Page 92 of Mafia Toy

“Maybe we should give you a bath,” Sage suggested. “To help you relax.”

But I didn’t want to relax right now. I wouldn’t be able to relax in a bath with her without clearing my mind first. I had brought Sage here for a reason—and not to a luxury hotel to hide us away. I wanted to spend time with her, to show her the home that she’d live in for the rest of her life—with or without Laila.

My chest tightened. Hopefullywith.

So, I moved off Sage, turned away to wipe the tears from my cheeks, and shook my head. “I wanna show you around first. We can take a bath later.” I opened my car door and walked around the car to grab hers too. “Follow me.”

When she exited the car, she took my hand and squeezed it. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Without questioning it, she followed me into the house and passed the guards. Sage gawked at the foyer, mouth slightly ajar. She moved closer to me and scanned the room, a grin painted on her full nude-colored lips.

“This is your house?” she whispered. “It’s grander than the penthouse.”

A weak chuckle escaped my lips. I wanted to be happy and wished that Laila and I could’ve shown her the house together because Laila would’ve completely gushed about every single piece of artwork hanging on the walls.

Sage released my hand and sauntered through the halls, to each and every room. She’d walk up to a painting, stare at it for a few moments, then get distracted by another, and hurry over to it with a smile.

As she explored the home, I ran a hand through my hair and paced on the hardwood floor. Laila plagued my thoughts.

I shouldn’t have walked out, but I had no choice. I kept telling myself that.

I had nothing else I could’ve done.

But I was wrong. This was my fault. All my fault.

Still, I should be home with Laila because if she made a mistake while trying to kill Bethany … the FBI would be on her ass in a heartbeat. If anyone from the family found out we had gotten into a fight, they might try to … hurt her.

“These are beautiful,” Sage gushed, walking back up to me and taking my hand.

I gave her another weak smile. “Aren’t they?”

Art really wasn’t my thing, so I had nothing else to offer in this conversation. I chewed on the inside of my cheek—something I never did—but my stomach was in tight knots. Maybe I should go home to make sure Laila killed Bethany cleanly.

“What are you thinking about?” Sage said, the happiness suddenly gone from her voice.

Which wasn’t what I wanted.

“Nothing,” I said quickly, trying to lead her to the door.

“Talk to me,” she said, refusing to follow. “What’s wrong?”

But I didn’t want to tell Sage that I had forced Laila to kill Bethany to prove herself to us. It felt so fucking wrong—I had known that it was wrong when I said it—because Laila had never killedanythingbefore.

I doubted she’d be able to kill a mouse.

“What good husband would give his wife that choice?” I said, stiffening when I realized I had said the last bit aloud.

“A husband who wants what is best for his wife,” Sage said, pushing some hair off my forehead. “Laila isn’t going to learn without you putting her in her place. You shouldn’t have to because you’re her husband, but you deserve to be put first too. You don’t deserve to come second to anyone, especially Bethany.”

I pressed my lips together. She was right.

If Laila wanted to save our marriage, she would have to get rid of Bethany in some way, shape, or form. I didn’t care how she did it. She could hire someone in the family to permanently remove her.

But would she?

After all these years of marriage, I still didn’t know what my wife would do.

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