Page 13 of The Sicilian Billionaire's Neglected Wife
She laughs, bright and musical. “That ridiculous cat. But Elena was so grateful. Did Luigi show you the pictures? George has gained five pounds since the surgery.”
“When did you go to Switzerland?”
A little flush creeps up her neck. She does that when she’s nervous. Or excited. “Three weeks ago. You were at Maranello for testing, and Elena called crying, and I just...I couldn’t let George die. Not when I could help.”
Three weeks ago. When I didn’t even notice she was gone.
“Come.” She takes my hand, and her fingers tremble just slightly. “Dinner’s ready. Your favorite.”
She leads me into the dining room, and I finally understand. The table’s set for seduction. Or romance. Or whatever this is. Candles everywhere, casting shadows that dance across her skin. Rose petals scattered like someone exploded a flower shop.
“Sienah—”
“Sit.” She’s already moving, pulling out my chair with flourishing gestures that speak of carefully planned choreography. “Everything’s perfect. I timed it exactly right.”
I sit because refusing would dim that light in her eyes. She disappears into the kitchen, returns with plates that smell like heaven. Osso buco. The dish that takes her four hours to make properly. Saffron risotto gleaming like gold.
“You cooked all day.”
Realizing this makes me feel guilty as hell.
“I wanted it to be special.”
And now I feel a thousand times guiltier.
My wife settles across from me, candlelight playing across her features. Making her look younger. Softer. Like the girl I married so many years ago, once upon a time.
“I know you’ve been busy with the new contract,” she says, pouring wine with hands that still shake slightly. “Gabriel’s been pushing hard for exclusive terms. But tonight...” She pauses, bites her lip in that way that makes my body tighten with instinctive need. “Tonight’s just for us.”
I take a sip of wine.Barolo. The good stuff we save for victories. “Sienah—”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said last week.” She leans forward, eyes bright with anticipation. “About having three words to tell me. Words you’ve been waiting years to say.”
Last week?
What the hell did I tell her last week?
I rifle through memories. Conference call with Gabriel. Final terms. Exclusive rights. The biggest deal of my career finally coming together.
My wife is now smiling at me shyly, even blushing a little, and I’m just fucking...perplexed.
“I haven’t been able to think about anything else.”
Understanding dawns with the force of a high-speed impact.
Ah, thank fuck, I finally remember what I told her last week, and my lips curve. “The way you’re looking at me now...it’s obvious, what I planned to tell you,sì?”
Every racing publication has been speculating about my next career move, and Gabriel and I haven’t exactly been subtle about our negotiations.
“So tell you what.” I lean back, watching her lean forward in response. “How about I give you a reward if you can guess what those three words are?”
Siena’s blush actually deepens.
Chi bedda. How adorable.
“But...I just...you really want me to say it first?”
“I can’t give you a reward if you don’t say it first.”
