Page 89 of Married With Malice

“No.” She stays closed off, her posture rigid. “Believe me, I know how pathetic I sound. And I know that you never promised me love. That wasn’t part of any deal we made. You’re just taking one for the team, like you said. Falling for you was unintentional. And it’s my own problem.”

Coming up with words to suit any situation has always come easy to me. I can shift gears and be different things to different people. I’ve always considered this quality to be a strength.

For the first time, I realize it’s nothing of the kind. The person who means the most to me doesn’t even know who I am. She doesn’t know what to believe. The blame for this is all mine.

Taking one for the team?

That sounds vaguely familiar. It’s something I’ve said before, an offhand conversational remark. But not about her.Neverabout her.

“Annalisa.” I try to go to her, to wrap my arms around her. If I hold her, I’ll be able to fix this, to think of the right words.

“Stop.” She shoves me off and sniffs. “Just leave me alone right now. I mean it, Luca.”

She sniffs again and with a fresh wave of horror, I realize she’s crying. My beautiful, headstrong, captivating wife, who could probably face down a Roman legion and not flinch, is crying.

All because I’ve withheld from her the love she so badly wanted from me.

And I didn’t understand.

In the beginning, I thought I was giving her the space she needed, letting her draw closer in her own time. Then came a world of complications and I lost track of what matters.

A litany of mistakes screams through my head and regret presses on my chest with the weight of an anvil.

From the beginning, I was wrong.

SO. FUCKING. WRONG!!!

On our honeymoon I set out immediately to seduce her. Then I felt arrogantly victorious when I succeeded. What I should have done is beg for the chance to win her trust.

I’ve never earned anything she’s given me. Not a fucking thing.

“Please leave me alone right now,” she says, barely able to speak as her shoulders shudder.

She has no idea how I feel. I’ve never told her.

“Please, Luca,” she begs with another sob. “It’s the kindest thing you can do.”

There’s no reason for her to trust a single word I say. None.

As I rake through my mind in a desperate search to find a way to repair all the damage, Anni crumples with another loud sob and runs into the bathroom to get away. There’s an audible click as the lock is flipped.

I’ve already hurt her far too much. She doesn’t want to cry in front of me. This is her only request and I need to honor it. If I speak now, I risk making the situation even worse.

The blood roars in my head as I stagger back into the sitting room. The sight of my gun lying on the table induces sick loathing. I seize the thing, unload the bullets and shove it into a drawer for now. The weight of it on my hip has become a millstone dragging me into the murky depths of hell.

I’m not even paying attention to where I’m going and I don’t know how long I’ve wandered by the time I land in the lobby. The adjoining lounge is empty and the fireplace crackles with no one in the room to enjoy it. The man behind the check-in desk is preoccupied as I drift through the scene like a ghost.

Our table at the restaurant has already been cleared. I wouldn’t want to sit there anyway. I drop down on a stool at the bar and order the house specialty beer.

I’m the only one occupying a seat at the long row of barstools and a full glass of richly colored brew is placed under my nose in no time. Patting my pocket, I realize I left my phone up in the room.

I’m only faintly aware that behind me, other people continue to have a normal evening. With my mind in turmoil, their voices sound muffled and dim. Swallowing the full glass of beer within two minutes does nothing for my mood so I bark out an order for another.

When I hear the stool beside me creak under some new weight, I recoil on instinct.

The man with all the creative ink, the third member of the brotherhood, tips his hand with an amused wave. His blue eyes are bright with good humor. There are plenty of other empty seats for him to choose from and I don’t know why he decided on the one beside mine. I’d rather not collect any more bad karma by being unfriendly so I offer him a faint nod.

He takes this as an opening. “We haven’t officially met.” He extends a hand. Even his wrist is covered with ink. “Cord Gentry.”

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