Page 12 of The Mafia Husband's Loveless Marriage

Orion hid a smile. His young mistress hadn't made a sound, but her eyes were very expressive, and right now, it was quite obvious she was squealing internally in delight.

While Orion went to have coffee prepared, Maika was left all alone to explore the library more leisurely, and oh, how fun it was to have an actual rolling ladder to use to peruse all the books on the upper shelves. She kicked off from the floor and let the ladder glide along the rail, and the sound it made—a low, satisfying rumble—was so ridiculously satisfying that she did it again. And then a third time, just because she could.

Everything was perfectly organized. Reference. Biographies. History. Suspense. True Crime. And shelf after shelf of first-edition classics, andoh my goodness!

There, behind a glass panel on the third shelf, was a leather-bound complete works of Shakespeare. The gold lettering on the spine had been worn smooth from handling, which meant thiswasn't a collector's showpiece. Someone had actuallyreadthis, and she already knew who.

Maika carefully opened the glass. Pulled the volume out with both hands, the way you'd hold a newborn. Opened it to the front page.

An inscription, faded ink:For Mykos, on his tenth birthday. Read the histories first. —D.

Her throat closed.

A ten-year-old boy, given Shakespeare by his father. A father who had told him to read the histories first—the plays about kings, about power, about what happened to men who loved badly and led worse.

She closed the book. Put it back. Carefully. In the exact right spot.

And that was when she noticed there was one last shelf at the back of the library, tucked behind the reading chairs. It even had a lovely customized nameplate on top.

Maika's Corner.

The shelf was stocked full of Shakespeare's works in different forms and editions. Annotated Folios. AMidsummer Night's Dreampop-up book that made her let out a sound that could only be described as a squeak. A set of Shakespearean insult magnets. A hardcover collection of essays titledShakespeare and the Art of Coping. Anything that had to do with the Bard, this shelf had it, and she couldn't even imagine how in the world Mykos had managed to have this ready in so short a time...and why.

When Orion returned, Portia was with him. The housekeeper was pushing a tray laden with coffee and a selection of desserts, and Maika could have hugged them both.

"I saw the shelf at the back with my name on it," she confided shyly, her fingers still trembling from what she had just discovered.

Portia beamed. "It's the master's surprise for you."

"I love it," she gushed. "But...how...when we were only married..."

Orion and Portia looked at each other.

"What is it?" Maika felt like she was missing something.

"It took Mr. Ravensworth an entire week," Portia said finally.

A week?

But they had just married yesterday.

How—

"The master didn't marry you on a whim," Orion said gently, "and his bride couldn't just be any woman."

Maika remembered her husband's words.

I need you to keep me from being a monster.

At that time, she had made a joke out of it because she didn't know what else to do. His words didn't make sense at all.

But now...

I need you to keep me from being a monster.

She thought about him being the son of Diogenes Ravensworth.

She thought about all the things he had witnessed as a child.