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"No, of course not.” I stare at her in horror. “I... I don’t want to not be married to him."
"From where I am, it seems you don’t want to be married to him, either."
"I…" I shake my head. "I know I don’t not want to have him.”
“You said you don’t want to not be married to him.” She shakes her head. “You’re confusing me, babe.”
“I’m confusing myself.” I twist my fingers together. “It’s just, realizing the depth of what I feel for him, and then having him tell me he loves me—"
"Wait, he told you he loves you?" she screeches.
I wince. "Stop that godawful sound, and yes, when I went to see him in his hospital room, he told me he loves me." A small smile curves my lips. "Most eloquently, actually. I’d have never thought that big, bad Mafiahole would have such a, a... lyrical vocabulary when it came to declarations of his feelings."
"So, he told you he loves you, and you responded by telling him you needed some time apart from him?"
I wince. "Pretty much."
"And he let you go?"
I glance into the depths of my glass. "Reluctantly, but he did."
"Wow, I wouldn’t have expected that."
"Me neither. It would have been easier if he hadn’t, you know? It would have given me a reason to doubt his declaration. But not only did he control himself, but he also didn’t try to stop me. He just agreed to my wishes, and that… only made me look at him differently. I mean, clearly, the man has it in him to respect what I want. He gave me space when it was the last thing he wanted to do. In fact, he hasn’t called me since I left his hospital room."
"You don’t sound happy about it."
"I’m not," I confess.
"Isn’t that what you wanted? Space and time to think."
"Yes, but..." I drain my glass, then place it back on the table. "I mean, he could have, at least, called or texted to check on me. It doesn’t feel right, you know, for him to give in to my wishes like this. It’s not like him to agree to what I want without wielding some form of control over the proceedings."
"So, what, you think he’s watching you or something?" She laughs.
I stare at her. "That’s it. I bet he’s having me shadowed by someone, or maybe, he’s doing it himself… No, he’s probably not fully recovered yet for that. I’ll bet he has someone following me around. That’s why I’ve felt like I was being watched. That’s why he hasn’t called me. He doesn’t need to. He knows where I am, because he had one of JJ’s men drop me at this apartment, which belongs to him, by the way. He knows where I am, because he had one of JJ’s men drop me at this apartment, which probably belongs to him, by the way." I glance around the space. "Wanna bet he has cameras on me in this apartment, too?"
"Ooh—" She perks up. "So he’s watching you sleep and stuff?"
"And stuff." I look around the room, take in the corners of the ceilings, the paintings on the wall. There are so many places where he could have hidden a camera. I stiffen. Yes, that’s it. He’s probably watching me, even now, as we speak. "Jerkass," I growl.
"You know, if he’s watching you, you can use it to your advantage."
I swivel my head to face her. "What do you mean?"
"If he’s watching you—" a sly look comes into her eyes "—you can show him what he’s missing."
57
Massimo
"What the—?" I stare at the window on my phone. The window that’s linked to the app which monitors Via’s apartment. So, I hadn’t been completely truthful with her when I said I’d give her space. I mean, technically, I gave her space. I let her leave and I’m not with her physically. In fact, I haven’t been in the same room as her since she’d left the hospital room.
I was relieved when she agreed to move into the apartment Peter suggested for her. Of course, if she decided to move elsewhere, I’d have found a way to bug that, too, so I could have eyes on her. And it has nothing to do with the fact that I love watching her when she’s home. And when she’s out, Peter has her in his line of sight all the time.
Technically, now that Alvaro’s dead, she shouldn’t be in any danger. But I underestimated the kind of security she’d need the last time, which is how Alvaro got that close to her. I don’t intend to allow that to happen again. Hence, the level of security I’ve maintained around her. Of course, the fact that I always know where she is means I can keep her safe. Only, it hasn’t prepared me for what she’s up to right now.
I watch as she walks out of her closet wearing a skimpy robe made of a material that’s so diaphanous I can see right through it. I can make out the bra and panties she’s wearing, and fishnets that are held up by... It can’t be, can it? Fuck me, she’s a wearing garter belt. The blood drains to my groin.
