Chapter 3 The Mafia Queen

I didn't sleep at all that night.

I sat on the edge of our bed-the bed I had shared with Julian for a year-and stared at the wall. Julian didn't come to bed. He stayed in my father's study, making phone calls in a low, cold voice that I barely recognized.

By the time the sun came up, the mansion was spotless. The shattered glass was gone, the bullet holes were patched, and the blood was cleaned. It was as if the Blackwood Syndicate had never been there.

I walked downstairs to find Julian in the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of black coffee, wearing a crisp, tailored black suit. He looked like a stranger. A dangerously handsome stranger.

"Good morning," he said quietly, his eyes scanning my face. "Did you sleep?"

"Not really," I admitted, sitting at the kitchen island. "Are you going to tell me the truth now? All of it?"

Julian set his coffee down. "My real name is Julian Blackwood. I took over the Syndicate when I was twenty-one after my father was murdered. For five years, I've been running the most powerful criminal network in the country. But I was tired of the blood, Chloe. I wanted a normal life. So, I stepped back. I let Marcus handle the day-to-day. I became a mechanic to hide in plain sight."

"Why me?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

Julian walked around the counter and stood in front of me. He reached out and gently tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His touch sent a shiver down my spine.

"Because the day I met you, you fixed a flat tire for an old woman in the rain and refused to take her money," he said softly. "You were kind. You were real. I wanted to protect that."

Before I could respond, the front door of the mansion swung open.

Marcus walked in, followed by two men in black suits. His face was bruised, and he looked exhausted, but he stood tall when he saw Julian.

"Boss," Marcus said, bowing his head slightly. "We have a problem."

Julian's demeanor changed instantly. The softness vanished, replaced by that cold, ruthless mask. "Speak."

"The Russian faction is making moves," Marcus said, handing Julian a tablet. "They heard about what happened last night at the Sterling house. They think you've gone soft. They think hiding as a mechanic made you weak."

Julian looked at the screen. His jaw tightened. "Who is leading them?"

"Dimitri Volkov," Marcus said. "He's put a bounty on your head. And on the head of your wife."

My blood ran cold. "A bounty?" I whispered.

Julian handed the tablet back to Marcus. He didn't look scared. He looked furious. "Where is Dimitri right now?"

"He's at the Diamond Club downtown," Marcus said. "He's having a party. He thinks he's untouchable."

Julian smiled. It was a terrifying smile. "Then we are going to crash his party."

He turned to me. "Chloe, go upstairs and change. Wear the black dress in the back of your closet. The one you wore to the charity gala last year."

I blinked. "I-I'm coming with you?"

"You are my wife," Julian said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If Dimitri wants to threaten the Blackwood Queen, he needs to see exactly who he's dealing with. You are not a target, Chloe. You are a weapon."

Two hours later, I was sitting in the back of a sleek, bulletproof black SUV. I was wearing the tight black dress and diamond earrings. Julian sat next to me, his hand resting lightly on my thigh.

We pulled up to the Diamond Club. It was the most exclusive club in the city. A line of people stretched around the block, but our car drove straight to the front.

Marcus opened the door. Julian stepped out first, offering me his hand. I took it, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Stay close to me," Julian murmured against my ear. "No matter what happens, don't let go of my hand."

We walked inside. The music was deafening, the lights pulsing. But as soon as Julian stepped into the main room, the music stopped. The DJ cut the track. Everyone turned to look at us.

At the center of the room, surrounded by beautiful women and armed guards, sat a massive, bald man with a thick Russian accent. Dimitri Volkov.

Dimitri stood up, a glass of vodka in his hand. He smiled, but his eyes were dark and calculating.

"Julian Blackwood!" Dimitri boomed, spreading his arms wide. "The legend returns! I heard you got married and became a mechanic. I thought you retired, old friend."

"Hello, Dimitri," Julian said calmly. "I heard you put a price on my wife's head."

Dimitri's eyes flicked to me. He looked me up and down, a slow, disgusting smirk spreading across his face. "Ah. The Queen. She's even more beautiful than the rumors say." He looked back at Julian. "You brought her to my club. Are you showing her off, or are you offering her as a peace treaty?"

Before Julian could answer, Dimitri snapped his fingers. Four huge guards stepped forward, surrounding us.

Dimitri took a step closer, looking at me. "I will make you a deal, Blackwood. Let me have your wife for the night. A peace offering. In exchange, I won't kill you both right now."

I felt my hands start to tremble. But Julian just laughed.

"No," Julian said simply.

Dimitri's face twisted in anger. "No? You think you have a choice?" He reached out to grab my arm.

But Julian moved faster.

Julian grabbed Dimitri's hand, twisted it violently, and slammed him face-first into the glass table behind him. The table shattered, glass flying everywhere. The guards raised their guns, but before they could even aim, Julian had a knife pressed to Dimitri's throat.

The whole room gasped.

"Let me be clear," Julian said, his voice echoing in the silent club. "You can put a bounty on my head. You can try to kill me in my sleep. But if you ever look at my wife again, I will carve out your eyes and feed them to your guards. Do we have an understanding?"

Dimitri was bleeding from his forehead, his eyes wide with pure terror. "Yes! Yes, Blackwood! I understand!"

Julian released him, stepping back and smoothing down his suit. He looked at the shocked crowd, then turned to me. He held out his hand, a dark, possessive look in his eyes.

"Come, my Queen," he said. "We're leaving."

I looked at the crowd, at the terrified Russian mobsters, and at the shattered glass on the floor. Then I looked at my husband.

I took his hand.

As we walked out of the club, I realized something. My family thought Julian was a nobody. But looking at the blood on his knuckles and the fear in the eyes of every man in that room, I knew the truth.

I wasn't married to a mechanic. I was married to a monster. And I was starting to think I liked it.