“Why?” I challenge. When she doesn’t answer, I ask again, harsher: “Why, Olivia?”
“I can’t do this,” she says, trying to put some distance between us.
I don’t let her. “Do what?”
“This. With you,” she says, a bit of panic in her voice.
“Why? You did it before, and you were going to do it again last night. Look at me, Olivia,” I snap. But she doesn’t.
I reach up to grab her chin and force her to meet my eyes. “What changed?”
“You know what changed!” She finally bursts.
We hold in place for a moment, her breasts brushing my chest with each harsh breath she takes. Then she’s shoving at me again.
“Let me go!” she yells, pushing me away. “Don’t touch me.”
I lift my hands, palms out, and take a step back. “Okay,” I say, voice even. “I’m not touching you.”
She drags in a breath and smooths her blouse as if she needs the motion. The flush in her cheeks fades to a tight, pale line around her mouth. Her eyes won’t hold mine for more than a second.
“Talk to me, Olivia,” I say. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she snaps, then flinches at her own answer. “I told you I’m tired. That’s all.”
I shake my head once. “That’s a lie.”
“I just have to go.” She swallows and reaches for her bag.
I step in her path. “No. Not until we talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Again, you’re lying to me. I don’t appreciate lies,” I say, my voice hard. Then softer: “Something changed. What?”
“I don’t appreciate lies, either, Roberto,” she says, her voice wavering. “And that’s all you’ve done. The whole time. So don’t fucking preach to me!” Her voice goes up at the end.
Olivia does not swear easily—except in bed—so hearing it coming from her mouth is a bit shocking.
“What lies?” I ask, low. “Talk to me.”
I need to hear what she knows before I continue.
And suddenly, the thought of more lies is exhausting. I don’t want to lie to her. I want her to know everything. I want her to accept me for who I am.
But I know she won’t, so I have to protect the Family.
She laughs; it’s harsh and ugly. “Still, you’re thinking of more ways to lie to me. You look me in the eye and talk about honesty, and all you’ve done is pile one lie on top of another. Let me sleep with you while you lied out of your ass, making a fucking fool of me while you fucked me at every opportunity.”
My temper flashes at her words. I reach out and grab her waving wrist and pull her close.
She gasps, her eyes widening.
“Don’t you dare say that. Don’t cheapen it,” I say, my voice hard. “You want to have a conversation, let’s talk. But don’t make us sleeping together something it wasn’t. That was never a lie.”
“But you are,” she says, just as harshly. “You’re a lie. Everything about you. You let me believe that lie. Let me… do things with you.” The shame flashes across her face. “Let me believe that—"
She cuts herself off, yanks her wrist out of my hand, and turns away, but not before I see the shine in her eyes.
