Page 62 of Where Quiet Hearts Scream
I let my gaze drop to the floor. Not yet? Then when? What do I have to do?
“Well, thank you for this evening,” I say quietly, then I step past him into the house. His hand catches my elbow and he spins me around a little too fast.
When I look up into his eyes, I have to catch my breath. He looks almost livid, though it isn’t anger that shines through his irises, it’s something else. It’sreminiscent of the way he looked at me in my bridal gown. Like he’s all out of patience, like he needs some kind of fix or, I don’t know, a therapist of his own.
When he speaks, his voice is so low I can barely hear him. “Goodnight, Serafina.”
Then he turns around sharply, climbs into the waiting vehicle and doesn’t look back at me once.
Andreas
My cell is burning a hole in my palm. It’s four a.m., and since I returned to this apartment after dropping Serafina at the house I haven’t been able to sleep.
I’ve been pacing the floor with a cell in my hand waiting until a half-reasonable hour to call Nowak. She’s seen Serafina again since our last call and I need more reassurance. Is my wife getting stronger? Can she mentally and physically handle a six foot five, three-hundred pound mafia don in the house who wants to fuckingeather like she’s his last meal?
I’ve killed people with my bare hands; I’ve negotiated with psychopaths ten times more unhinged than me; I’ve been tortured with every tactic out there, but navigating a full evening with Serafina by my sidelooking like a celestial nymph was a challenge I wasn’t prepared for.
That dress, for a start. She couldn’t have chosen a more perfect color. Her hair couldn’t have been more exquisitely styled, scooped up into an intricate woven style showing off the smooth skin at her throat. And that shoulder. That traitorous naked shoulder that made my throat dry all evening. I carried a glass of water everywhere, not to look sociable, sensible or amenable but to give me an excuse to constantly sip something since my saliva had gone M.I.A.
And the way she behaved. I realized too late I hadn’t briefed her, so she had no idea of my expectations, or the reasons why the event was so important to me. Yet, she didn’t falter once.
She was quieter than I’d have liked but it was our first event together. She was polite and charming—no one would have guessed she was struggling with so much beneath the mask. I, on the other hand, didn’t miss the way she eyed up the glassware. That only confirmed to me we’ve still a long way to go—she’s far from healed. It’s going to take a lot more than a few weeks of therapy and lifestyle management.
My pants haven’t loosened since I laid eyes on her coming down the stairs but I have to shelve my own desire until she’s ready. Meanwhile, I need to work on her trust. She doesn’t forgive me for misleading her and it’s going to take time to remind her of what she saw in me in the beginning.
In stark contrast to her quiet charm, her response to Olsson was…fiery.
We’re not oldfriends,she and I, but we do have history. She’s one of the reasons I know I’m good with women and their bodies. I slept with her a few times many years ago and she’s been following me around like a puppy ever since.
It’s annoying that I need to keep her on side for these plans to be approved. If she were legit herself I would have more respect for her stalling, but she’s as black market as politicians come. She’s an enemy I unfortunately need to keep close but only Arrow knows that.
I’m not lying when I say I want to build a tech facility here in the city, but I have specific plans for how it will be used. Not simply for above board solution-building—which is where I’m getting the buy-in—but for the things peoplewant, the things people willpay a lot of money for, like irresistible gambling platforms, propaganda machines and data farms.
It’s going to form the beating heart of the Di Santo-Corioni Alliance, and it’s going to make me a fucking King.
And a King needs a Queen.
Serafina’s reaction to Olsson has baffled me. Why did she turn on the first class charm when everyone else she greeted got the economy version? What was it about Olsson that made Serafina so animated? Was she genuinely in awe of the Swede? Was she energized by the food or bored of the company to her right?
Was she…jealous?
My heart clenches at the prospect of the latter. I want Serafina to feel better, to feel good—so fucking good. But I must admit, the thought of her feeling jealous of other women only makes my pants tighter.
The interaction with Olsson isn’t the only thing giving me pause. I wasn’t happy with the way Governor Grayson drooled over my wife when I introduced them. She was oblivious, putting on the same polite smile she’d given every other politician I introduced her to.
I need to build a good relationship with Grayson—he’s pivotal to getting this facility off the ground. He and Olsson are deep in each other’s pockets but he’s the one I really need to convince. She needs to just show it can work. He’s the one I need the permission from.
His gaze lingered on my wife for too long. I didn’t miss the way it roamed over her gorgeous body packaged to perfection in that dress. I also watched as he licked his lips like a ravenous dog even though his wife stood at his side.
When I got what I ultimately came for—an invitation to join him on his yacht to discuss the plans in more detail—I was surprisingly bothered. The invitation is for two and I’m not sure I want to subject my wife to more of his lecherous ogling. My spine stiffens at the thought. I know I’ll need to work overtime to stop from poking his eyes out— the one sure solution to make certain he doesn’t look at my wife in that way again.
It’s one week away. One week until I get to see my wife in her full beautiful glory again. That thoughtreminds me I’m impatient. I lift my phone to my ear and call the one person who can reassure me of any progress. It’s 4.30 a.m. but she’ll answer. This is what I pay her for.
Serafina
I stare in bewilderment at my closet. “What on earth should I wear for an informal networking dinner on a yacht?” I ask Viola in despair.
“Well,” she begins in a voice that calms me. “It’s going to be hot but the breeze from the ocean will make the temperature bearable. It’s likely you’ll be eating on the deck. I think a long summer dress will be the best choice, with a conservative cardigan or light jacket in case the breeze becomes a little sharp.”
