“This is my place.”  Deklan passes by me and walks over to the kitchen where he grabs a coffee cup from the sink.  He tilts his head to one side.  “Our place, I guess I should say.”

The apartment is only a few minutes from the Foley estate.  Before leaving, my mother had grasped my hands without looking into my eyes and then started crying as Dad hauled her off, and I got into Deklan’s car, scooping the train of my dress up and piling it on my lap as I sat in the low seat of the car.

It’s a flashy sports car, but I don’t know what kind.

There was silence the whole drive over here.  Deklan didn’t even turn on the radio, and I opted to stare out the window instead of watching him shift gears with his huge hands.

I swallow hard and look around the sparse apartment, clutching the little bag my mother had packed for me.

If those home and garden magazines had a special edition for “typical bachelor pad,” this place would fit nicely on the cover.  The television is huge.  Underneath it is a Blu-ray player and some kind of gaming console.  There’s a couch, a recliner, and a coffee table, but that’s it for furniture.  The walls are bare.  There’s a short hallway that I assume leads to the bathroom and bedroom.

Bedroom.

I swallow again.

The kitchen is big enough to be the eat-in sort, but there is no kitchen table.  I watch as Deklan washes out the coffee cup and places it on the top shelf in the cabinet.  His shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep breath before turning around.

“Do you want anything?” he asks.

Yes.  I want to go home.

I shake my head slowly.

“You sure?  I’ve got bottled water in the fridge.”

“I’m sure.”  My voice sounds small and meek.  I feel small just being in this man’s presence.  I tense my fingers around the handle of the overnight bag.  My palms are sweating, and my grip keeps faltering.

Deklan lets out a breath and mumbles something I can’t understand.  He looks nervous as he runs his hand through his short, dark hair and glances at me.

“I wasn’t expecting this either,” he says.

“I know.”

“I’ve never even had a woman in here before.”

“You a virgin, too?”  The words pop out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop them, and I feel my ears go red.

“No.”  He offers me a wry smile, but his pale eyes remain cold.  “I just don’t bring anyone here.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want people knowing where I live.”

“Why?”

“Because someone would try to come here and kill me.”

“Oh.”  I don’t know how else to respond to a statement like that.  His answer makes sense, but this isn’t something I’m used to.  Talk of illegal activities, shoving piles of money into safety deposit boxes, and the occasional, loose threat, yes, but not murder.

Of course, when you’re married to a killer—a mafia-backed hitman—there are going to be people out there who want your husband dead.  You should have thought about that before you said those two magic words that tied yourself to him.

I’m married to a murderer.

I force the thought from my head.  I can’t think about such things.  There are more pressing matters on the near horizon.

I’m married, and my non-virginal husband is going to want to make me his non-virginal wife.  Sean’s words echo in my head.

You’re going to get ripped open tonight.

I close my eyes for a moment and then pretend to look around the room some more.

“Are you hungry?” Deklan asks.

“No.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him run his hand over his head again.  He’s nervous, and it’s making me even more nervous.

When presented with an unpleasant task that you have to accomplish, it’s best for you to just get it over with.

“Can I use the bathroom?”

“Yeah,” he says as he points down the hall, “it’s on the left.”

I grip the handle of the bag again and head down the hall.  The bathroom is pretty big.  There’s a huge walk-in shower and a large cabinet under the sink.  I lock the door behind me and then lean against it, finally letting the tears flow.  I let myself cry for a few minutes, trying to keep from sobbing out loud.

Get a grip.

I clench and unclench my hands a couple of times to center myself.  I can’t just stay in here forever—Deklan will come looking for me.  If Mom ever kept Dad waiting, and she didn’t often, there was always hell to pay.  My father isn’t a huge man like Deklan is, but his temper is big.  I don’t want to find out what Deklan’s anger is like on my wedding night.  With a handful of toilet paper, I wipe my nose and eyes.  I really want to wash my face and brush my teeth, so I open the bag to look for some toiletries.

Mom didn’t pack much.

In fact, she packed almost nothing.  The bag contains only the box for my wedding jewelry and one other item.  At the bottom of the bag is a flat pink box.  I pull it out and open it, wondering why she would put toiletries in a pink box.

It’s not toiletries.  It’s white lingerie.

