Kiss from a Gunpoint Rose

1.

The day I lost our baby in a car wreck, Vincent Costello was driving by in his bulletproof Cadillac with his new assistant.

He saw the blood spreading across my white dress.

He covered the girl’s curious eyes with his hand.

“Just some trash on the side of the road,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “Don’t look.”

Then he hit the gas and left me in his dust.

That night, in the corner of the walk-in closet in our penthouse, I found a piece of lace lingerie that wasn’t mine.

I closed the do