Page 36 of Playing the Sicilian's Game of Revenge

He felt the intake of breath, heard the little shudder of it as she exhaled. But when she turned to face him, she was all sunny smiles. “Thanks!” Then she did a little turn in her dress. “Approve?”

It plunged in the front, but not outrageously so. The straps were mere suggestions of fabric rather than anything substantial, and the dress’s shape swept around her, outlining the perfect hourglass of her figure.

He could not seem to come up with words. Why should such a simple garment affect him so? Because she had set it up thusly, laid down rules, and was now breaking them on purpose. It was all a game.

One he had no designs on winning, because he had no desire to play.

“It’s fine,” he returned.

She didn’t even pout. Just turned to an array of shoes spread out all along the floor. “Which shoes do you think I should wear?”

He did not know why this question enraged him, but he knew he could not let that frustration show. “Approval is not playing fashionista, bedda.”

She shrugged as if to say, your loss. Then spent far too long in silence contemplating the pairs of shoes. She chose an open-toed pair that showed off the pink nails that matched her bra.

Like a dare.

There’d never been a question that she was a beautiful woman. He’d never had to feign attraction for her. So she could not use those wiles against him, because they weren’t weapons. They were just her.

And he was immune. He would be immune.

He took his time before speaking to ensure he was as cool and detached as he was determined to be.

“I do not know what game you’re playing at, Saverina, but I can assure you it is not one you will win.”

She sighed. Heavily. Then crossed to him and patted his chest. Like he was a misguided child. “Teo, it is no game. What you are now dealing with is simply me.”

“And what, pray tell, was I dealing with before?”

She seemed to consider this, moving over to a vanity. She poked around in little bowls and boxes filled with jewelry. “Insecurity, I suppose. When I thought this was all real, I was very careful around you. I didn’t change my whole personality, lie about the things I like, change who I am at my core, or anything like that, so I thought it was fine. But I was careful with the truth. Careful with how readily I showed how much I enjoyed your company. Maybe I was just taking cues from you at first, but in the end, I was so afraid you would not love me if I pushed too hard, that I simply didn’t push at all.” She attached one dangly earring that sparkled in the light, and then the other, as she studied herself in the mirror.

When she finally turned, her expression was one of complete control. He didn’t want to believe this little speech of hers, but it was hard not to when he realized he’d never seen this expression on her face before. He’d seen what she spoke of. Always just a hint of being careful.

“I have to thank you, I think,” she said. “For lying to me. It taught me a valuable lesson. Because if I’d been honest, if I hadn’t been so afraid of...failing at relationships or whatever, I would have been fully myself, and maybe this would have gone differently. If I’d been open and honest about my feelings. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have. Maybe you have it in you to lie and manipulate someone who’s in love with you, but I don’t think you do.”

“You’d be surprised, bedda.” He would do anything for his revenge. That had always been the plan. Whatever it took. Maybe he’d lost sight of that, but she had reminded him. This had reminded him. He was not nice. He did not care for her feelings, her panic attacks, her. The foolish fiction of love.

All he cared about was his revenge.

“Maybe,” she agreed, so damn readily he wanted to rage. “But it is of no matter. Because my lesson is learned, and now I will not fear being myself, feeling all my feelings around you. If you do not like that version of me...” She lifted an elegant shoulder. “It is your problem. Not mine.”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SAVERINA HAD NOT fully realized how many eggshells she’d been walking on all this time with Teo. A shadow of herself. It should be embarrassing, maybe, but it was hard not to chalk it up to a learning experience. She was young. All in all, it had not been the most traumatizing first love a person could endure.

Now that she had let most of her anger go, now that she saw this whole experience as just that—an experience—to learn and grow from, she could sit back, relax and enjoy.

Oh, she was still in love with him. That wouldn’t be easy to get over. But it was possible. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to get through to him. Show him that his grief was not the enemy, and his revenge could never assuage it.

She wouldn’t shrink herself to make that happen, and that was the difference between real love and what her parents had done to one another.

She watched the city go by, content with Teo’s brooding silence tonight. The fact he was brooding, was irritated with her, was only a good sign. Much like the realization she’d come to earlier about him lowering his guard with her after the first few weeks of wooing her with fake charm and smiles. When Teo couldn’t control his anger, frustration, or whatever this was, that meant there was something deeper at play.

Poor hurting man. So determined to fight away all those feelings. Maybe they needed to get their revenge over with so he could get to that other side and realize he needed to deal with his grief.

She’d done some digging on Dante’s wife, Julia. She’d gone back over everything she’d found when the attack had first happened and tried to coordinate a plan on what she could hack into that would give them answers. She had a lead to tug. She hadn’t told Teo the work she’d done, not just because he’d been playing scarce, but because she’d wanted to get something for sure before she admitted to him she was trying to.

She might be growing, maturing, evolving, but it was a process, not an immediate cure. She’d likely always have panic attacks, so mitigating her triggers wasn’t cowardice.

---