Court of Flowers (Sutherland Book 1)

XXXVIII | Blood in the Villa

Sasha went back to her villa for a day to inform Iyana and Briana that should they have any concerns, they can send a note to West's villa where she intended to stay for a week.

Iyana was pleased that she was nearer but was still equally concerned.

West, on the other hand, was restless.

"Perhaps we can do this without—"

"You need to leave, West," she told him, walking over to stare out the window. "I shall be fine."

When she did not hear anything, she turned and sighed. He stood unmoving in the middle of their bedchamber, face grim. She chuckled.

"I will be fine." She walked over to him and cupped his face. "You will be there to save me." She planted a light kiss on his lips and pushed him to the door. "Go."

West stiffly opened the door.

"West," she called. He paused and looked at her. "Do not be late."

His gaze surveyed her entire form, head to foot, his eyes determined before he nodded. "I will be there."

*****

For days, she had been alone with only Darren and Seven as company. West, Darren told her, was making appearances in parliament sessions, but was always ready whenever she needed him.

On her first day, she had sewn two more dresses that Seven had destroyed. By the second day, the curtains had been replaced in a different color. On her third, she started to arrange the library books alphabetically with Darren.

Every morning, she walked around the garden, tending to the plants as they bloomed in spring.

On her fourth night alone, she cried. She should be used to being alone as she did in the Court of Libraries. But it was different here. Everything she touched was a reminder of West and a home.

He had told her he would marry her.

What a fool, she thought. What a beautiful, sweet fool. She would love to hate him for it because by telling her he would marry her, he gave her a glimpse of a different life. One that was uncertain, unknown, but exciting. One that would be unexpected, for sure, but one she would be looking forward to.

If she agreed.

And that may not happen.

She never believed that love could conquer all. Her father's, if he ever had love for his wife, would have not done what he did. If he ever loved Sasha, he would have not succumbed to the urgings of his mind.

Yet his thoughts were stronger. They gave him the strength to pull the trigger twice.

Sasha willed herself to not think of what would happen after all was over. More important things should be addressed at the moment.

On her fifth night, Sasha slipped into bed and waited. Feeling the dagger under the pillow, she closed her eyes and hoped for danger to come.

And it did come.

It came just like the last one.

But this time, Sasha was not dreaming and she knew the moment it happened that she had to fight.

His hand was around her neck, stealing her of her breath.

Sasha opened her eyes and found him hovered above her. He loosened his grip and Sasha gasped for air. Then he tightened his hold once more. "I am sorry to be late, darling," he said, enjoying the look of horror in her eyes. "I had to make certain there will be no one to save you this time."