Page 29 of Of Lies and Shadows

Something sharp flutters in my chest, and before I can stop myself, I blurt, “Since you’re here… I wanted to ask if you might want to do another pizza night. With the kids.”

His brow lifts, and it feels like a punch to my gut.

The silence stretches, heavy and filled with tension. I’m still plastered against his body, and I know I should take a step back. But I don’t. And, maddeningly, neither does he.

Instead, he leans forward, almost wrapping himself around me and nudges the door shut behind him with the heel of his shoe. The soft click echoes like a gunshot in the quiet room.

I’m dead.

“No,” he says.

My heart sinks.

I nod once, already retreating inside my head, mentally scrambling for another excuse to save face until he adds, a little quieter and rougher, “Actually… I want to propose something else.”

I blink.

“I have a connection. They’re running a pirate-themed show at the aquarium this weekend. Private event. Kids would lose their minds over it.”

He leans against the desk, arms crossed over his chest, watching me like he’s waiting for something, like he’s trying to catch the tremor beneath my calm exterior.

“Take them.”

I blink. “You’re not coming?”

He shakes his head once, slow and deliberate. “You’ll go. You’ll represent the family.”

His tone is casual, but there’s a weight behind it, a pressure I feel like a hand against my back, testing, pushing, waiting for me to crack.

“Can you handle that,Nanny Alice?”

“Yes. Of course,” I answer, too quickly, too eagerly.

He studies me in silence for a beat longer, then straightens and takes a step toward me. My breath catches without permission, my heart stumbling as he moves closer.

“Good. I’ll have the driver take you. Vito will be going with you.”

I nod, though I’m not sure I hear much over the pounding in my ears. But then his gaze lingers longer than it should, sweeping over my face like he’s memorizing something. Or searching for something that doesn’t quite add up.

Then, quietly, almost too softly, he says, “Did you findwhat you were looking for?”

My stomach twists into a sick knot. I don’t flinch. I don’t blink. I pretend I didn’t hear it.

Instead, I offer the one lifeline I have left. “You should come. It would make another good memory. The children need that… and so do you.”

For a moment, I think I see it, a flicker in his eyes. A hesitation. Something close to regret or longing. But whatever it is, it’s gone before I can name it.

He lifts a brow. “I didn’t realize we were intimate enough for you to speak on my behalf.”

His words cut, clean and precise, and before I can form a response, he’s already stepping toward the door. Not away from me. Just to open it.

“I didn’t mean—” I start, my voice low and strained.

But he cuts me off with nothing more than a gesture, his hand sweeping the door open as he holds it there, waiting.

“I’ll see you later,” he says, the formality of it colder than any dismissal.

I nod and step out into the hall, my heart beating too loudly in my chest and my feet numb as I walk. I make it halfway down the corridor before I allow myself to breathe.

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