Page 34 of Twins for the Mafia Heir

I wait, expecting more input, but they both fall silent. “Good to know, I suppose. Anything else you two are craving?”

They exchange a glance and shake their heads unhelpfully.

“Well then,” I say, glancing down at the menu in front of me. My eyes find my usual order quickly. “Here—this one has artichokes, spinach, garlic, mozzarella…”

Raleigh’s nose wrinkles. “Artichokes?! On a pizza? That’s… really how you do it here?”

“It’s not strictly British, no.” I say dryly. “Perhaps if you weren’t raised under a rock, you’d have heard of it before today.”

Raleigh’s face drains of what little color it has, her breath visibly catching in her chest.

Oh. I think I’ve gravely insulted her. It isn’t her fault, after all, how the men of her family chose to raise or neglect her. I open my mouth to apologize, but Sidony pipes up,

“Oh, daddy says that’s mum’s favorite flavor! We have that one every year on mum’s birthday. It’s good! Can we get that one, daddy?”

“Of course, dove,” I say, but my voice feels far away.

My mind slips back four years. Across from me, it isn’t Raleigh but Madeleine, her hand resting on her belly, visibly in the third trimester. Pizza was her craving, one I was happy to indulge, and she’d find ways to make each meal memorable. I feel her foot brush against my ankle under the table, her eyes innocently fixed on her slice, hiding her mischief behind a playful smirk.

“You’re so stubborn, Achilles! I’m telling you, Sidony is a beautiful girl’s name. Boy or girl, it works perfectly.”

The memory fades, and I find Raleigh watching me, her grey eyes searching my face with gentle concern. I clear my throat, forcing myself to mask the ache with a neutral expression.

“I… guess I wouldn’t mind experimenting,” she says, to Sidony more than to me. “Let’s order that one.”

I nod and wave the waiter over. But when the pizza arrives, the smell hits me like a punch to the chest. I take a bite, but it tastes like ash, my appetite lost somewhere in the past.

After hours of shopping and a large, filling meal, Sidony is practically walking in her sleep. I carry her to the curb where our limo waits, and buckle my seatbelt over both of us for the ride back to Wesley Hall. Raleigh settles on the seat across from me. She’s trying to meet my eyes, but I don’t entertain her, and we travel the entire way back to the estate in silence.

I take my time putting Sidony to bed, and Raleigh has the intuition not to try and insert herself into this ceremony. I coax my daughter to wakefulness just enough that she can brush her teeth on her own, then have to dress her for bed and lay her in the midst of her blankets. I braid her hair, hum her bedtime song, and kiss her forehead three times. It calms me, but only a little.

It comes back to haunt me, every now and then, that Sidony remembers almost nothing about her mother. We’ve been to that pizza parlor every year for Madeleine’s birthday, but does Sidony actually care about the occasion, or just that the pizza we eat tastes good? I have no right to be upset with her even if that is the case. I’m the one trapped in a grief that’s three years old, and I shouldn’t wish that on my little girl. But does that meanI should be grateful she doesn’t properly remember the woman she wouldn’t exist without?

I tuck Sidony’s elephant plush under her arm… and hesitate.

On bad nights like these, I would probably sleep in here with Sidony, lulled to sleep by the rhythm of her steady breathing against my chest. I can rest if I have solid proof that even though Madeleine is gone, this cherished piece of her still lives.

But I can’t wallow in my private grief when I have a wife waiting in the other room.

I’m not surprised to find Raleigh sitting on the edge of my bed, clearly waiting to say something to me. I ignore her, going to my closet to undress for the night. She doesn’t pay my hint any mind, and follows.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks from behind me, as I unbutton my suit jacket and pull it off. “About… ah, about your-”

“That is none of your business,” I say, and it feels like my throat closes around the words even though I’m loosening my tie.

“Achilles, I-”

I turn on her, raising a finger to signal for her to be quiet. “I have no need or desire to confide in you about anything,” I snap. “I gave you what information you needed about Sidony’s mother so you could better understandher, not me. I’m not searching for companionship in you. I’m not even searching for friendship. I want nothing,nothingat all from you, do you understand?”

Raleigh blinks fast. Holding back tears? No, I won’t let myself feel guilty for that. This is something she needs to hear, and it’s something I was foolish enough to forget for a few brief moments today.

“This marriage exists purely as a legality, Raleigh,” I tell her. “It is not based on love. It never will be. Banish any absurd ideas you have about the two of us bonding through a shared miserable experience. If we’relucky, we’ll be able to go the restof our lives tolerating each others’ presence. But if you keep trying to step where I don’t want you to be, that won’t happen. I married you for your fucking money, Raleigh. Never forget that.”

Raleigh’s hands ball into fists. She’s fighting hard against tears now, her grey eyes sparkling. She’s bracing her whole body to hide the way she’s trembling. It doesn’t work… and that makes me want to soften her up like I did last night.

“Why?” she whispers.

I blink, remembering myself. “What?”

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