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I want to ask what he means by that. Curiosity tears at me, but Evander doesn’t seem like he wants to go into detail about what happened with his family when he became the lord, and there’s some part of me that doesn’t want to know the details.
It was a violent mob coup. I can imagine how that went down.
And I’m terrified that if I heard the ugly particulars, I might ever be able to look at him the same.
Would that be so bad?
I stifle and a yawn and finish my wine. “I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to take a shower and turn in early. Are you coming to bed tonight, or are you going to hide out again?”
His eyes widen slightly. He stares at me for a moment, his jaw working, and I can tell I pissed him off, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Like usual.
“I have work to do,” he says finally.
“Right. Like usual. And I guess you’re still letting me get used to everything?”
He walks toward me suddenly. “Are you saying you want me in your bed tonight?”
“I’m saying I’ve been sleeping inyourbed, without you, for days now. That’s all I’m saying.”
He stops inches away from me, staring down into my eyes. “I am not avoiding you.” His gaze drifts to the ring on my finger. “And you will be my wife soon.”
“How soon?”
“My friend Gareth is drawing up the papers. They’ll be ready tomorrow.”
Fear suddenly jolts through me. Fear and anxiety war for control, but I force myself to stay still as he stands inches away from me, looking beautiful. He smells like whiskey and pine, a heady cologne.
“Tomorrow we’ll make it official then,” I whisper.
“Which means tonight, I’m coming to bed.”
“Prove it.” I force myself to move and brush past him. “For a big, bad mafia man, you sure do like to talk a lot.”
I open the bedroom door and I expect an ugly retort from him—but instead, he chuckles softly, sounding genuinely amused, and a quick pulse runs through my heart.
Tomorrow, it’s official. And tonight, he’s coming to bed.
I don’t know if I’m happy or terrified, but I think it might be a mixture of both.
Chapter28
Camille
I’m a nervous wreck all the next day at the diner. I keep thinking about Evander, the paperwork, becoming the Greek crime lord’s wife, everything that goes along with my new position in the world—and it scares me half to death.
But it’s better than being out on the street with nothing but a pair of expensive vintage sneakers to my name and a violent, angry ex-husband trying to hunt me down.
I keep catching looks from the made guys hanging around. I’m not sure if they know what’s happening tonight, but I keep wondering if they’re going to come up to congratulate me. Instead, they remain silent, keep their distance like always, and I’m left alone with my anxiety.
“You okay, girl?” Phel asks midway through the afternoon, once the lunch rush is over. “You’ve been jittery all day.”
“It’s nothing, I’m fine.” I give her my best smile. It feels completely false.
Phel leans against the counter, eyebrows raised. “Ooookay, right, so what’s up? You look like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin.”
I laugh and straighten my apron. “Is it really that obvious?”
“You’re basically bouncing off the walls. Either you’re going through some, like, manic phase or whatever, or you’re nervous about something.”
