Page 24 of Vicious Redemption

“How are you always so quiet?” I ask incredulously, giving a breathy laugh to ease the tension. “One of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

“I’ll endeavor to make my presence better known,” he says, seeming to find my joke unamusing.

“No, no. It’s fine,” I assure him.

“Are you going somewhere?” he asks pointedly, his eyebrow raising in silent accusation.

“No, I…” Heat colors my cheeks as his mistrust hits home. “Sorry. I was just looking for you. I hoped you might tell me when my husband will be home.”

“He’s already here, signora,” he says frankly, and the statement makes my stomach drop.

Does that mean Leo’s avoiding me? It’s nearly nine o’clock. He’s already missed dinner. Perhaps he did so intentionally so he wouldn’t have to face me. Tears sting the back of my eyes at the thought of him choosing to stay in a guest room rather than talk to me. “Oh. I see. Thank you, Luigi,” I breathe, turning back toward our room to hide my pain.

“I believe he’s in his office, signora,” he states, stopping my retreat. “If you wish to speak with him…” he adds.

I quickly turn to face the butler and think I catch the slightest glimmer of compassion in his eyes. “Thank you,” I say more emphatically this time. I give his forearm a quick squeeze before brushing past him, my heady relief wiping away my composure.

It’s pathetic, really, how desperately I need things between me and Leo to be okay. Not so long ago, I wouldn’t have cared what he thought of me. I’d planned on suffering in silence until the day I could be free of him—if that day ever came. Now, I just wish we could go back to the fleeting happiness we’d found.

Rounding the corner to the hall with his office, I take a deep, fortifying breath. The thought of approaching him after the way we left things in the car makes my heart beat faster. I know I need to be the one to start this conversation, and yet it’s incredibly nerve-racking.

I pause in front of his office door, trying to collect myself and my thoughts. I can hear low voices through the solid wood, which only intensifies my anxiety. I’ll be interrupting something. Perhaps I should come back later.

But I’m not sure I’ll have the nerve to try again.

Raising my hand, I rap my knuckles against the door before I can talk myself out of it.

“Come in,” Leo commands, his deep baritone distinct.

Biting my lip, I obey, turning the handle and pushing the door open.

Sharp hazel eyes find mine as Leo watches me from behind his desk. He looks powerful and dangerous, a king without mercy. And at the same time, he’s devastatingly handsome. The dark curls that fall across his forehead, his proud lips surrounded by a five-o’clock shadow that’s more prominent now than I’m used to.

Despite the chaos around us, Leo looks as striking as ever.

Two of his men who were working security at the ball stand before him. Both are tall and muscular, and they turn to look at me, stepping aside as I dare to cross the threshold. I don’t know what they might know about me. But they were there when I stopped Leo from killing my cousin. And now they both watch me with curious eyes, their opinions inscrutable.

“We’ll finish discussing this in the morning,” Leo says curtly, drawing their eyes back to him.

He excuses them with a jerk of his chin. And they respond immediately. Both men give a slight nod of respect, first to their boss and then to me, before they slip silently from the room. The door clicks softly closed behind them as Leo turns his eyes to me once again.

It’s a small gesture, sending his men away rather than making me wait. But putting my concerns before whatever their meeting was about means a lot to me. It makes me feel like I made the right decision to seek him out.

And at the same time, it makes my stomach tremble to be alone with him.

His gaze is guarded as he studies me, wordlessly questioning what could be so important that I feel the need to interrupt his work.

I know I need to start the conversation. But now that we’re in the same room once again, I’m not sure I can face him. I don’t know that I can say what needs to be said. My nerves are so intense, I’m struggling to find the words I chose just moments ago.

What if I make things worse?

That seems to be all I’ve done since the charity ball.

My lips part, but I falter, my eyes dropping to the floor as heat rushes to my face.

I can’t do it. I seem to have completely lost my voice.

13

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