Page 79 of Vows of Blood

She looks through me like I’m an acquaintance she doesn’t particularly care for rather than the man she’s about to marry.

I knew she’d be angry about the phone numbers, but I did it anyway. My wife is not going to be fielding calls from men I don’t know or trust. It’s for her safety and theirs. Sienna has yet to grasp how much her life is about to change.

"Good morning," I say politely, testing the waters.

She doesn't respond, just pads past me toward the refrigerator. The shirt rides up as she reaches for a bottle of water on the top shelf, revealing a flash of bright red underneath, and my fingers grip the edge of the counter, needing to hold on, or I’ll cross the room and grab her instead.

“Good morning,” I repeat, louder this time, and she turns, a fake smile plastered on her pretty face.

“Oh, you’re back.” She gives me a withering look. “I didn’t think you came home last night after whatever, or whoever, you were doing.”

Holding my tongue, I choose to ignore her sassy attitude, instead, focusing on how she called my house home, and that she appears to have been tracking my movements.

“That’s my shirt.”

"I assumed you wouldn't mind," she says flatly, as she twists off the cap.

"I don't."

What I do mind is that she's been avoiding me since yesterday's confrontation and is barely speaking to me now. Too agitated to sleep, I worked instead, and it seems my absence hasn’t gone unnoticed.

"Carmella told you the wedding planner is coming later? And you can make whatever changes you want within reason," I say, attempting to keep the conversation going, hoping the idea of putting her stamp on the wedding would lighten her mood.

It does not.

"She did. Since you were apparently too busy to tell me yourself.”

Not taking the bait, I continue undeterred.

“If the Langham doesn’t appeal to you, and in order to keep security airtight, we can have the wedding here instead. Marquees in the garden.”

She hesitates, a flicker of excitement shining through, then simply nods before taking a long sip of water. Her throat works as she swallows then licks the lingering moisture off her full lips.

“That might work,” she shrugs, non-chalant, but I can tell she likes the idea. She meets my eyes then, hand on her hip, the fire from last night still there, but maybe a little dimmer. Or not. “I think I’ll go swimming."

The heated swimming pool is a luxury I rarely use. Nobody here does. I work all day and night with little time for lounging. The spare time I do have is spent in the gym. The pool is more like landscaping to me, part of the decor.

"Tony told me the pool is heated," she states. "And Carmella had some bathing suits in the stuff she bought me."

I stare at the piles of work in front of me and then at her again. "Fine. I've got more work to do, but…"

Only when she ignores me completely, does it occur to me that she’s not asking me to join her.

“That’s okay. You don’t need to tell me what you’re doing or where you’re going, apparently.” She's already turning away, dismissing me, and frustration eats away at me, fraying my already thin patience.

I'm not accustomed to wanting someone's attention this badly or being denied it.

"Sienna."

She pauses at the doorway, not quite looking at me.

"You can’t lead a normal life. You have to understand..."

"No." The word is flat. Final. "I don't."

And then she's gone, the soft sound of her footsteps fading down the hallway, followed by the low whoosh of the sliding doors opening and closing. She passes the window, hair piled high on her head, sunglasses perched on her nose, and a book in hand, heading out to where the lounge chairs are.

After a minute, ripples spread across the water suggesting someone got in, but I can’t see her. And it’s bugging me.