Page 10 of Veiled Vows

For a moment, I am tempted to soften, to give in to his plea. But then I remember the lies, the manipulation, and I steel myself.

"My day was fine," I say nonchalantly. "I worked, as usual. And no, I haven't finished the series. I have more important things to do."

He sighs, looking down at his plate. "I know I’ve made mistakes. I’m trying to make amends."

"Amends? By cooking dinner and bringing me flowers?" I shake my head. "It’s pathetic."

He visibly swallows. "I’m just trying to show you that I care."

"Care?" I scoff. “If you truly cared, you wouldn't have lied to me from the very beginning.”

"I know," he says quietly. "I apologize."

"It isn’t enough," I say.

I walk away, but before I leave the room, I turn back to him, not able to stop myself from throwing a dig. "For someone who claims not to love me, you're certainly acting like you do,"

I storm to the guest bedroom, already at my wits end. I’m not going to bring up my plans to go to the club tonight. I’ll sneak out. The last thing I want is any of the guards following me, wreaking havoc at his order.

When I finish getting ready, I take my wedding ring off my finger. I can’t stand to look at it anymore. I don’t want any reminders of him tonight.

Chapter 6

Salvatore

It's been over a month of this hell. She doesn’t talk to me anymore, doesn’t touch me, doesn’t even fucking look at me. She used to treat me like I’m her world, now, it’s like I am nothing. A month of her giving me the cold shoulder, watching her flourish without me, has made me thirsty for her, like a man parched in a desert.

I don’t understand myself. I lied to myself, claiming that she didn’t matter, that she was just part of the plan, a piece on the chessboard. But now, her indifference is driving me insane. I failed at pretending she’s nothing to me, failed fucking miserably.

I see her eyes every time I close mine. Those eyes, filled with anger and hurt. She told me that if I didn’t love her, I wouldn’t be acting this way. She’s fucking right. I want to ram my head against the wall until all thoughts of her leave me.

I pace in my office, feeling like I’m suffocating. I take a sip of whiskey, but it doesn't make a difference. I hurl the glass against the wall, it breaks apart. I don’t give a shit.

Everything I did to try to win her back - dinners, flowers, apologies – didn’t make the slightest bit of a difference. She dismisses it as if it’s nothing, as if I’m nothing.

I’m Salvatore Agosti. I don’t lose. I don’t beg. But I’m desperate for her. I want to see that warmth in her eyes again. I want to feel like I matter to her. I’m terrified of losing her. Terrified of what I’m becoming.

I feel a fierce anger rising within me, both towards myself and towards her, for causing me to experience emotions I never intended to feel.

I need to see her. I need to make her understand. Maybe if I can hold her, press her tight against my body, I can feel normal again. Is this what she felt? Is this the same desperation, the same panic that drove her to lash out when she found out about the contract?

I accused her of throwing a temper tantrum, of overreacting. But now, I’m the one losing control. I’m the one desperate and frantic. I let her feel this way. I made her feel this way. And now, I’m getting a dose of my own fucking medicine.

I rush to the guest bedroom, wanting to drag her back to our bed, to do whatever it takes to make this bullshit stop. I barge in, my heart pounding.

But she isn’t there.

Panic grips me as I go ballistic, tearing through the mansion, checking every room, every corner. “Serena!” I shout. Where the hell is she?

I storm through the hallways like a mad man. She can’t just disappear. Not from me. I check every single room, but she isn’t there.

I grab my phone and dial Marco’s number. The phone rings only once, and he immediately picks up. “Yes, sir?”

“Did you see her leave?” I demand.

There’s a pause on the other end. “No, sir. I didn’t see her leave.”

I fume. “What do you mean you didn’t see her leave? Your job is to watch her!” I roar.

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