It’s sheer silk and feels soft on my fingers.  Mom must have purchased it when she still thought I was marrying Sean.  It’s my wedding night attire, and Deklan is probably out there, waiting for me to emerge in such an outfit, and I don’t even have any way of cleaning my teeth.

Maybe Deklan has an extra toothbrush somewhere.

Glancing back at the locked door, I start opening drawers in cabinets.  I find the toothpaste but no extra brush.  No hairbrushes either, just a comb.  Under the sink, there are boxes of gauze, first-aid tape, and three bottles of rubbing alcohol.

I take a deep breath and wash my face with the liquid hand soap.  At least my cheeks aren’t all red and blotchy now.  I toy with the idea of using Deklan’s toothbrush, but considering we had only kissed once, the act seems a little too intimate and a little bit gross.

I settle for rubbing my teeth with a washcloth and borrowing a bit of mouthwash.

Looking back at the pink box, I wonder if I should just put it on.  The wedding dress is cumbersome, and I certainly can’t wear it to bed.  There isn’t a change of clothes in the bag, either.

Why the hell did she even bother packing me anything?

I stare at myself in the small mirror that doubles as a medicine cabinet and think about the man in the other room.  He said he was going to take care of me.  Maybe that means just what I feared.

It explains Mom’s excessive crying.  It also explains why she didn’t pack anything for tomorrow.  Maybe she knew I wouldn’t need it.

But she did pack the sexy nightie.

This must be the plan then.  He’s going to fuck me and then kill me.  He’s going to rip me open, and then I’m going to die in his bed.

The violent thought has a strange, calming effect on me.  At least it will be over soon.  It’s already very late, well past midnight, and I don’t have to worry about what I’m going to wear in the morning.  If I can manage to make Deklan happy, maybe he will at least kill me quickly.

I clear my mind as I reach down and remove my shoes.   I pull the garter along with the sheer pantyhose from my thigh and shove all of it in the bag.  I stand up and reach behind my neck to loosen the dress.  The first couple of hooks release easily, but I have to contort myself to get to the next one.  I can’t reach the one below it at all.

“Dammit.” I mutter as I twist around, trying to get the hook with my other hand.  It doesn’t work, so I attempt to pull the tight dress up from the waist, but it won’t move.

Maybe if I get some of the lower hooks first.

The lower hooks are covered with a long satin ribbon, which laces all the way back to the top.  I can’t reach the ties or get to the hooks underneath them.  In the mirror, I can see where I need to be, but I can’t reach the right spot.

My eyes burn as I stare at the little pink box and the contents within.  How am I supposed to put that on when I can’t get out of what I’m wearing?  I want to scream, but I cover my mouth with my hand and clench my teeth.  I reach behind myself to try again, but now my hand is shaking, and I can’t grip the hooks at all.

The knock at the door startles me enough that I should have popped right out of the dress, but that doesn’t happen.

“You okay?”  Deklan’s voice is muffled through the door.

“Um…yes?”  I immediately turn the water on at the sink to muffle any sounds I might make.  “I’m fine.”

Apparently, the water isn’t enough to hide my panic.

“Convincing.”  His sarcastic tone isn’t lost on me.

“I just need a minute.”

“You’ve been in there almost an hour.”

I have?

With no other option, I admit my problem.

“I can’t get my dress off.”  I hear the doorknob rattle.

“Open the door.”

I look in the mirror again.  The blotches on my cheeks have returned.  I close my eyes, grip the sink, and take one long breath.

“Open the fucking door, Kera.”  His voice isn’t raised, but his words are harsh enough that I jump to his command and unlock the door.

He stands in the doorway for a moment.  He looks angry, and I brace myself for whatever that might mean.

“Do you want help,” he asks, “or do you prefer to keep struggling with it?”

“Help,” I say quietly.  I close my eyes as I turn away so he can reach my back, wondering if he can hear my heart pounding.

I feel his hands at the hooks between my shoulder blades, and I wonder if he can even release the tiny clasps with his big fingers.  I glance sideways at the mirror, but it’s small, and the angle is wrong.  I can’t see what he’s doing.

I close my eyes again and try to feel what he’s doing instead.  There’s a slight tug as the satin ribbon is untied, and then the dress begins to loosen from top to bottom as he works each hook in turn.  The shoulders of the dress sag down my arms a bit, and Deklan places his hand at the back of my neck.

