And she would be happy with me.
I would accept nothing less. Not because I needed that result to feel better. Other people were allowed to be happy, but I didn’t have to be exposed to the disease.
No, happiness wasn’t in the cards for someone like me. I had a whole mob to rule. Football season started next week. The pre-season meant I would be working most nights in our speakeasies and back rooms. And the men were focused on that, illegal gambling that went with the sports season, so they weren’t jabbering too loudly about the wedding. Our Clan seemed to have accepted it, and since my wife didn’t slit my throat, I guessed we were okay. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of an unknown threat that haunted every step I took.
Chapter 20 – Gabriella
The purr of an engine had me looking up from the pot. Steam billowed from the sink, but through the misty rush, I spotted a black Jaguar pulling through the front gate.
A shiver vibrated down my spine.
Excitement made my breath hitch.
Liam was home.
I quickly tossed a drop of olive oil in the pasta before taking it and the grilled chicken skillet to the dining room table. I was able to rush back for a second paper plate and plastic table setting before the garage door opened.
“Liam! Hi,” I breathed, skidding to a stop next to the island. I held up his plate in explanation. “I wasn’t expecting you home, or I’d have your spot set.”
He looked at me. Really looked. My heart thumped against my ribs. He was finally home, and that thought made me feel…funny.
But he didn’t have the same reaction. Fidgeting under his gaze, I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed, careful not to smile like a dopey teen.
Whatever he saw made him frown. “I’m not hungry.”
Those three little words hung in the air. I wasn’t prepared for how much they would hurt.
“Well, I didn’t have to cook for you,” I sniped and dropped the extra dishes on the island.
Turning on my heel, I marched back into the dining room. I liked this space. The tiny lights from the chandelier flickered over the glossy wood table like a dark pool. The walls were trimmed with the same deep shade of rusty brown. There was green wallpaper from the ceiling down to where the trim created patterns on the wall to the floor. It felt like something out of a great manor home. Like dining in a castle of old. That was why I ate in here instead of the breakfast nook in the kitchen.
The door swayed open. The room seemed to shrink, the oxygen sucked out by the lights struggling to keep the darkness away.
Ignoring the beast’s glower, I began to scoop food on my plate.
Liam watched from his post at the swinging door. Those grey-blue eyes stared at me, searching for something.
“It smells good.”
I looked up. “It is.” And then, because I was a glutton for punishment, I added sharply, “Do you know the trouble I went to for this?”
I wished I could push rewind. Take back the words. But the hurt made me lash out.
Liam stepped forward. The door fell closed behind him, entombing me in the dining room with the Irish devil. “I didn’t ask you to.”
“Don’t worry. I never make the same mistake twice,” I huffed.
Tension crackled through the room.
“Why don’t you cry to someone else about it?”
The jab confused me. Who would I cry to? No one listened to me. I was in this alone.
“Fine, see if I steal, shop, or cook for you again,” I bit out, bitterness making me once more careless with my words.
Liam’s hand shot out and snatched the fork from my fingers. “Steal?”
Merda.
