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“That’s nice of you to say,” I tell him, dropping my hand heavily. “But it had everything to do with me.”
He moves closer, the air in the room thickening. I nearly jump when he touches me. Theo’s hands tighten on my hips to the point of pain, his lips inches away from mine. “Tell me not to make you mine.”
“I can’t but we both know if we do this, there is no going back. It will rip our families apart, start a war we won’t be able to fix and…just don’t. Please don’t.”
All the strength in the world can do nothing to help me walk away without bursting into tears.
ChapterTen
For better or for worse, Lucas is still away, and it’s coming up on a month since the wedding. I guess I should consider myself lucky—I’m free from his overbearing presence, and free from having to pretend to like him—but somehow, the longer he’s gone, the more nervous I get. It was one thing when we were at least civil to one another, but after our last phone call, I’m not sure how I can go back to acting like a good little wife.
Theo, on the other hand, has been a steadying presence the whole time, and I’m grateful for that. Though he doesn’t say it, I can tell he’s worried about me, and I don’t know how I could possibly tell him to relax. The elephant in the room is still festering between us, and the longer the time stretches out, the less sure I am of anything I once thought I knew.
“Where are you off to?” I ask as I gather up my work bag the following Monday, keenly aware of the tension rolling off him as he tucks his gun into its holster and shrugs into a perfectly-tailored suit jacket. “You’re usually out before I am. Running late?”
“Not exactly,” Theo replies. “I’m meeting someone for lunch.”
I glance at the clock and raise my eyebrows. “At... seven thirty in the morning?”
Theo hesitates. “It’s a business lunch,” he says evasively.
“That doesn’t count as lunch,” I insist. “That’s, like, atbest,a late breakfast.”
“You’re awfully suspicious today, kid,” Theo tells me, but there’s stress behind his smile.
“Come on,” I insist. “I heard you up at, what? Two AM?”
“I had a late night.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you look like you’re about to rip someone’s throat out at the breakfast table.”
Theo snorts, and then looks away. “Okay, fine. I’m meeting with someone from the Esposito family.”
“The Italian mob?” I blink. “Why?”
“They’ve been getting a little too bold with their operations since your wedding,” Theo replies. “Trying to snap up some of our distributors. I’m going to talk to the guy and make it clear that’s not going to happen. I’ll probably be dealing with him for most of the day.”
My blood runs cold as I remember Dad’s concern about the upheaval of London’s underworld. This must be where the rubber meets the road. It’s one thing for Lucas to be in the thick of it, but Theo... “What’re you going to do?”
“We’re going to talk,” Theo says, and I know by the way his tone is stiff and clipped that this is serious business.
“And...?”
“And... that’s it,” Theo replies. “Just talk.” Seeing the way my eyes dart to his sidearm, he moves closer to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “I promise, kid, I’ll be fine.”
“You make it sound so simple,” I joke, but I can’t hide the way my voice trembles, and as he turns towards the door, I blurt, “Be careful.”
“I always am,” Theo replies as he leaves, and I can’t help feeling like shit’s about to hit the fan.
* * *
Maybe that’swhy I keep checking my phone instead of taking inventory in the gallery storeroom as I wrap up my shift. I usually hear from Theo by now—if not a possessive check-in, then a playful bit of banter—but it’s been radio silence all day. I try to tell myself it’s not a big deal, that he’s just busy with his business associates, but the longer things go on, the more my nerves fray. It’s not like Theo to take this long to respond. After my third text goes unanswered, I’m on the verge of a full-blown freak-out, and it takes everything I have not to throw my phone across the room.
“Okay, chill out,” I tell myself as I deep breathe between a Van Gogh and a sculpture of a swan. “You’re fine. He’s fine. You’re all fine.”
“Who are you talking about?” Callie asks as she wanders into the storage room with a stack of papers in her arms.
“No one,” I blurt, but a little too fast, because she gives me a scrutinizing look.