I don’t move.  I don’t even breathe.  Maybe I was wrong, and he’s not going to fuck me first.  Maybe he doesn’t like me, and he’s just going to snap my neck right now.

He rubs the back of my neck for a moment, and then I feel him trail his finger down my bare back, stopping at my waist, just above the curve of my ass.  I think his finger is right at the edge of my lacy, white panties, and I can hear his breath becoming heavier.

“Is that better?” he asks.  His voice is soft and gruff.

“Yes.”  I can feel the heat from his body at my bare back, but he’s still only touching me with his finger.

“Do you want more help?”

“I think I can manage.”

“I’ll be close by if you need anything else.”

“Okay.”

He walks out, closing the door behind him while I wonder why I didn’t ask him for a toothbrush.  I rummage through the bag again, but there isn’t a little zippered pocket or anything like that inside of it, and my dress is trying to fall right off of me as I move.

With a deep breath, I stand and slip the dress from my body.  Behind the bathroom door is a hook, and I hang the dress there, smoothing it slightly before stepping away and grabbing the lingerie from its box.

Ditching my bra and panties, I replace them with the white silk.  Though it covers me from the top of my breasts to the top of my thighs, it’s practically see-though.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but when I open them, I’m staring into the mirror again.  My dark hair is piled on top of my head with a ton of pins and another ribbon.  Should I take them all out?

If I do, my hair will be a disaster, and I have no hairbrush.  There’s no way Deklan’s simple comb will leave me with anything other than frizz, so I decide to just leave it as it is.

With a final, deep breath, I open the bathroom door.  Deklan isn’t in the hallway, but I hear him in the next room.  The door is open, so I walk in.

Much like the rest of the apartment, Deklan’s bedroom is plain and undecorated.  The only thing of note—and it’s a big note—is the bed.  It’s huge.  It’s bigger than any king-size bed I have ever seen.  It’s covered with a duvet, and there are six pillows on it.  It looks like he just went into a nice department store and bought the display.

Maybe he did.

Deklan is standing by the dresser, depositing his watch and wallet onto a small tray.  His gun is in its holster sitting next to the tray.  He’s ditched his bowtie and cummerbund, and his shirt is untucked.  Deklan has his back to me, and I watch him for a moment as he stares at his left hand, silently rotating the platinum band around his finger.

I take another step into the room, and he turns.

“Sweet Jesus.”  Deklan’s eyes go wide as he gawks, and I feel my face go red.  His gaze travels from my face to my bare feet and then back again.  Deklan licks his lips as he takes a predatory step toward me.

I stiffen and keep my eyes focused on the floor in front of me.

He looks like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.  Instead, he leans down and presses his lips against mine.  I close my eyes and tilt my head up as I feel his hand move around the back of my neck.  He puts more pressure against my lips as I place my hands tentatively on his waist.

I open my mouth, allowing his tongue access to mine.  His hand grips my head and neck as he deepens the kiss.  I stay still, not returning the kiss.  I can’t move.  All I can think about is the lack of a toothbrush.

Deklan pulls back, and I open my eyes.  His eyes are narrowed as he looks me over and sighs again.

“Kera, we don’t have to do this tonight.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Why?”

“Because Sean wants it.”

“He isn’t here,” Deklan says, “and I’ve got the weekend off.  He isn’t expecting to see me until Monday.  There is plenty of time.”

How long will it take for you to dispose of my body?

Will my body ever be found?  Do my parents already know, or will they look for me?  Will the police get involved or look the other way like they usually do when it comes to the Foley’s activities?  Will some hiker come by my remains accidentally?  What will I look like?

I don’t have any clothes to wear tomorrow.  I don’t even have a hairbrush here.

Without warning, I burst into tears.  I’m not crying over my impending wedding night and subsequent death.  I’m crying because I’m going to be buried in a shallow grave with unbrushed teeth.

“Kera?  What’s wrong?”  Deklan grips my upper arms and tilts his head to look me in the eye.

“Nothing.”  I sob as I turn away from him.

“Would you stop that?”  Deklan lets out a long sigh.  “Just tell me, all right?”

He’s staring at my face, his expression intense—worried.  Why would he be worried?  Didn’t he expect me to cry when he held a gun to my head—or would a gunshot be too loud, and he plans to use a knife?  Maybe he’ll smother me with a pillow.

