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He takes a drink from his coffee as I process.
He did have someone else come with her for her interview and her first shift, and I can only assume it was because he was handling some kind of business. My comment was more meant as a joke, but it’s clear he didn’t take it as one.
When I don’t answer, he once again pulls me in with his voice and those dark eyes and his penetrating presence.
“What kind of man would I be if I left her in a vulnerable position where your husband could walk right in and do as he pleases to her?” He pauses. “Because I’m sure we both know that your husband can’t be trusted. That he likes to have his cake and eat it, too.” He cocks an eyebrow.
The world stills.
Myworld stills.
His words wash over me, and my senses are immediately all firing at once, telling me that while this man may look like sex fucking personified, he has something on his agenda that I don’t want to mess any part of.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say, after clearing my throat and shoving down my true feelings.
I’ve gotten quite good at playing a role in the past couple of years, and while I hate it, I know when to use it to my advantage.
I am not that scared little girl anymore.
Niccolò leans backward again, and I take a drink from my own coffee cup to try and focus on anything other than the fact that this man is getting under my skin. I know my husband treats me in a…less than desirable way. But there’s no way he’s cheating on me. That is strictly against DeSantis code. They honor their commitments. And why would he want to fuck so much if he’s getting it from somewhere else?
“It means I don’t trust your husband, and I refuse to allow my sister anywhere near him.” Niccolò shrugs as I inhale a deep breath and put up my defenses. “Do you think your husband is one of the good guys, Evelina? Be honest.” He picks his book up and checks the time on his phone. “You seem like you could offer a man a lot. Strong woman. Business owner. Fuckingbeautiful…but tortured.”
He shakes his head as his eyes roam over my body, and I let him drink me in like I’m his dying fucking wish.
Because this arrogant prick has just gutted me without any weapons at all.
Anger starts to ignite in my veins as I realize what he’s insinuating. And hell, it may all be the truth, but I don’t like him knowing it. I don’t want to look like the idiot wife who can’t satisfy her husband. Or like I’m settling.
Even if I am.
So I do what I do best, and I put on a show.
“You think I’m unhappy, Niccolò?” I ask, finally putting on my big-girl fucking panties that I’ve kept tucked away for far too long.
Playing the role of dutiful wife hasn’t made me forget who I am.
It hasn’t made me forget where I come from.
I just get to choose when I let the real me out.
“You think I’mtortured? That I’m some damsel in distress who lives under her husband’s thumb and can’t be strong in my own right? You think I’m settling for a man who is doing shit behind my back?”
I scoff as a smirk spreads out across his handsome, fucking arrogant face.
“I’m a hell of a lot stronger than a man like you could ever understand,” I say.
Rage burns my veins, reaching inferno-like temperatures as it scalds my skin from the inside. I hate looking like a fool. I hate it almost as much as I hate the role I’m playing in my own goddamn life.
“You think that just because I married into this life that I can’t stand on my own two feet?” I’m letting it all out, albeit as quietly as possible as the kids and Giana head back into the main area from picking out their books to take home.
“Mmm,” he muses, smirk still in place on his smug face. “I believe all I said was tortured. But if that’s how you see yourself…”
I roll my eyes and step forward, hating that I have to look up at him because he towers over my small frame. “I’d prefer if you don’t come back with Giana for her next shift,” I say, swiping his coffee mug away from where he sat and putting it into the sink on the back wall, as if that’s going to show him who’s boss.
“Not possible, sweets.”
He stands from his stool with a wink, and I have to hold in my violent tendencies to slap him.
