Page 13 of House of Lies

I wouldn’t exactly consider this a victory. As she leaves me alone in the kitchen, her plate untouched, my knuckles burn each time I clench my fists or move my fingers. Rage spreads within me like wildfire.

There’s only one way to untangle this mess, but it’s not an option.

CHAPTER 7

Caelia

“Stop telling me you’re okay,” my sister pleads. “Anna, come and take care of the children!”

Anna rushes into the room, wearing an apologetic expression. I want to suggest to my sister that she give her employees some time off and spend more time with the children, but I decide to keep my thoughts to myself. I’m not here to judge how she raises my two nieces. I’m not here to contemplate how I would raise my children if I ever had any. Before hell freezes over, that is.

“But I am.” I shrug as Anna takes Maria and Josephine from Cosima, who looks visibly exhausted. You might not notice if you don’t know her as well as I do, but I see it in the wrinkles around her eyes, the corners of her mouth, and how she takes longer to respond to things as if she’s carefully weighing her words.

“So, Mattia actually said he wants to make your marriage work?” Cosima’s nose wrinkles in confusion, mirroring my feelings. “What do you think about it?”

I let out a laugh, taking a sip of my coffee. “I’m confused and feel like I have been transported into an alternate universe. I don’t know, Cosima,” I sigh. “It’s not that simple.”

“No, I know it’s not. I mean, I can only imagine.”

Cosima doesn’t love her husband, but at least he’s not an abusive bastard. He treats her respectfully, and while they argue occasionally, he has never touched her. He loves their children and provides her with everything she desires. She doesn’t harbor thoughts of murdering her husband.

“I don’t want to make it work.”

“What other choice do you have?”

“I’m aware my options are limited. I was just saying.”

“You’re only making it harder for yourself.”

As if Mattia has done nothing but make my life easier. Granted, he has recently fulfilled his promises to me without asking for anything in return. I have tried to find a compromise. I join him for breakfast or dinner, although never both. I’m making an effort. But it’s difficult to contain all the pain and rage inside. It’s challenging to look at him as if I don’t want to strangle him as if he hasn’t stripped me of everything I once was. My phone rings, interrupting our conversation. Besides my sister, Mattia is the only person with my number. I let the call go to voicemail, much to Cosima’s disapproving look.

Talking to him still doesn’t feel comfortable. We eat in silence. Mattia tries to start some conversation now and then while I sit there, wishing I was anywhere else.

I expect him to call again, but I receive a text message.

The harsh truth is that I still need him. I depend on him. My life depends on him.

Would you like to go out for dinner tonight?

“He’s asking me out for dinner.” I laugh, resisting the urge to throw my phone across the room.

Cosima looks unsure of what to say. I know we have to start somewhere, but I’m not ready to completely burn the bridge between us. Only pain and heartache are waiting for me at the end of that road. I decide not to reply at all. My husband is my worst enemy, and the thought of him being inside me again against my will makes me want to throw up.

I spend a few more hours with my sister, afraid that Mattia might change his mind and that I will be banned from seeing her again. But I don’t want to talk about him anymore. Instead, we gossip. Domenico has accompanied me to her house and now takes me back to a place that never truly feels like home. I’m surprised that Mattia allowed me to spend some time alone with Cosima without assigning Domenico to watch my every move or eavesdrop on our conversation. I haven’t had a shred of privacy since marrying him.

The mansion is eerily silent. I can’t recall what led me to the master suite, but now I stand frozen in the doorway. Mattia is washing blood off his hands in the bathroom sink. I focus on his reflection in the mirror. There’s blood trickling down his abdomen from a deep cut just below his clavicle, and he appears ... haunted. As soon as he notices me, he hurriedly grabs his discarded shirt and begins buttoning it, attempting to conceal the bloodstains. The white fabric quickly soaks up the red fluid. Before I can stop myself, I retrieve a clean towel from the cabinet and move closer to him, feeling the heat radiating from his body. I turn on the hot water, run the towel under it, and wring it out.

“What happened?”

Behind his icy stare lies a mountain of vulnerability that he would rather die than reveal. The proximity between us doesn’t feel as uncomfortable as usual, even though my breathing remains shallow and constricted. Until now, I’ve only seen lifelessness in his eyes, usually accompanied by his murderous intentions. But tonight is different. Taking a deep breath, I place my hand on his elbow, waiting for him to turn around so I can assess the wound. There are a million other things I’d rather be doing right now, but I’ve had time to think.

While Cosima was busy gossiping about our cousins and distant relatives I barely remember, I devised a plan. I know my next steps. It’s a plan that would have never worked before, but circumstances have changed. He was never willing to compromise.

“Nothing,” he lies.

“May I?” I ask, my fingers hovering over the buttons of his shirt. “It’s ironic how I’ve never seen you naked,” my voice quivers.

“You’ve never seen me naked before?” He furrows his brows.

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