Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
His mouth stretches in a cold smile that hardens his gaze. “It still could be, come to think of it. Keep pushing me, and we’ll see how it goes.”
“All this because I’m asking for a little consideration and respect?”
He holds my gaze a beat longer before clicking his tongue, his head shaking slightly before he turns away. “Respect is earned,” he reminds me, walking down the hall. Now I’m glad he’s leaving me alone since that damn perfume clings to his suit and reminds me of why this was never going to work. This is his game, his rules, and he can change the rules whenever he wants.
He’s not the only one with cards up his sleeve, though. Whether he likes it or not, he’s just as capable of jealousy as I am, and he can’t hide it.
I wish that didn’t give me so much hope that he might still want me.
12
ENZO
I now know what it feels like to eat a meal in an ice box because that’s the approximate temperature in the kitchen as Alicia and I eat a rather silent, distant dinner. And here I was, hoping to enjoy the meal and the night. I managed to broker a tentative deal with the Martinez cartel, for fuck’s sake.
“How is your mahi?” I venture.
“Fine.” She takes a forkful as if to prove this, inserting it into her mouth and chewing, looking down at her plate all the while.
“I didn’t see the point of hiring a cook when we won’t be here permanently, and it seems like delivery is working out just fine.”
“Yeah. It is.”
This is more than simple discomfort or awkwardness. This is deliberate. She’s freezing me out after our argument earlier. I don’t know why I care—the meal would go much more smoothly if I could simply ignore her attitude, but that’s the problem with her in a nutshell. I can’t ignore her. I need to know. Perhaps there’s something perverse in me that won’t allow me to let it go.
“So how was your day? We didn’t get much of a chance to speak when you first got home.”
Alicia snorts while reaching for the breadbasket. “I thought we already went over that. I was a good girl and didn’t do anything against the rules. What else is there to know?”
“I’m sorry, I thought I would at least be civil toward my wife. If you’d rather I wasn’t, that’s fine. Less of an effort for me.”
“No, you wouldn’t want to make an effort over little old me, would you?” she sneers, sliding an accusatory look my way. “You pay people to do that for you.”
“Is this about Paolo? Because I am not about to entertain your irritation every single day, so we might as well have it out now. You want to go to school; there are rules you must abide by.”
“It has nothing to do with Paolo, though now that you mention it…” She’s scowling when she raises her head. “You realize I stick out like a sore thumb at school, right? I’m supposed to be blending in, acting normally.”
“Do you honestly think anyone gives a shit that you have a bodyguard?”
“Do you honestly hear yourself? Yes, it looks a little funny for a man dressed in all black to be following me around from place to place and standing at the back of the room when I’m in a lecture.”
“Would you rather he wear a clown costume?”
She rolls her eyes. “Forget it. I should know better than to try to reason with you.”
“I don’t much appreciate your attitude this evening. Here I am, thinking we can have at least a pleasant dinner together, and you come at me with all this nastiness.”
She touches a hand to her chest, her mouth falling open in mock dismay. “Excuse me. I forgot I’m not supposed to have any thoughts or feelings about anything. I’m just a woman. I’m just supposed to sit here and be quiet and meek. And available,” she adds, and bitterness drips from the words.
I shouldn’t rise to the bait, but dammit, I can’t let her get away with this. “Now that you mention it, yes. That is exactly how you are supposed to be.”
“Of course. Anything to make your life easier.”
“Considering how complicated you’ve made my life, I would think you’d want to make it a little easier.” And now I can’t pretend to enjoy my mahi. Not when she insists on being perverse and stirring me to anger. “You were the one who wanted to come back to Miami. We didn’t have to leave Italy.”
“No kidding.”
“So don’t act like I dragged you here kicking and screaming, and you’re unhappy about it.”
“Who said I was unhappy about coming to Miami? This was my home.” Maybe she doesn’t notice her choice of words, but I do. She’s already thinking about her former life as just that. I’m glad because that bodes well for me. The last thing I need is a wife who won’t stop crying about a life she’ll never return to.