Fucking hell. I’m going to drive myself crazy trying to read her thoughts, aren’t I? But I can’t help it. I’m a starving man, desperate for a drop of her affection.
We place our orders. As soon as the waiter leaves, Blake pins those mesmerizing blues on me. “I want to do this.”
Elation. Joy. Relief. The emotions rush through me, heady and intoxicating.
She wants to give our marriage a chance. A real chance.
A dazed smile spreads across my lips. “You do?”
“Yes. I want to help Gino Ferraro take down the pakhan.”
“You don’t know how happy that—”Hold up. My thoughts screech to a sharp halt.
I rewind her words.
The surge of disappointment that follows is profound. I’m a little kid again, opening my present at Christmas, and instead of the toy truck Dad promised he’d get me, it’s a fucking pair of socks.
It takes me a moment to collect myself, to find my voice again. “That’s not going to happen.”
“I met with Vita today.”
“You didwhat? How did you get in contact with her?”
She reaches inside her purse and takes out a cell phone. “She gave this to me last night.”
What. The. Fuck.
Before I can snatch it away, Blake’s already slipped it back into her purse. “As your wife, I should have a say in this decision, Nero. Do you think I like knowing the kind of work Alessio is having you do every day? Do you think I like worrying about what you’ll look like when you come home each night?”
I push down my anger at Vita for going behind my back—I’m going to have to talk to Gino about the move she pulled—and focus on what Blake is actually saying.
It sounds like she wants to do this for my sake.
“Be careful,” I say roughly. “I might start to think you still care about me.”
“I care enough to not want to see you hurt.”
That stupid hope flickers again. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
Her gaze falls to the candle in the middle of the table. “I don’t think I can ever completely forgive you. But I also don’t want to spend the rest of my life angry with you. What’s done is done, and we can’t go back in time and change it. I’m ready to move on.”
I swallow. “What does moving on mean?”
“I’d like for us to be friends.”
My surroundings dim. “Friends?”
“Just friends.”
It feels like there’s a noose tightening around my neck. “And what if I don’t want to be just friends?”
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t have a choice. The same way I didn’t have a choice when it came to marrying you.”
“You want to keep this as some sort of a fake marriage?”
“We started off fake dating. Don’t you think it fits?”
“No, it doesn’t,” I growl. “I made a vow to you, and I take my vows seriously. You are my wife, Blake.” My gaze falls to her ring.
