บททั้งหมดของ It Kills Me: A Forbidden Dark Romance: บทที่ 241 - บทที่ 250

I wore a bulletproof vest underneath my long-sleeved shirt. The guys did too. The vest might be pointless because whenever you shot to kill, it was always to the face. If Bolton had the chance, he would aim right between my eyes.“Boss, you got company.” Octavio nodded behind me.I turned around and expected to see a distributor or client, but it was Axel.He acknowledged the guys with a nod as he came toward me. He already wore a vest under his shirt, the bulkiness beneath the fabric making it obvious. “Need a hand?”“No.” I was touched he was there, but I wouldn’t show it. “Axel, you shouldn’t be here.” We rarely interacted in public. We did our best to keep our relationship private, because if the wrong person knew just how close we were, it would act as the perfect leverage for coercion.“Scarlett told me what happened. I figured you’d be doing the hit tonight.” He looked at the guys in the room before he looked at me again.“As you can see, I’ve got plenty of guys.”“Doesn’t hurt

There was a commotion between the men as they worked to barricade the front door like Alexander the Great was on the other side about to claim Persia in the name of Macedonia. There was another loud bang, like Theo was trying to take down the door with explosives.Our front door was heavy and made out of iron, and now I understood why. It was the gates to the keep, the entryway to a king’s fortress, and it wasn’t coming down without an army to plow through it.Windows shattered, and I covered my head again, expecting shards to fall from the skies even though I was nowhere near the windows. Another loud bang sounded, and then there was fire from the explosion that took the door down.The smoke was immediate, filling the downstairs of the house and making the air hazy. It was chaos after that, and I couldn’t discern what was happening from behind the couch. There were gunshots and grunts, the same sounds of fighting that I’d heard outside my bedroom door when Bolton deployed those men i

I was given a spare bedroom down the hall from Theo. His butler gave me a supply of clothes and toiletries, so I would be able to shower and change my outfit. It was a nice room, with a large bed, a sitting room, and a big bathroom. It was much smaller than Theo’s, but still a dream.I sat on the couch and examined the room, the floral bedspread, the champagne-pink rug on the floor that matched the curtains that were drawn open over the windows. A pile of books was on the coffee table, along with a little vase of pink roses. It was clean, like his butler had it deep-cleaned, even though no one ever slept there. With coffered ceilings and wallpaper and artwork and sculptures, it was a bedroom from a magazine spread. Even though Bolton was wealthy, he never cared about the home aesthetic. He didn’t think an interior decorator was necessary. Didn’t trust anyone enough to have a butler or a chef. That meant all the household responsibilities had fallen to me.I’d showered and changed into

“He’s like a rock in the ocean tide. Give it enough time, and he’ll soften into sand.”Over a week had come and gone.Theo and I only spoke once. I spent the majority of my days in my bedroom, and I wasn’t sure where he was most of the time. There was no way for me to know whether he was home or not. The place was so big that I wouldn’t be able to hear his door open or close. He seemed to have an unpredictable schedule. Sometimes out all night and sometimes in bed right after dinner.I ventured into other parts of the house, having my meals in the dining room as I looked out the window, seeing the beautiful view of the Duomo a couple blocks away. The food was great, and the solitude was exactly what I needed to find a sense of calm. To begin to accept that the past was gone and out of reach. A whole life was before me, and I hoped that life included Theo.I sat at the dinner table and enjoyed my first course, a small salad with homemade champagne dressing, with wedges of grapefruit an

ASTRIDWhen I walked into his study, I found him sitting in his favorite armchair, a cigar in his mouth with a cloud above his head. His eyes were glued to the painting on the wall, the one that he’d connected with the moment he laid eyes on it. The stare lingered before it switched to me.Shirtless in his sweatpants, his beautiful skin covered in ink, his muscles bulging from his body, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a romance novel. With eyes that showed the gates to the underworld, he was dangerous…but not dangerous to me.He blinked then put his cigar out.I moved to the couch beside him and sat with a straight spine, my back not touching the cushions, my hands in my lap.He stared at the painting a moment longer before he looked at me.I met his stare, but I wanted to blink, wanted to flinch. His commanding presence was unnerving…but also comforting. Conversation wasn’t necessary to cushion the silence. Even the tensest moments with him were more comfortable than easy