“What are you thinking?” he asks quietly.  “Please, Kera, tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s just…just…I don’t have anything to wear tomorrow.  My mom didn’t pack me a toothbrush or a change of clothes.  I don’t have any deodorant or socks or anything, and I know why!”

I put my hands over my face.  I sound ridiculous, and he’s going to think I’m a whiny child.  I brace myself, waiting for him to smack me for being so obnoxious and needy.  When Mom whines about not having what she wants, dad always backhands her to shut her up.

“What do you mean, you ‘know why’?”  Deklan takes my wrists and pulls them from my face.

“Never mind,” I whisper as I turn my head so I don’t have to look at him.  “It’s nothing.  Mom’s just…forgetful.  Dad’s always saying that.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.  You look…terrified.”

He takes my chin in his hand and won’t let me look away, keeping his grip firm as he stares at me.  There’s no avoiding this.  There is no point in prolonging the inevitable.  It’s best to just let it all out now.  I take a deep breath.

“I know what you meant when you said you were going to take care of me,” I say.

Deklan frowns and looks confused.

“I can take it,” I say softly.  “If you’re going to kill me, can we just get it over with?”

“Kill you?”

I let out a long breath.  I’m officially tired of the charade.

“I know that’s what you’re going to do,” I tell him.  “You don’t have to pretend anymore.  It’s not like I’m going to fight you or anything.”

“Why do you think I’m going to kill you?”

I stare at him as I try to figure out his tone.  He’s not asking out of curiosity, as if to ask “How did you figure out the plan?”  He’s not acting surprised that I know what he’s going to do.  He seems more…horrified.

“You…you said…”  I pull back from him, confused.

“What did I say?”

“You said you were going to ‘take care of me,’” I whisper.

“What?”

“At the end of the ceremony,” I say, reminding him.  “After you kissed me, you said that.”

His eyes go wide for a moment.

“No…I-I…”  Deklan shakes his head sharply.  “I didn’t mean it like that.  I mean, I’m really going to take care of you.  I was…I was trying to reassure you.”

He lets go of me for a moment and takes a step away from me.  He looks at me with a furrowed brow for a long moment before he reaches over and takes one of my hands in his.  He pulls me to the edge of the bed and sits me down beside him.  He leans slightly, putting our heads closer to the same level.

“I wasn’t expecting this to happen.  Sean didn’t give me any kind of heads up, and I’m not any more prepared for this than you are.  You might actually have the advantage—at least you knew you were going to get married.  I didn’t expect this, but I’m going to do right by you.”

I’m skeptical, to say the least.  I stare into his eyes, trying to figure out if he’s telling me the truth.  I have no idea.  I’m not a great judge of character, and I don’t know his expressions well enough to determine if he’s lying or not.

“I work a lot,” he says as he strokes the side of my hand with his thumb, “but I’ll be here with you whenever I can.  I’ll always protect you.  I’ll never fuck around on you.”

Deklan pauses, and I realize he’s giving me his own version of marital vows.  I feel my heart beating in my chest even faster as he wraps his hand around my left wrist, rubbing my skin with his thumb.  My brain flickers with brief, uncertain memory.  The touch feels familiar, and I realize he’s rubbing my wrist again—the same way he did before he put the ring on my finger and the same way I do when I’m anxious.  I stare at his hand and feel myself relax slightly.

“I’ve got a temper,” Deklan says.  He presses his lips together for a moment before he continues.  “You’re bound to see that at some point, but I’ll never lay a hand on you in anger.  If you want anything—anything at all—I’ll get it for you if I can.”

I stare at him, open-mouthed and in complete shock.  He seems completely serious.  There’s no reason for him to tell me any of this, not if he’s planning to kill me.

“I’m from a traditional Catholic family,” Deklan says.  “We take marriage pretty seriously.  This isn’t about the piece of paper we signed—not to me.  I’m serious about this, Kera.”

“Sean didn’t tell you to kill me?”  I can barely hear my own voice.

“Jesus, no!”  Deklan shakes his head rapidly.  “He told me to be your husband, and that’s what I intend to be.  I’d never hurt you.”

I stare at his face, trying to find some lie in his eyes, except there’s nothing but sincerity.  We are here alone. I can think of no reason to lie about killing me now.  In fact, he is completely serious about being a husband to me.

A real husband.

What does that even mean?