Or someone changed her.
"When's the last time you actually saw her?" Bruno asks, pulling me from my spiraling thoughts. "Besides family dinners where you're surrounded by people?"
I think about it, counting back the days. "Almost a week."
"A week? What the fuck? You're getting married soon and you haven't seen your fiancée alone in a week?"
"She's been busy with whatever she's doing. I've been busy with business." The excuses sound weak even to my own ears.
"Busy with what specifically?"
"Business. Things." I sound like her now, I realize. Vague and evasive and offering nothing concrete.
"You’re not putting in the work. No wonder she’s gone cold on you. Maybe you should go see her. Actually, talk to her face to face instead of obsessing over text messages and worst-case scenarios. Ask her what's wrong. Ask her what changed."
I don't respond, because the truth is lodged in my throat. The truth is, I'm scared to ask. Terrified of what the answer might be.
If she says yes—if she tells me there's someone else, that she's in love with someone else—then what do I do?
I can't walk away from this arrangement. Our families need this alliance. The territories, the business opportunities, the expansion into new markets—it all depends on this marriage happening.
But if she's in love with someone else, if her heart belongs to another man...
"I should have put a tracker on her car," I mutter, the thought occurring to me suddenly.
"What?" Bruno's tone is sharp with alarm.
"A tracker. Like she did to mine." I look at him, the idea taking shape. "I should have done the same thing. Then I'd know where she is right now. What she's doing. Who she's with."
"Boss, that's—"
"Smart. That would be smart strategically. She even said so about my car."
"No, that would be completely insane." Bruno stands, his expression concerned now. "You need to calm down. You're spiraling into paranoia."
"I'm protecting my interests."
"You're being jealous and irrational," he counters firmly. "And you're letting it cloud your judgment in ways that could be dangerous."
Maybe he's right. Maybe I am jealous of some phantom rival I've created in my mind. But that doesn't mean I'm wrong about the situation.
"Where is she right now?" Bruno asks pointedly.
"I don't know. She didn't tell me her plans."
"Have you asked her?"
"No."
"Why not?"
Because I don't want to look desperate. Because I don't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing she's gotten under my skin, that her distance affects me. Because I'm terrified of what she might say if I push for answers.
"I'm giving her space like she clearly wants," I say instead.
"Or you're avoiding the truth because you're afraid of it."
Bruno heads for the door, clearly done with this conversation. "Talk to her before you drive yourself completely crazy with theories that probably aren't even true."
