Page 36 of The Sicilian Billionaire's Neglected Wife
She looks at me then, really looks at me, and for a moment her mask slips. Raw pain flashes across her features, so acute it steals my breath.
“Nothing you’re capable of giving.”
The words hit me in the chest. I actually feel myself flinch, the movement small but there. Myca’s hand finds my knee under the table, squeezing in what she probably thinks is comfort.
My skin crawls at the contact. Wrong wrong wrong. Every instinct screams at me to shake her off, to reach for the right woman, to fix this before—
“If we could focus,” Adriano suggests mildly, though his eyes miss nothing. “There are assets to discuss. The Monaco property—”
“She can have it.” The words tumble out, surprising everyone including me.
Sienah’s eyes widen. “I don’t—”
“The cars, the investments, whatever she wants.” I’m unraveling, everything slipping through my fingers like sand. “Just—”
Just come home. Just look at me the way you used to. Just let me fix this somehow.
But the words stick in my throat, choking me.
“How generous,” Myca purrs, her fingers tracing patterns on my thigh now. “Though I’m sure we can negotiate something more...reasonable. After all, ten years isn’t so long in the grand scheme of things.”
I feel rather than see Sienah flinch. The small wounded sound she makes hits me like a sledgehammer to the chest.
“Ten years,” she repeats softly, like she’s tasting the words. Testing their weight. “No. I suppose it’s not.”
Her chair scrapes back. She’s standing, swaying slightly, and I’m halfway out of my seat before I catch myself.
“I need a moment,” she says to Shayla. “Please.”
She turns to leave, and panic claws at my throat. She’s walking away again. Leaving again. I can’t—
“Sienah.” Her name tears from my throat without permission.
She pauses in the doorway but doesn’t turn. I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way her hand grips the doorframe for support.
“I’ll sign whatever you want me to sign.” Her voice is steady now, empty of everything that makes her...her. “Just send the papers when they’re ready.”
She’s almost gone when Myca speaks again, her voice pitched to carry.
“Don’t worry about Aivan, darling. I’ll take excellent care of him.” She leans into me, her breath hot against my ear as she stage-whispers, “Just like I did in the limo earlier. You remember, don’t you? How eager you were to—”
The sound that tears from Sienah’s throat is wounded animal pain. She spins, eyes wild, hand reaching out to steady herself against the wall.
And then—
She sees Myca’s hand on my thigh. Sees how close she’s pressed against me. Sees what this looks like, what Myca wants her to see.
The last bit of color drains from her face. Her eyes go glassy with shock, pupils blown wide with something beyond pain. Beyond betrayal.
Recognition.
She thinks I’ve already replaced her. Thinks I’ve already moved on. Thinks the limo was—
“No.” The word rips from my chest. “Sienah, it’s not—”
Her hand moves in what seems like slow motion, reaching for something, anything to hold onto. Her fingers brush the side table, catching the edge of Shayla’s crystal vase.
Time slows as it topples.
