I frown, studying her. The way she says it sounds like a trap. Like she wants me to show all my cards when we’re still in the middle of the game we play.
I look into her baby-blue eyes, at her long lashes closing in on them slowly and opening up again. And I know I should lie to her. Tell her it meant nothing. But the truth is, I know what I said. Why I said it. And I especially remember how her breath hitched when I did.
My hand tightens on my glass.
“You told me it’s getting hard to remember why you started all of this. That you don’t know what to do with me anymore. Did you mean that?”
I ponder my answer carefully, but I know there’s only one.
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
She tilts her head, surprised I confessed. “Then tell me one thing. And don’t lie.”
I smile. “Never.”
“What will happen to my family? I assume my father can’t get off that easily, with just me being married off.”
I look down at my glass, then back at her. A muscle ticks in my jaw. She wants to know if she can trust me. And I want to tell her the truth, but I don’t know if I can trust her either. Besides, this isn’t the time or the place. Anyone could hear us, and theinformation could easily reach Father. I won’t be as stupid as to reveal my cards out in public.
“You’re hesitating. Are you afraid to confide in me, Wolfgang?” She laughs under her breath. “Maybe I don’t give myself enough credit.”
Afraid, no. Cautious, maybe. She’s a powerful woman, even if she doesn’t realize it.
“I can’t answer that right now,” I say, watching her expression change into what looks like surprise, or misbelief. Or both. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”
She squints her eyes. “Trust you? Just like that…?”
I admit, I expected her question to have some bite to it. But it didn’t. It’s almost as if shewantsto trust me, as if all she needs is for me to say yes to that. Maybe I’m closer than I thought to owning her heart.
“Yes. Just like that, love. I think deep down you know you can.”
She opens her mouth to say something, when–
“What a small world,” a man’s voice says to my right. I slide my eyes away from my wife to land on Luca Moretti, the Italian pianist playing at almost every party on the Upper East Side. Wrapped around his arm is Isadora Vellin, the daughter of an investment banker notorious for engaging in insider trading with his sister-in-law.
They’re not a threat, so I’m not surprised Ivan and the rest of our men let them in without texting me first. In fact, by the look on my wife’s face, it seems like they’re quite an interesting appearance. Or, at least, Isadora is.
“Where have you been, Wolf? We rarely see you at any parties these days,” she says, fluttering her lashes at me. The hand on Luca’s arm loosens, and she keeps shifting until she’s closer to my side of the table.
Luca doesn’t seem to mind—it’s not like they’re together, not really. Nobody is a real couple in Manhattan these days.
“Busy,” I say. “Besides, they’ve always bored me. You know that.”
Isadora laughs, this time planting her entire manicured hand on my shoulder, as if to keep herself from falling over backwards. Victoria squints her eyes, her face contorting, displeased. My eyebrows rise.
Is my wife… is she jealous right now?
I watch her closely as I keep throwing random answers into the conversation I can’t seem to get rid of. She’s a little flushed, but not the horny kind. No. She’s annoyed. And the way she leans back in her chair with her arms crossed proves that.
I smile, and she throws me a murderous look.
My satisfaction vanishes instantly when I tune back into the conversation to hear Luca say—
“…at least five men who would want to take turns with her all night. She’s a pretty little thing. Would look good on camera for the world to see. Wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
My entire fucking body goes taut.
Fire licks at my veins.
