Page 23 of Love Him Like Water

“Whatever you want to do, Mrs. Lombardi,” he said with a shrug.

“Can I leave?” I asked.

To that, his brows scrunched.

“You’re not a prisoner here.”

Okay.

Well, it was something that needed to be asked, though, right?

I remember when my cousin Isabella had agreed to a forced marriage with the Esposito mob boss, he had rules about her not being able to go places.

But maybe that was more about safety having to do with his work, or the neighborhood he lived in.

I wasn’t unfamiliar with Brooklyn, despite it being so far from home. I understood the areas that I shouldn’t roam, and the ones that were the safest.

I mean, of course I did.

Sneaking off to visit my favorite bookstore was how I first laid eyes on Renzo Lombardi. How I started to give my silly, girlish heart away to him, little by little each time I visited.

I shook off the memories, realizing how fanciful they’d been, how I’d created a fairytale out of my own wishes.

And now I was living a reality that was nothing like I’d dreamed.

“Do I have to clear my schedule with anyone?” I asked.

“Not that I know of,” Elian said, but there was a strange edge to his voice, like it bothered him that he couldn’t give me a straight answer.

Because his boss had never talked about me.

About what was to be done about me.

Because Renzo Lombardi never thought of me at all.

My hand went to my stomach where a pang threatened to take my breath away.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” I lied, letting my hand fall away. “Just… hungry,” I said, even though the last thing on my mind was food, despite not having eaten in almost a full day at this point. All I’d managed the day of my wedding were a few dry crackers to ease the sloshing sensation in my stomach.

I started toward the fridge, only to have Elian clear his throat.

“There’s nothing in there,” he said even as I pulled open the door to see he was right. Save for an impressive collection of condiments and an array of different drinks, there was nothing in there of note. “Renzo orders in when he’s home,” Elian explained.

“Oh,” I said, nodding. “Okay.”

“Can I pick something up for you?” he asked.

“I… no. I’m alright.”

“You said you were hungry,” he reminded me. And, damn him for being one of those guys who wouldn’t just let things drop.

“I think I’ll just have some coffee,” I said, going toward the pot, though not sure how I was going to choke it down without any syrup, or even cream, since there was none in the fridge.

Elian’s brows scrunched, watching me with eyes I worried might see too much.

In the end, though, I was his boss’s wife. And I guess he felt he had to respect whatever I said, even if he didn’t believe me, or didn’t agree with me.

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