Page 137 of Phantom Mine

“Does he feel the same?” It’s Dagny’s turn to scoff. “If that man could make it so she never looked at anything or anyone except him again, he would.”

That’s Matteo.

Or thatwasMatteo, ten minutes ago before I ripped the veil off my real life.

I hum and lean my head back against the door, my gaze trailing to the bandage wrapped around Dagny’s palm.

She follows my eyeline. “The bandage is more dramatic than the actual wound,” she assures me. “I accidentally burned myself while steaming a wedding dress earlier today. The skin is red and swollen so I didn’t want to have it exposed.” She sighs, staring down at her wrapped hand. “It’s definitely going to leave a scar though.”

Something about her words niggle, but I’m not quite surewhy. “I hope it doesn’t hurt too much.”

“I can barely feel it. Plus, I was shot a few months ago so this is a walk in the park compared to that.”

“You wereshot?” I echo, aghast. “What criminal did that to you?”

“The same criminal who’s obsessed with my best friend.”

I gape at her, stunned speechless. “Wow…I’m surprised you’re so chill about it.”

“Oh, he’s a psychopath. Forsure.” Dagny fiddles with a thread on her bandage. She looks up at me. “But part of me wants someone to love me that much one day, you know?”

You and me both, Dagny.

She must see my response written all over my face because she winks and bumps her shoulder into mine.

“So, is your Made man coming after you or not?” She gives me a playful smile. “Because I assume you kind of wanted him to, didn’t you?”

Dagny’s right.

I did want Matteo to come after me. I wanted him to care. To unleash his anger and his betrayal, to give me a chance to explain, even if I knew he would never accept my excuses.

But he doesn’t.

The two of us sit with our backs against that door for another half hour, but Matteo never shows.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Valentina

Slumped on my couch, I sit staring off into the distance like I have been for the better part of the past fourteen hours.

Fourteen hours of torturing myself with every scenario of why I haven’t heard from Matteo yet.

I’d half expected, or maybe hoped, that I’d find him waiting for me on my doorstep when I came home last night, but he wasn’t on my stoop and he wasn’t inside my apartment either.

There’ve been no calls or texts.

No communication whatsoever.

No sight of him.

With every passing hour, the horrifying thought that he might not actually come here and end it with me in person, that he might simply disappear from my life and for good this time, is becoming more of a reality.

Cruel.

It would be cruel, but then again, I’ve been cruel to him.

Maybe he’s decided that this kind of treatment is exactly what I deserve. I can’t find it in me to disagree even as I can’t bear to think about it.

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