Page 21 of The Mafia Husband's Loveless Marriage

She stared at the bare pillow for a long time. Every morning since their wedding, there had been a note. Sometimes teasing (Are you about to hug this pillow because you miss my scent?). Sometimes brief (Meeting at nine. —M). Sometimes just his initial and a dash, which she had come to understand was his version of sayingI'm thinking of you, but I'd rather die than admit it.

Today, there was nothing.

He didn't come back to join her for dinner like he usually did. It was also the first night that she fell asleep without her husband by her side. But it wasn't the last.

The second day, she told herself he was busy. He ran a company. He had meetings. People depended on him. It was fine. She was fine.

The third day, she found herself checking the security cameras in the hallway, and she saw him come through the front door at two in the morning and go directly to his study. He didn't even glance toward the stairs.

The fourth day, Portia started looking at her with that careful, worried expression that staff wore when they knew something was wrong but weren't allowed to say so. Maika smiled at her and said everything was fine, and Portia nodded and didn't believe her, and they both pretended otherwise.

The fifth day, she sat in Maika's Corner in the library and tried to read, but the words kept blurring. She pulled down theMidsummer Night's Dreampop-up book and opened it to the page with the fairy forest, and she stared at the little paper trees until her eyes burned.

The sixth day, she heard him in the hallway outside their bedroom at four in the morning. His footsteps paused. She held her breath, lying rigid under the covers, her whole body straining toward the door.Come in. Please. Just come in.

The footsteps continued down the hall.

And when an entire week went by that she didn't see him at all even though she knew for a fact that he did come home—

It just seemed like he didn't want to see her.

What did I do wrong, God?

Was it wrong to tell him I love him?

How can love be wrong?

She knew things couldn't go on like this, and that was why, even though she was so, so tempted to pretend everything was okay...

She prayed for courage, but she also drank several cups of coffee because she had never been a night owl. She sat at the foot of the stairs in her pajamas and one of his stolen shirts, her hands wrapped around her fourth cup, her bare feet cold against the marble. The house was silent. Orion had gone to his quarters hours ago. The staff were asleep. Even the fountain outside seemed to have gone quiet, as if the whole house was holding its breath along with her.

It was the only way to stay awake when she heard the door open, and he came walking in at three in the morning—

Oh.

Her husband's steps slowed to a halt at the sight of her waiting for him, seated at the foot of the stairs. His handsome face was inscrutable, his golden eyes shuttered. He was still in his suit, but his tie was loosened, and there were shadows under his eyes that she hadn't seen before, and even from here she could see the tension coiled through every line of his body.

And somehow...she knew that he knew.

Maybe he had checked the security footage before coming home. Or Orion had told him. It didn't matter either way. But it was clear that he had known she was waiting for him, and yet...he had still made her wait.

She set down her coffee cup. Her hands were trembling, so she pressed them against her knees.

"What did I do?" she whispered.

He didn't move from the doorway. The distance between them was maybe ten feet, but it felt like an ocean.

"You remember why I married you."

"Y-Yes."

"Then why are you doing what I don't need you to do?"

Her nails dug into her palms. "A-Are you saying...you don't want me to love you?"

"Will you stop if I tell you to?"

"I...I..."