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He's usually very protective around any man who's not related to me by blood.
"Congratulations on your marriage."
My stomach cramps at Viktor's deceptively smooth voice. No one looking at him now would ever guess that he had accused my husband of murder just moments ago.
"Grazie."
Lorenzo's tone is equally bland as he shakes hands with Giancarlo's best friend.
Viktor nods at me before moving away to speak to the rest of my famiglia. We both sit down, and I wait for him to ask about Viktor.
But he doesn't.
And I don't get it.
Am I expecting too much from my husband?
I really believed he'd only have to take one look at me, and he'd know something is seriously wrong.
But he doesn't.
And stupid or not—-
Unfair or not—-
His unawareness breaks my heart, and things just keep getting worse when the evening comes to an end.
It's only the two of us in the car now, but he still doesn't ask me about Viktor.
Am I being unreasonable, God?
I slowly turn my gaze to my husband.
I know he knows I'm looking at him.
But he refuses to look at me.
And I don't get it.
It's as if I'm looking at a stranger, and there's not a single trace left of the man I once found so unbearably sweet and protective.
It's as if...
No, oh no.
I no longer matter all of a sudden.
Oh God.
And that's when I finally get it.
Lorenzo Anghileri is not the Beast of New York for nothing.
He should've known something was wrong with me the moment I came back to his side.
He should've known.
But he didn't.
