Page 86 of Vengeful Vows

My desperation to save myself means I can never do that.

“Earth to Bella?” Leaning forward, Amelia snaps her fingers in front of my face.

“Sorry.”

“You have no idea what he’s planning for the holidays, if anything, do you?”

I press my lips together but don’t respond. She already knows that my husband is not the most forthcoming of men.

“And you’re still not sleeping well.”

Is it that obvious?

She takes my hands in hers. “You can’t keep living this way.”

“What choice do I have?” I choke out.

“Why don’t you stay with me for a bit? Get some rest?”

“I can’t involve you.” Each time she makes the offer, I respond in the same way. Though Antonio protects me, he serves at Nico’s pleasure. He will always inform his boss as to my whereabouts. And I have no doubt Nico would break down the door to get to me.

When we finish our bubbly, I stand, and she follows suit.

“Look, consider joining us in Galveston, even if Nico doesn’t want to come. The break will do you good.”

“I’ll think about it,” I lie. He will not allow me to go without him, and I can’t go with him and pretend everything is okay.

Then we hug goodnight.

Antonio delivers me home, and when I enter the penthouse, it’s to see Nico sitting on a chair, gazing at the unlit fireplace, a glass of scotch in hand. His ankle is propped on the opposite knee. His suit jacket is haphazardly strewn on the back of the couch, and his tie is curled on top.

As I close the door with a soft click, he looks up sharply.

Then his expression relaxes, and he smiles, a slow, wicked motion that stops my heart. Then, as if a gulf doesn’t separate us, he holds out his hand in invitation.

I shouldn’t.

Every time I lower my guard, I get hurt.

Maybe because big-band Christmas music is playing in the background or because my resistance is low, I perch on the chair that is angled toward his.

He looks as exhausted as I feel.

Is the weight of responsibility getting to him?

He asks about my day, and I tell him.

When I ask about his, he offers to draw me a bath.

I sigh. “It’s time we talked. I know, Nico. About the things you’re keeping from me. Your position in the family, about Roberto stepping down, and about Las Vegas.”

“It’s work. Nothing more.” He dismisses my comments. “There’s no need to concern yourself.”

I tried to open a figurative door between us only to have him close it in my face.

“I’m glad you’re home.” He stands.

“Are you?”