Page 4 of Entangled

And that only made it that much more difficult.

Gian could have moved Elena into his penthouse, and sold his grandfather’s mansion for a few million, but he had chosen a different route. For one, because neither he, nor his wife, wanted to be together in a smaller space than they had to be. And for two, because the penthouse was his, much like her previous penthouse had belonged solely to her. They were not accustomed to living together, and Gian had built his life around the fact that his wife was not going to be involved.

He was not going to change his lifestyle entirely, simply to suit the desires of a few people who watched him like a hawk.

Thankfully, Elena didn’t put up much of an argument when Gian suggested the mansion as a sort of middle ground. He spent a couple of days and nights there, though usually in an entirely different wing from his wife, and a few nights at his penthouse in the city where he was easily assessable to his men and business.

That certainly didn’t mean either of them liked the arrangement, which only made nights like these that much fucking harder to get through.

“You good, boss?” Chris asked.

Gian kept his features schooled as he replied, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You just seem … quiet.”

“When have you ever known me to be loud?”

The enforcer chuckled. “Point taken.”

“Are you in the mood for dinner?” Gian asked. “You’re more than welcome to join us. Elena does seem fond of you.”

Or at least, the woman was slightly more pleasant when someone else was nearby.

“I could eat.”

That was that.

Elena barely blinked a lash at one of Gian’s men entering the mansion behind him. Wearing one of her usual dresses, with her blonde hair perfectly done and her makeup flawless, she greeted Chris first, and only turned to Gian once the enforcer headed toward the dining area of the right wing.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight,” Elena said.

No greeting.

No hello.

Nothing.

“It’s Saturday, Elena. I always come here on Saturday nights.”

“Not usually this late.”

“Do you want a daily update for when I plan to come and go from different places, and when I might show up here?” Gian asked.

Because if that would keep her from meeting him at the door, he would happily try to provide her with those details.

“You’re being a smartass,” Elena said, “and I could do without the attitude.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Well, you certainly had a long night, didn’t you?”

Gian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “If you’re talking about the dinner, and then the birthday party at the club last night, yes, it made for a long evening.”

Elena crossed her arms, her jaw stiff as she stared at him hard. He always thought blue eyes would have fit his wife far better than her brown eyes did—the iciness in her gaze couldn’t quite be matched by any other woman he had come in contact with. Sometimes, her brown gaze gave off a sense of warmth simply because of their color, but it was a lie.

She was colder than ice.

“And why wasn’t I invited?” Elena asked. “I am your wife, Gian.”