Page 117 of Mafia Toy

After nodding, she turned back toward the door. But before she could leave, I gently grasped her wrist and tugged her back to me. She sucked in a sharp breath and glanced up at me through her lashes, her brows drawn together. I tucked some hair behind her ear.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No.”

“You can tell me,” I said, chest tightening. “You’ve been ignoring me lately. Won’t come up and spend time with us like you used to. Nothing has been the same since we came home from Italy.”

We’d had such a good time on vacation, and then everything had shattered.

Tears wavered in her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Sage,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Please, talk to me.”

I didn’t want to cry because I wished to be strong for her, but these hormones had been bad this week. Between the lingering memory that I had killed someone to being waterboarded and beaten to this …

“Sage, please,” I repeated.

Yet she gently pulled herself away from me and tore her gaze from mine. “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t fine, but I didn’t want to push her away. I feared that if I asked her too many questions, pushed too hard for an answer, or became too overbearing, then she would leave me. And that was the worst thing that could happen right now.

“If you ever want to talk …” I trailed off because I didn’t know what to say.

Grasping the door handle, she lingered by the door, her entire body tense. I wished that she would turn back, tell me everything that was bothering her, but she didn’t make a move to do either. Instead, she gave me a small nod and left.

My chest tightened, my stomach in knots. I wanted to hurl again this morning.

Why wouldn’t she talk to me? Was it because I had killed someone in front of her? Didn’t do more to stop her from being tortured?

Whatever was going on was my fault. And I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t know what to say. Constantino had always been the one who was better at controlling his emotions and thinking about things logically. Better at assessing situations and figuring out solutions.

It was one of the many reasons he and I worked so well. I was a mess, and he wasn’t.

But with Sage and me … it was so much harder.

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I satin my empty apartment with my suitcases packed. They had been packed for three days, but I hadn’t had the courage to leave. Honestly, I didn’t want to go, but I … needed some time away from the family.

To figure things out.

Was this what I really wanted? Would I ever come first to Laila and Constantino? When the baby finally came in less than nine months now, would I become second to it? Would they have time for me?

Tears streamed down my cheeks. I didn’t want to think about it because I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want to go shopping for baby clothes with Laila, knowing that she would ditch me in a few months. I didn’t want to attend her art gala and finally be able to go out in public with Laila and Constantino, knowing that they would be too busy for me one day.

But, fuck, I didn’t want to leave.

I fucking loved them more than I had loved any man or woman before, even more than most of my family. Yet I couldn’t allow myself to get attached more than I already was. I had signed up for a year with them, and that was all.

It had been a month, maybe. Honestly, time was all jumbled for me after everything had happened.

“They don’t need me,” I repeated to convince myself. “Laila is pregnant.”

What use am I now? A fucktoy until … when?

Deciding that I couldn’t sit in this room forever in silence with Riccardo, I called Poppy.

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