Page 111 of My Husband’s New Fiancée

She checks her mirrors with mechanical precision, changes lanes twice, takes two unnecessary detours, then suddenly slows down.

Surveillance detection.

She’s a professional.

After several minutes, we leave Paris behind.

Buildings give way to darker roads.

Finally, she stops in front of a gated property.

An isolated estate.

The gates slowly swing open.

29. Just Sleeping

Valeria

The moment Dante steps through the door, the air seems to thin in the room. Before I can even say a word, he drops his duffel bag—the dull thud of leather hitting the hardwood floor makes me flinch—and pulls me into his arms.

His embrace is abrupt, heavy with everything left unsaid.

My mind screams that he’s moving too fast, that there are still too many ghosts between us, but my traitorous body remembers him—his warmth, the strength of his arms.

I should push him away, but I just stand there, my hands hovering uselessly at my sides, unable to decide what to do.

Stephen and Mara talk quietly among themselves, giving us a semblance of privacy.

When he finally lets me go, I immediately fold my arms across my chest, as if trying to hold on to his warmth.

To break the awkward silence, his gaze sweeps across our improvised “headquarters.” He studies every corner of the room, from the open kitchen to the leather couch, as though he’s searching for a security flaw.

Or maybe a way to reclaim my space.

“I packed enough clothes for a few days,” he says, his voice still a little rough.

He picks up his bag. I motion for him to follow me upstairs. My legs feel unsteady. I stop in front of one of the doors.

“This is it.”

Dante steps into the small bedroom. He takes in the bed, the window overlooking the street.

“It’s perfect, thank you. What about you? Where are you sleeping?”

The question lingers in the air, carrying an implication I refuse to examine too closely. Without a word, I point to the room on the right.

His gaze lingers in that direction for a moment before returning to me, intense and unreadable.

He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something more.

Then he thinks better of it.

“How about we meet up with the others after your shower?” he suggests.

I settle for a nod before slipping into my room, my heart beating far too fast.

Was I right to let him back into my life so quickly?