Page 24 of Her Overprotective Fiance

Grrrr.

"No."

"Oh, please. You've good as admitted it already, so just spit it out."

She crosses her arms over her chest while speaking, and when she raises a brow at me, it'sthatlook on her face again, and I'm done for.

Shit.

Every time she slips back into her old-Angel-of-Death-mode, it feels just like old times. She's Mr. Miyagi once more to my Julie, and even though she's the one on the hospital bed, it suddenly feels like I'm the patient between the two of us as the words come tumbling out.

"I just don't get him. It's almost been three years," I mutter, "but nothing's changed."

The other woman frowns. "That can't be true. They've made it clear you're not a burden. They've already shown you—-"

"I getthat," I interrupt impatiently, "but I don't gethim.I don't understand what he's thinking. Or what he wants."

Maryse looks at me blankly. "You've lost me."

"He makes sure we're seated next to each other during mealtimes."

"And?"

My lip curls. "And that's it, exactly. Those are the only times we talk. It's like I don't exist for him outside the fucking dining room."

"And that matters to you?"

"I know what you're thinking," I say with a scowl, "and it's not that."

"Are you sure?"

"Idon'thave a fucking crush on him."

"Then why do you care if he doesn't talk to you—-"

"Because I want to start helping him now," I burst out. "I just want him to really talk to me so I can stop feeling useless and start feeling useful. Because otherwise..."

Fear and shame might still get the better of me one day, and my stupid pride will end up forcing me to run away.

And I don't want that.

But I'm scared if nothing still changes then—-

"Don't cry."

It'sthattone again, and it's exactly what I need to get a grip on myself.

"Tears have to be earned, Sarica."

I wonder if Maryse realizes how her face absolutely changes when she's usingthattone. It's fascinating, albeit in a terrifying way, like seeing human skin harden into stone.

"So don't waste them on situations where only your lack of knowledge and experience are completely to blame."

I think she's just called me 'stupid' and 'wet behind the ears' in one breath, but...whatever.

"He's thirty-four, and you're still days away from turning eighteen. More importantly, this is Giancarlo Marchetti we're talking about. Our so-called prince among thieves. Why do you think he's so careful not to be alone with you?"

The moment she spells it out like that, the answer hits me, clear as day.

---