Goodnight, I sign back, stunned.
He leaves, and he takes all the heat with him. I sink back into bed as cold seeps into my body. There's only so much shock a body can take in a day.
I thought he said he wanted me. Doesn’t he anymore? Has he suddenly changed his mind? Maybe he regrets this already. Maybe he's blaming himself for making this catastrophic mistake.
I hate that I feel disappointed. I hate the sadness curling in my chest, squeezing my lungs.
I wasn’t hungry before, but if I'd been, my appetite is well and truly ruined, thanks to my husband.
I sigh as I bury my face in the pillow. This is going to be one hell of a marriage.
Maria hovers like a nervous bird while I pull the dress over my shoulders. She’d wanted to help me dress, fuss over my hair and face, but I told her no. I can do it myself. It’s not unkindness. I’m not used to people fussing over me. Besides, I simply need to feel like I have a little control over something.
Last night, I slept peacefully for the first time in what feels like years. No footsteps outside my door. No shouts. No phantom fears dragging me from sleep. Just me, in a bed that smells distinctly like Giovanni.
I woke this morning disoriented, not knowing where I was. But then my gaze found the soft curtains, the lavender on the windowsill, the gentle swirl of a new life settling around me.
I woke up as Liliana Renzetti.
Maria had come earlier, signing carefully, that Giovanni expected me for breakfast. His mother is around. That makes my stomach knot. Maybe because I imagined her as cold and hard,disapproving. Maybe because I wish Giovanni had come to tell me himself. Or because a part of me is still curled up inside over the way he’d kissed my forehead and walked away like it cost him nothing. I try not to let it fester.
I slip into the dress that Maria left for me. It’s soft cream with delicate lace at the sleeves, modest and elegant, cinched just enough at the waist to flatter. It’s the kind of dress a woman wears when she wants to look effortless but composed. Giovanni’s choice, apparently. My hair is loose around my shoulders, framing my face. The fabric catches the morning light pouring through the window, and for a moment, I almost don’t recognize the woman in the mirror.
I never thought I was much to look at. But something has shifted. There’s something softer in my eyes, a lightness in my features. I look... luminous. As if I’ve somehow bloomed overnight, but that can't be possible. Maybe it’s the peace. Or the freedom. Or him.
Maria catches my eye in the mirror. She signs, You’re beautiful.
My throat tightens. I sign back, Thank you.
I finish dressing and open the door to step into the hallway. I stop in my tracks. Giovanni is already there, waiting.
He's dressed in a black shirt that hugs his shoulders, the first two buttons left undone. Slate-grey slacks. No tie. So simple, yet so refined. His hair is slicked back.
My breath stumbles as I take him in. The clean, shaved line of his jaw. The dark shine of his hair. The quiet heat in his eyes when he sees me.
“Good morning,” he says, close to my ear. Then he leans in and brushes a feather-light kiss against my cheek.
My heart stutters.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, eyes lingering.
Heat creeps up my neck. I look down, then up again through my lashes. He’s still watching me, and it makes me feel like the air between us is a living, breathing thing.
He offers me his arm, and I take it.
As we walk through the estate, we pass a corridor lined with portraits. Old men with eyes like hawks and mouths like swords. Renzetti bloodlines. Their gazes follow me. I shiver.
“They look like they’d eat me alive,” I sign, trying to make light.
Giovanni chuckles under his breath. “They probably would’ve tried. But not while I’m here.”
He pauses. “My mother arrived this morning. I meant to tell you last night. I’m sorry.”
It’s small, that apology. But it feels like something big. I nod to show it’s okay. He squeezes my hand gently.
“Don’t be nervous,” he adds.
Too late.
