Page 122 of Mafia Obsession

Chapter 48

Ares

The stretch between Christmas and New Year’s is usually a quiet time. Not this year.

While I was waiting to see if David Sinclair’s death would trigger a response from his ringleader boss Elias Black, it turned out Rhys Quinlan was dating Black’s daughter, and he didn’t even know it. Black might have handled dozens of contract killers with an iron fist, but pissing off one Irish assassin by imprisoning and drugging his daughter got Black killed.

In the wake of that catastrophe, David’s mysterious death meant nothing. No one from the Black Group cared about David Sinclair. He’s been officially declared dead. No investigation. The man had nothing.

Except Lourdes.

Now she’s mine.

Only she’s barely speaking to me.

We drive together to Wall Street every day. She goes to her office and closes the door. Daria says she’s performing her new duties very well. She’s a natural.

On the drive home, I ask her about her day, and she knows better than to completely ignore me. But she answers me like I’m a nosy roommate.

At night, she gets into our bed, turns her back, and goes to sleep. She hasn’t kissed me in seven days, and I’m losing my mind.

I had to hide the hurt when she slipped out early on Christmas morning to be with her sister. I’d planned to go with her, but her leaving without me told me she didn’t want me there.

I stared at the wrapped boxes I had in my closet. Gifts I bought for her myself that she couldn’t care less about. I felt oddly bristled that there were no gifts left for me. Having to attend Christmas evening invitations to strategic business allies alone cut deep, and I nearly took off Atlas’s head from his shoulders a few times with his irritating questions.

The opening night for the Aurelian can’t get here fast enough.

On New Year’s Eve, Lourdes emerges from our bedroom in a dress that takes my breath away. It’s maroon silk that makes her pale skin look luminous. It shows off enough cleavage to make men jealous but not enough for me to gouge out anyone’s eyes. Her blonde hair is styled in waves, with one side pinned up with that old butterfly clip.

I used one of the spare bedrooms to get dressed. When she sees me in my tux, she stops, and her jaw drops a little. I’m relieved she at least still finds me attractive. Somewhere, I miscalculated everything about this woman. I want this night to end and the new year to begin with us starting over somehow.

When she’s close, I bend to kiss her cheek. Relieved she lets me, I rasp, “You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she says, blushing. “You, too.”

“I need you to wear this.” I hold out the twelve-carat diamond ring I bought her weeks ago.

A ring she’s never worn.

She just blinks down at it and then looks up at me. “Is that all you have to say about the ring? Ineedto wear it?”

“Yes. We’re getting married. You agreed.”

She never signed my marriage contract, but that got lost in the events of her leaving me shortly after. With her willing return, I hadn’t felt the need to rush the formalities.

I see her jaw tightening, though. Her throat working like she’s ready to scream at me for something, and I have no idea what I keep doing wrong.

Shaking her head, she grabs the ring without even admiring it and jams it on her finger.

“I’m ready,” she says, slipping a sparkly evening bag under her arm.

Watching her walk toward the penthouse’s front door, I break. “What will it take, Lourdes?”

She stops, her shoulders up around her ears. “Take for what?”

“Turn around.”

She does, and she looks as lost as I feel.