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“I’m not setting a foot in that house while that woman is there.”
“I wasn’t asking, Tara.” I pin her with my gaze. “You’ll come. And you’ll be polite. End of discussion.”
Tara grits her teeth. “Fine.”
I turn to leave when my eyes snag on the bookshelf in the corner. One of the books has been left leaning against the back of the shelf. On the cover, a woman in a white vintage dress is embracing a shirtless, long-haired guy, who seems to be suffering from constipation. I’m pretty sure I saw that exact book on Sienna’s nightstand, right next to another one with a half-naked guy howling at the moon.
“I have a feeling you and my wife will get along beautifully,” I throw over my shoulder.
When I return home, I head directly to my bedroom. A small part of me hopes I’ll find Sienna there after all, but when I open the door, my bed is empty.
I take a quick shower and then lie awake for nearly an hour, resisting the urge to seek out my wife and bring her back to my bed. Eventually, I lose the fight and leave my room, making my way down the hallway to the room at the far end of the floor.
Sienna is asleep, curled up into a ball, clutching a pillow to her chest. This bed is too small for both of us, so I slide my arms under my spellbinding wife and carry her back to my own.
Yes, her sole reason for coming into my home was to spy on me. Yes, she went as far as snooping on my phone to read my messages. And yes, I’m still angry as hell.
But I’m not spending a night without her in my bed. Not a single night. I lower her onto the bed, then lie down behind her and wrap my arms around her sleeping form. She might be a sneaky, scheming little spy, but she’s my spy.
Chapter 14
I pretend to be immersed in eating the pie served at dinner, while secretly observing my husband. He’s wearing jeans and a white dress shirt. The top two buttons are undone and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. I still find it unusual that the men here wear such casual attire. The Cosa Nostra members’ everyday clothes consist almost exclusively of suits. The only time I’ve seen Ajello’s men dressed casually was on the day of Asya’s wedding, and only because Pasha warned that no one in a suit would be allowed at the venue. I’ve seen Drago decked out in a full suit several times so far, but he typically wears just a button-down shirt and jeans.
He hasn’t said a word to me since he caught me with his phone five days ago. Mostly, he acts as if I’m not even present. Except at night.
Every evening, an hour or so after I go to sleep, he comes into my bedroom at the end of the hall and carries me back to his own. The first time, I didn’t realize it happened until his arms wrapped around my body as he pulled me against his chest. I pretended I was still asleep while sinking into the comfort of his bed and the warmth of his body. The following morning, however, I woke up in my new room.
At first, I thought I dreamed it all, but then I smelled his scent on me. I wasn’t sleeping when he showed up the following night, but I acted like I was. And in the morning, when he carried me back, I did the same. I’m not actually sure if he knows I’m faking being asleep, but he can’t expect I wouldn’t notice him carrying me around five nights in a row. Maybe he’s pretending, too.
I don’t know what to think of his actions. But one thing I do know is that keeping up this farce is becoming unbearable. I want to be able to touch him and to freely snuggle into his side. And I want us to have sex again so much that it feels like my pussy weeps with need. I could tell him the truth. Explain my reasons for accepting the marriage, even though he would probably just laugh at me. Who in their right mind marries a stranger because of the fear of being alone? No. I can’t bare myself to him like that.
Drago is nodding at whatever Filip is saying, his eyes focused on his second-in-command’s mouth. Not at the ground as I initially thought. He’s completely ignoring me sitting at his side.
Feigning indifference, I pick up my phone off the table and, pursing my lips, take a selfie. Drago doesn’t turn around. It’s as if he doesn’t give a fuck about me. Only, he does.
After I saw my pictures on his phone, I started paying more attention and noticed things I missed before. How he frequently comes into the kitchen while I’m there, asks Keva a nonsensical question, and then leaves. Each time this happens, I can feel his eyes on me while I pretend to be engrossed in whatever I’m doing at that moment. Or, whenever he stumbles upon me playing video games with Adam, he barks orders and sends him on an errand, even when it seems rather trivial. And, yesterday, when I was playing with the dogs outside, I saw my husband standing by the garage, watching me. The instant he realized I’d spotted him, he turned away and left.
I’m done being ignored.
“Hey, Filip.” I prop my chin on my hand and smile. “Can I ask for a favor?”
Both Drago and his right-hand man look at me.
“Um, sure,” Filip says, throwing a quick look at Drago whose eyes are glued to my lips. “What do you need?”
“Do you have some free time tomorrow?” I chirp.
“He doesn’t,” Drago snaps.
I tilt my head and look at him, keeping the smile plastered on my face. “I was asking Filip.”
“And I responded. What do you need him for?”
“I wanted to ask Filip to teach me to drive a car. But if he’s busy, I’ll ask someone else.” I shrug. “Is Adam available?”
“No.”
“Oh. How about—”
