Page 93 of Bloody Tainted Lies

“A wife. Camilla DeLuca.”

“You’ve lost your mind, boy.” He scoffs. “Matteo is going to kill you.”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “And it will be worth it even if he does.”

I close the door behind me and walk back to the apartment, knocking on the door seven times. Camilla waits until I do and then opens the door with a relieved smile on her face, and I decide this is enough for me.

She is all I need.

* * *

The Swan Lake performance is way more complex than I thought it would be. The girls are in purple tulle dresses and the guys are in tights. It’s a bit weird to be watching, but here we are. It feels like the performance will last forever, especially with everyone dancing together and my girl nowhere to be seen. I didn’t even tell her I’d be here, but what kind of husband would I be if I wasn’t?

Her friends took the news much better than I thought, in fact, they’re embracing it now. We’ve gone out a few times since we told them the news, and it’s been much better than the first encounter. No more snarky comments, or at least not that many in comparison.

Camilla’s family doesn’t know yet, but I have a feeling that it will change very soon. We have plans to tell them together in a few days at a dinner she set up for this very reason in a very public place, but maybe, just maybe, my hunch is correct, and I’ll be outed by someone else before we have the chance to tell them. Like my father. I have a feeling I’ll be well and truly fucked if that happens, maybe even killed.

It’s worth it for her, though.

I’d do anything for Camilla.

Camilla finally comes to the stage after a very long thirty minutes. She’s wearing a beautiful short white tulle dress that doesn’t flow down. Instead, it looks like it levitates. It’s stiff, opposite to her movements, which flow seamlessly. Her arms are positioned like wings, and she gracefully moves them up and down as if they’re flapping. Even the crown she’s wearing is shaped like the head of an actual swan.

After a brief moment with her dance partner—who makes my blood boil with jealousy—she disappears and brings out about twenty other girls. After nearly ten more minutes she comes out again and meets her partner on the stage, getting on her tiptoes with her shoes and twirling. The way he grabs her waist, manipulates her body, and touches her makes me want to snap his neck.

It’s just a dance.

They’re dance partners.

That’s it, that’s all.

She’s stillmine.

The way she jumps up in the air, even with his hands around her waist, is entrancing. Her twirling and spinning are also hypnotizing, and she’s not even halfway through the performance. We still have to see her as the black swan.

Her dance partner lifts her up in the air until she’s upside down over his back, one of her legs entirely straight up like she’s doing the splits, and it’s so graceful I don’t understand how she does it. Clearly, I’ve been underestimating ballet this entire time. Even though I’ve seen her practice in the studio, it doesn’t compare to watching her perform. Not even close.

She has a solo and looks like she’s floating the entire time, her arms flowing above her head and her body twirling around the stage. The rest of the girls are lined up on either side of the stage, completely still like statues, and they stay there when she stops and bows to the audience, who all burst into a round of applause.

After a few more minutes, Camilla comes back with a carbon copy of her white dress except in black. Even her crown is black, and she looks even better in this color. Or maybe I think so because she clearly loves it better, considering it’s the only color she wears when she dances. Once again, she gracefully levitates across the stage and returns to her partner, who then helps her spin and twirl.

She’s incredible.

After about ten more minutes, it’s over, and everyone claps for her. I’m in the front row, and her eyes lock on mine like the opposite sides of a magnet. Her gaze feels like it electrocutes me, and her hand goes to her mouth to cover her gasp. She wasn’t expecting me to be here. I think she believes I would forget about it or simply choose not to attend, but I’m here and proving her wrong. I meant what I said, and she matters to me more than anyone else ever has.

No onecompares to her.

The lights shine on her as she gets more applause, including mine, and she bows. Her smile is bright even as tears stream down her pretty face, and she looks at me again before more tears flow.

Before I can move, she’s already disappearing behind the curtain and to the back. I know exactly where she is though, and I’d bet my life that she’s waiting on me. Getting up from my chair, I look around and ensure I don’t step on anyone while keeping the flowers safe. I chose white Dahlias for her since they’re beautiful and I wanted to bring something thoughtful with me. While I know she loves peonies, I didn’t want a reminder of her engagement party and how they were everywhere.

Except when I make it to her backstage, she’s in the corner with someone on top of her against the wall. They’re kissing and when I get closer I can see?—

Leonardo.

Trapping her against the wall with his hand around her neck while she shoves him off. Or at least attempts to. He doesn’t know of my marriage to her, hell, she’s not even wearing her ring. It’s okay, deep breaths. She’s not wearing it because of this performance. Everything needed to match the director’s requirements. It still doesn’t stop me from feeling like my chest and stomach are about to explode from the anger I feel.

I yank Leonardo off her but he doesn’t let go of her neck, dragging her with us. I dig my fingers into the crook of his neck, a pressure point, and he lets go immediately. His fucking dirty ass lips were on hers, and she’s furiously wiping off his germs.

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