Page 80 of Luca
"Everything all right?" I ask.
"He’s still worried. Wanted to make sure nothing had... changed."
"And what did you tell him?"
"That everything was perfect. That you're a wonderful husband and I'm very happy."
"Are you? Happy?"
The question slips out and surprises us both. She looks at me with those dark eyes that I now know belong to Gabriella, not Sofia, and I see honesty there.
“I’d be happier if I knew I’d be alive to celebrate our first year anniversary,” she says in the first spark of life from her since Prague.
"There’s a dinner party this weekend," I say, changing the subject. "My stepmother is expecting us to attend."
"Of course. I'll make sure I'm prepared."
"Good. Because there will be people there who knew Sofia before our marriage. People who might notice if anything seems... different."
"Yes, I understand."
"Do you? Because if you make a mistake, if someone becomes suspicious, it won't just be your life at risk."
"I won't make a mistake."
But even as she says it, I'm thinking about Dante's message. The look in his eyes in Milan when he realized he'd been played by my wife. How men like him don't forget humiliation and don't forgive being made to look foolish.
"Get some rest," I tell her. "Tomorrow, we return to our normal routine."
Whatever normal means now.
As I watch her head toward our bedroom—toward the bed we share under false pretenses that somehow feel more real than anything else in my life—I make a decision.
Or perhaps the decision has always been made and I only now acknowledge it.
The investigation is closed. The secret is buried.
Anyone who threatens to expose it, anyone who puts her in danger, will discover exactly how far I'm willing to go to protect what's mine.
Chapter 31: Gabriella
Luca has been quiet all evening, but not the comfortable kind of silence we sometimes share. There’s space between us that didn’t exist before Prague, and tonight it feels wider than ever.
He stands close enough to touch, but the way he’s watching me makes it seem as though he’s already stepped back.
I’m losing him.
"You look beautiful," Luca says from behind me as I adjust my earrings in the mirror. His reflection appears over my shoulder, and I catch his eyes in the glass.
"Thank you." I turn to face him. "Are you ready for the party?"
"Are you?"
It's become our new way of communicating, short questions that carry more weight than their simple words suggest. Everything between us is layered now, coded with the knowledge of who I really am.
"I'll be fine. I've been Sofia for weeks now."
"Yes," he says quietly. "But tonight feels different. People might be watching.”
