The memory of him makes me immediately sad. Has it only been two days since our final visit? God, I’m going to miss him. I still haven’t wrapped my mind around the fact that he bought the entire apartment building to save it from being demolished by Ruffo. I didn’t dare to believe it fully until I called Mrs. Dixon yesterday morning, and she confirmed that her eviction notice had been revoked. My story about my elderly neighbor must have resonated with my silent guest so much that he chose to do something about her and the other residents’ plight. Irrefutable proof that there are still good people in this world. Caring people.
Not like my husband, who turned a blind eye to their hurt and struggle even after seeing it firsthand. Other people mean next to nothing to him.
“Why can’t you be more like him?”I ask the empty kitchen.
A sad laugh escapes me. God, I’m losing my grip.
Chapter 25
I suppress the urge to overturn the solid wood monstrosity that can seat sixteen people, the one I went through a great deal of effort to import from Spain, all so I can entertain various members ofla Famigliaonce a year. An activity I detest, but which is a necessary evil.
Whose fucking idea was this?
As if beneath twin spotlights, bathed in the soft glow of the elaborate crystal chandeliers above, two places have been set at opposite sides of the table.For an intimate dinner between my wife and me?Someone is going to die tonight for coming up with this stupid arrangement.
I spent an entire day at the Ruffo Enterprises headquarters, going over contracts for the acquisition of another company with my legal team. A mind-numbing experience. Then, I got summoned to the Spada Estate to personally explain to the don why a certain shipment of cocaine is being delayed. I left in the middle of his tirade when my migraine hit a nuclear level, in urgent need of my exclusive pain-relieving drug. Dinner with Iris seemed like a safe, reasonable solution. I didn’t anticipate us being separated by more than fifteen feet of Spanish walnut wood.
“Is something wrong with your food?”
My wife shakes her head and continues to push sauteed shrimp around her plate. After her eyes flared when I obviouslysurprised her at the dining room table, she hasn’t looked at me once. Was she hoping I wouldn’t be home for dinner?
“If you don’t like it, I’ll have it tossed, and the staff can get something else ordered in for you.”
That earns me my second look of the night. One laden with condemnation.
“There’s enough food here to feed twenty people. You can’t seriously be considering simply throwing it all away.”
“Why not? It won’t be any good tomorrow.”
“And you don’t see anything wrong with chucking food into the garbage when there are people out there who are starving?”
“Not particularly. Their circumstances are not my fault.”
“Of course not.” She turns back to her unappealing dinner.
I wait for her to say more, to argue over my callous response, berate me for being heartless—anything, as long as she keeps talking—but she just returns her blank and silent stare to her plate.
“How’s your mother?”
“She’s fine. Thank you for arranging the nurse for her daily home visit, and for setting me up with the driver and car to take me over to see her. I’m sorry if that caused you any inconvenience.”
“You don’t have to thank me. Your mother’s medical care was part of our deal. And as my wife, you get a personal chauffeur. Something I arranged even before we were married, but you refused to use. Regardless, Theo is always at your disposal now and can take you wherever you want to go. Just make sure to let him know your destination in advance, so he can coordinate the trip with the security chief on duty.”
“Are you afraid I might make a run for it?”
“Precisely.” I nod, even though I have no concerns about that at all. I’ve learned a thing or two about my wife during our time together. Keeping her promises is paramount to her. There’s no way she’d ever bolt. What does keep me up at night is the thought that the rhymey bastard might get to her somehow. I haven’t told Iris about the threats because I don’t want to scare her. My little flower should never worry about the ugly parts of this world. The very suggestion that she might ever be afraid for her life is driving me ballistic.
A heavy sigh leaves Iris’s lips, and my eyes immediately snap to her mouth.
“Could I ask you to come with me to see her one of these days?”
My gaze flies to meet hers. A ridiculous hope unfurls that she might actually want to spend some time with me.
“She’s been asking about you. And, I don’t want her to worry or become suspicious about us. I’m not sure she ever truly bought my explanation for why we got married so fast. And it’s not like I can tell her the real reason.”
My teeth grind. Of course, appeasing her mother is the only reason Iris would want to spend time with me. Why would I think she’d feel different? Can’t blame her, really. Not when I showed her exactly who I am. My wife has seen more of the true me than any other human being. And I saw the repulsion in her when she did. The disdain for the animal in me. Which is why I pulled away from her. Hating me is better for my flower. It absolves her of my sins. She’ll never want me as me. She’d rather havehim.
“I’ll try to make time,” I say.
