Page 73 of Sinful Bride

"I wanted to."

"Why?"

I hesitate. I don’t know what to say that won’t make me sound like an idiot. I could say that I’m trying to meet her halfway, or that I want to show her that I care. That I don't know how else to fix what's broken between us. But her world doesn’t reward weakness, and I worry that’s what she’ll see that as.

But when I tried strength, that broke things even more. I feel completely at a loss as to how to court a woman like her. She might as well be from another planet, or a goddess of some kind, for how much I know about how to make her happy.

"Because you deserve it," I say instead.

She looks at me for a long moment, something shifting in her expression. Then she looks away, taking another sip of wine.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur of courses I can't pronounce and flavors I can't identify. Elena explains each dish when it arrives patiently. She's not condescending about it, just... helpful. Like she understands that I'm out of my depth and she's trying to make it easier. I appreciate it, even if it makes me feel like a child being taught table manners.

By the time we finish, I'm full and exhausted and ready to go home. But we still have the opera.

The Lyric Opera House is so grand it makes Alinea look understated. The building is decorated in gold, with soaring ceilings and crystal chandeliers. People mill about in the lobby, dressed in their finest tuxedos and gowns, dripping in diamonds and pearls. Everyone looks like they belong here.

Everyone except me.

Elena takes my arm as we enter, of her own volition. She seems to be enjoying herself, and I see her smile when she sees that our seats are in a private box on the second tier. The view is perfect; we can see the entire stage, the orchestra pit, and the audience below. Elena settles into her seat with ease, probably from years of attending events like this. I sit beside her and try not to look as uncomfortable as I feel.

The lights dim. The orchestra begins to play. The curtain rises.

I have no idea what's happening.

The singing is beautiful; I can appreciate that much. The voices are powerful and emotional, filling the entire theater. But the story is in Italian, and even with the subtitles projected above the stage, I'm struggling to follow along. Something about a courtesan and a man who loves her. Tragedy and sacrifice and death. The usual opera fare, I guess.

I glance at Elena. She's watching the stage, her expression soft. She's fully invested, deep in the emotion of what’s happening in front of her. She’s totally immersed, and I'm just... here. Trying to keep up.

Halfway through the first act, I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I ignore it. This night is for Elena. Whatever business is calling can wait.

But it buzzes again. And again. Elena glances at me, her expression questioning.

"Sorry," I whisper. "I'll turn it off."

I pull out my phone to silence it, but the name on the screen makes my stomach drop. Cormac.

He knows I’m out with Elena tonight, and he wouldn't call unless it was urgent. He wouldn't interrupt unless something was wrong.

Surely it’s not that serious. I don’t want to ruin the evening, and Cormac has been with Lachlan for years before he worked for me. He can handle whatever it is. I silence the phone and slip it back into my pocket, and try to focus on the stage and the music and Elena beside me.

But my mind is elsewhere now, on whatever crisis is waiting for me and the organization I'm supposed to be leading. On all the ways I'm failing. I can’t balance this and a marriage. I can’t even get through one date with my wife without something coming up. Hell, I was pulled away from my fucking wedding reception.

The first act ends, and the lights come up. People begin filing out for intermission. "Do you want to get a drink?" Elena asks.

"Sure." We make our way to the lobby, where champagne is being served. Elena takes a glass, and I do the same, even though I'd rather have whiskey. My phone buzzes again.

"You should answer it," Elena says quietly.

"It can wait."

"Declan." Her voice is firm. "If it's important, you should answer it."

I pull out my phone. Three missed calls from Cormac, two from Finn, and a text from Ronan: Call me. Now.

My chest tightens. "I need to make a call."

Elena nods. "I'll wait here."