Page 56 of His Playground
“Nothing.” She continues to stare out the window, refusing to look at me.
I pull out of the parking lot, leaving her alone with her thoughts for a moment. I count down in my head and, as expected, she turns to face me on her own.
“Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? What is Professor George going to think of me now? How can I go back to class and act like my husband didn’t just treat me like a child—no, worse!Like a piece of property?”
“First, who the fuck cares what Professor Dipshit thinks about you? Second, you’re my wife. You should be using my name,” I tell her.
“Plenty of women in the twenty-first century do not take their husbands’ names,” Antonia huffs.
“Good for them. They’re not married to me. You are,” I say. “And you are taking my name.”
“Why?”
“What do you meanwhy? I want my wife to share my name. That’s why.”
“I’m not a cow you can just brand,” she tells me. “And where the hell are you taking me now?”
“I told you. I have something I want to show you.”
“What happened to the guy who shot at you and Jazzy? Who was it? And why did he do it?” she asks, changing the subject all of a sudden.
I turn to look at her when I stop at a red light. “You don’t need to worry about that. It’s been dealt with.”
“I might not need to, but I am. Why is someone trying to kill you, Carlo?” she asks. “And who was he?”
“He was some low-level thug. Emmanuel found him and delivered me his head.” I shrug. “It’s dealt with.”
“You keep saying that. But that’s not what I’m asking you. Why was he shooting at you to begin with?” she presses.
Fucking hell, Antonia has never questioned me about the business before. Why now? How is she going to react if I tell her it’s her father who’s trying to have me killed?
Pulling onto the street, I point up ahead. “We’re almost here,” I say instead of answering her question. I don’t know why, but something is urging me not to tell her just yet. I need to figure out how I’m going to deal with Marciano. If I have to kill him, I’d prefer my wife didn’t know I killed her father.
I punch in the code and wait for the gate to open before navigating us up the long driveway.
“Whose house is this?” Antonia asks, peering up at the three-story monstrosity.
“Ours.” I cut the engine, jump out of the car, and walk around to her door, opening it for her.
Antonia takes my hand as she steps out. “What do you meanours?”
“I bought it. For us. You, me, and Jazzy.” I look for any sign of… Honestly, I’m not really sure what reaction I’m looking for, but she smiles.
“You bought us a house?”
I’m also not sure why she sounds so surprised. She came with me the first time we went looking. It was a good way to figure out what options she liked. “You wanna see inside?”
“I do,” she says. “But first, I want you to answer my question, Carlo. I don’t want to just be the pretty wife who says:yes sir, no sir. The kind of woman who’s seen and not heard. If someone is trying to kill my husband, I want to know why. And I want to know who it is.”
Fuck, I was hoping she’d drop it.
“You are heard, Antonia,” I tell her.
“Then answer my question. Who is trying to kill you?” she pushes.
I release my grip on her hand, turn towards the house, and run my fingers through my hair. Indecision cuts through me. I could tell her and show her that I do hear her. That I want her to be more than the typical trophy wife. Or I could lie and try to protect her from the truth. But if she finds out, we’re going right back to square one, where she doesn’t trust me.
I spin around to face Antonia. “Your father.”
