Page 113 of Roman

I had gone online with the new laptop he had gifted me and looked at the account, staring at the screen and the fifty-thousand-dollar balance. I was sure that was more money than I could spend in a year. The day we went shopping, I used the debit card and bought a few little things I needed. My only big expense was a tie I thought he would like. He was fascinated with my eye color, and I saw a beautiful violet-blue tie with a black pattern woven into it and bought it for him.

He loved it.

What he did with it still made me blush.

As much as I loved it here, my husband was an enigma to me. Roman insisted he was incapable of romantic love, yet he displayed every trait of falling for me. Flowers and gifts showed up all the time. He texted and called. Teased me. Kissed and touched me every chance he got. Brought me to the casino some evenings, simply to see me. Made love to me. But when I tried to discuss feelings with him, he shut down. I decided to leave it. He reminded me of a stray dog we’d found once in the backyard. Terrified and skinny, he wouldn’t come close, but he didn’t leave either. It took us weeks of patience to get him to trust us. More for him to be comfortable with being close. Marianne had written him off, furious he didn’t instantly love her. I sat on the grass day after day, offering him scraps, until one day he came to me. He was my companion until he died, and he never liked Marianne, choosing to ignore her. She, in turn, hated him. He was the only thing I ever had I didn’t have to share.

I had to wait for Roman to come to me. Nagging him would do no good except to push him away. I had to be patient. I was certain I would be well rewarded when he was ready.

I sighed as I lifted the lid to the first box. I was still conflicted over Marianne’s death. Glad to know she could no longer hurt me or steal what I worked so hard to have, yet sad to think she had died violently, never really knowing happiness. She was always too busy vying to be the center of attention instead of enjoying the fact that she usually was. She always hated it if she thought someone paid more notice to me or even our mom than to her. I never understood it.

The bottom line was that Roman was right. He had said she was jealous of me and would never love me the way I wanted her to.

I stifled the voice that told me neither would he.

Because I already knew I was in love with him. It was complicated and messy. I knew he would never return my love, but I had his affection. His ring. His vow. His eternal protection.

I would be satisfied with that.

I had no choice. For now.

The box was filled with books, and I fitted the lid back, carrying it down the hall to the room Roman told me to make over as mine. I planned on some shelves for all my books. When I could afford it, I went to book shows, met my favorite authors, and had my books signed. Often, I had to pick them up at used bookstores, but with the added signature, it made them so special to me. This box contained Stephanie Rose and Carrie Elks books—two of my favorite authors.

I opened another box, pleased to discover my sweater. I gasped in delight at seeing my old cell phone and charger they had tossed into the box. Roman had given me a brand-new fancy one, but this one had some pictures and phone numbers I could transfer over. I plugged it into an outlet and went back to unpacking a few more boxes.

I paused after a while, surprised to see I had been at it a couple of hours. I had carried a few boxes down the hall, put some of my old clothes into the massive closet, and started a box for charity.

I sat down and sipped at some cold water. Roman’s—well, our—closet held a small fridge constantly stocked with water, and I was grateful for it.

My phone was charged, and I noticed my voice mail was full. I sat down and listened to it. Most were from Margi and Anne when I went missing, worried and concerned. I had seen them last week, and we’d had coffee one day when Roman took me to the casino. They thought it was so romantic he didn’t want to be without me. I didn’t try to explain to them, preferring that they chose to think Roman had swept me off my feet.

The last message, though, had me on my feet in horror.

I dropped my phone to the floor, backing away as if the phone would bite me.

The message continued to play, the voice droning on in that familiar, nasal tone that always made me tense.

“So, dear sister, I heard the funniest rumor,” Marianne spat out. “The news is that you married Roman Costas today. I was certain I had heard wrong. I mean, what would a strong, powerful man like him want with a loser like you?”

There was a pause.

“Did he tell you, Effie? Did he tell you what he did?”

ROMAN

I was out of the car before it had even stopped in the driveway. I headed inside, Nonna greeting me.

“Where is she?”

She shook her head, wringing her hands. “She went outside for a walk. Over an hour ago, Roman.”

“But it’s cold. Raining. Why would she go outside?”

“She refused to listen to me.” Nonna grabbed my elbow. “She was so white, almost in shock. Something spooked her, but she refused to say anything. You must find her.” She indicated the back of the house. “She is out there.”

I took off running, everything in me tight and distraught. What could have happened that upset Effie so much? Outside, I headed toward the vineyards, almost stumbling when I saw her. Standing in between a row of vines, not moving, the rain pelting down, harder now than only a minute ago. I raced toward her, shouting her name. She turned, seeing me, pure fear skittering across her face. She began to run, slipping on the grass, falling and getting up, going as quickly as she could.

I roared in frustration, not understanding.