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The flattery, while bringing a shy warmth to my cheeks, reminds me of the night I met Leo. I can’t deny he’s a great conversationalist when he wants to be. And he has a dry sense of humor that makes me laugh before I can stop it.
He chuckles with me, the sound low and enticing, and the moment feels incredibly natural as we have a laugh at Tony Valencia’s expense. I suppose the one thing I can be grateful about in my marriage is that it saved me from spending a lifetime with the degenerate gambler.
It would be too easy to fall into the fluid and engaging conversation and forget about why I can’t trust Leo. Even for a second. He must be after something. And he simply masks it with such finesse, that I could almost believe he’s spending time with me simply because he enjoys my company.
But I’m unwilling to fall for his tricks again. It infuriates me to watch how masterful he is at manipulation. With a few well-placed words, he’s disarmed me, boosting my confidence and making me feel like he sees value in me. My thoughts and opinions even.
I would love nothing better than to destroy him for it, but I know I can’t do that without playing the long game. So, I keep my temper under tight control, waiting to see what he wants in case I might be able to use it against him.
“How have you been feeling with the pregnancy?” he asks casually, and it’s the first time he’s addressed the topic directly.
My shoulders tense slightly, and I work to lower them, calming myself as I rest my palm instinctively over the still near-invisible bump. “Well enough,” I say shortly. The hurt that lies beneath the consequences of losing my virginity is more potent as I discuss it with the person responsible.
“You seem to be sleeping well. Still no morning sickness?”
He delivers the question with impressively innocent curiosity, but after having to take a paternity test before he would even agree to marry me, I’m not blind to the undercurrent between us.
“Just because you’re not home enough to witness it doesn’t mean I haven’t been experiencing morning sickness,” I state flatly, stopping as I remove my hand from his elbow.
Caught off guard by my sudden vitriol, Leo pauses, his expression surprised as he turns to me. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to imply…”
Of course, he did. I’m not so naive as to not recognize he had doubts about the truth of my pregnancy. But that he would still be entertaining them is like a slap to the face. How can he possibly pretend that anyone but me was taken advantage of in this situation? If I had the strength, I might throttle him right here in the garden.
His expression softens into an unspoken apology. “Let me know if I can do anything to make you more comfortable, my love.” The endearment rolls right off his tongue, so sweet and affectionate. But directly following his underhanded question, it might as well be a punch to the gut.
“Don’t call me that,” I warn, my temper starting to get the better of me.
“Why not?” he asks, one eyebrow rising.
“Because you don’t love me.”
A pregnant pause lingers between us as Leo studies my face carefully, his hazel eyes calculating. Then he gives a single nod. “As you wish.”
He offers me his elbow once again, and as I take it, we resume walking, the break in eye contact a relief. I’m doing a far worse job of masking my anger toward Leo than I had hoped. I need to do better if I’m going to play a convincing role.
After several minutes of silence, Leo releases a sigh. “I realize we haven’t gotten off on the best foot, Tia, but I hope that eventually, you might learn to find me a tolerable companion.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say, trying my best to get myself back on track.
“I know I have no right to ask it of you now, but I need your help,” he says, turning to face me once again. “A favor, really.”
It’s my turn to raise my eyebrows as I wait silently for him to reveal what possible use he could have for me after pretending I don’t exist for the past three days.
“You recall Mayor Romney and his wife, who I introduced you to at the engagement party?”
“Yes, they came to the wedding as well,” I acknowledge, thinking back on the sweet older couple who had wished us happiness in our marriage. That was the exchange that gave me the brilliant idea of getting close to Leo, so I could learn how to hurt him.
“They’ve invited us to dinner tonight, and I need you to make a good impression. They seem to have taken quite a shine to you, and I would like to build on that.”
It’s like some merciful god heard my pleas and chose to take pity on me. This is the window into how I can ingratiate myself with Leo, make myself indispensable—and once I’ve gotten close enough to discover his weak point, I’ll be able to exploit it.
“Of course,” I agree readily. “If that’s what you need.”
Perhaps I was too heavy-handed in my performance of the obedient wife because Leo seems taken aback once again.
“Why are you so willing to help me?” he asks, his brows pressing into a frown that’s unreasonably sexy.
“Because we’re married. We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not, and I don’t see the point of shooting myself in the foot by refusing to help you with your goals.”
