Page 56 of Ruthless Claim

Teresa catches Valentina’s eye from across the table and holds it for one moment, something moving between them that I don’t have a word for.

Then Teresa looks down at her plate and she’s almost smiling.

Under the table, Valentina’s hand briefly finds mine on her knee.

Then it’s gone and she’s back in conversation like nothing happened.

I’m left sitting there with the shape of her hand burning a hole in my flesh.

The drive home is quiet.

She’s turned toward the window watching the city go by, and there’s something in her expression that’s quieter and more private than I usually see from her.

“Emma’s absence was really felt tonight,” I say, after a while.

She turns from the window, the moonlight shining on her hair. “It’s the first thing I noticed when she opened the door.” A pause. “There was an interesting gap in the photographs on the side table.”

“Yeah.”

“And the chair by the window.”

I incline my head.

She looks at me for a moment. “Does Connor know how much it shows?”

I shrug. “Connor knows everything. He just makes it look like he doesn’t.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “He does though,” she says quietly. “Not much. But enough.”

I don’t say anything.

We get back to the apartment.

I’m shrugging off my jacket when she turns around and looks at me with a steely expression.

“He introduced Walsh’s son tonight,” she says lightly as she undoes her wrap and puts it in the closet. “He stood up in front of that whole table and introduced a twenty-five-year-old as the one he’s brought in to learn how the operations work.” She looks at me, dark brow arched. “You’ve been running those operations for fifteen years. He didn’t mention it. He barely looked at you across that table. And when he did, it was the way he looks at his driver.” She crosses her arms. “I want to know if you think that’s normal or if you’ve just decided it’s how things are.”

“It’s how things are,” I say because it’s the truth. No amount of complaining or bitching will change it.

She sighs in frustration. “That’s not what I asked.”

I look at her. She looks back at me and she looks…furious on my behalf, which is not something I know how to handle. I’m used to her being furious at me. That I know how to manage. This is brand new territory.

“My father treated Leo like a partner,” she tells me. “Years before Leo took over. He asked him things. Disagreed with him in public. He brought him in on the decisions that mattered.”

Her voice drops. “What you do for Connor—what you’ve been doing for twenty plus years—a man who respected what you were to him would have put you at that table as the next thing, not as the help he brought along.”

She shakes her head. “And I watched you sit there tonight and say nothing. I need you to tell me whether you’re okay with that.”

A ripple of irritation courses through me. Why can’t my wife leave things alone? Sure, Connor doesn’t treat me like his heir, but I’ve accepted that this is the way Connor is.

“Valentina,” I start to say, but she cuts me off.

“Because I’m not.”

I blink at her.

“I’m not okay with it,” she continues, folding her arms across her chest. “And if you’re not either, you should stop acting like you are.”