Page 29 of The Sicilian Billionaire's Neglected Wife
“But Aivan—”
“If you don’t want to speak with him just yet,” Adriano said quietly, “we’ll make sure he understands that you’ve asked for time.”
Shayla gives my hand another squeeze. “You’re our friend, too, Sienah. And we meant it when we said you’re safe with us.”
“T-Thank you.” The words are so painfully adequate, but it’s the only thing I can give them. I have nothing else.
Dinner passes mostly in silence, with the couple deliberately giving me time and space to just...be. I finish my croissant without ever recalling its taste. Down my coffee like it’s my only hope for sleep. We call it a night soon after, and I’m ridiculously proud when my voice doesn’t shake as I say good night back.
I even make it to the bedroom with my eyes still dry, but the moment I collapse onto the bed, I’m already crying.
I don’t love you.
I cover my ears, but it’s pointless, with my heart sobbing the words over and over and over.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
I don’t love you.
I wake to afternoon light and the sound of voices downstairs the next day, and for one disorienting moment, I reach for Aivan before reality crashes back.
Oh God.
I remember everything in a flash, and of course, oh of course those words come back with a vengeance, too.
I don’t love you.
My phone sits silent on the nightstand where I abandoned it. No missed calls. No texts. Seven hours since I walked out, and he hasn’t even noticed.
Or worse, he has and doesn’t care.
Downstairs, I find Shayla in what appears to be a home office, sorting through legal documents. She glances up as I hover in the doorway.
“Better?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I shift awkwardly. “I should probably—”
“What? Leave?” She sets down her pen. “Do you have money of your own? Credit cards that aren’t linked to his accounts?”
Each question lands like a stone dropped in still water. “I...no.”
“Then sit. We need to be practical.” She gestures to a chair. “The legal aid office needs help tomorrow. Paperwork, making coffee for clients. Interested?”
“I...yes. Yes, I’d like that.”
“Good. Eight AM.” She returns to her documents. “Adriano’s making some calls. Quietly. The kind that ensure certain people know you’re under his protection.”
“But didn’t Adriano already speak to Eusebio—”
“It’s not that simple withfamiglia,” Shayla explained. “It’s possible that Eusebio only speaks to Miguel Cannizzaro. We need to make sure that Aivan knows whose permission he’s obtained to have you as a guest, and so do other...famiglie.Those without power may get it in their head to “rescue” you in hopes of earning favor with the Cannizzaros. To prevent unnecessary complications, everyone must know that your current situation is an internal matter, and not one for otherfamiglieto be involved in.”
My stomach has tied itself in a thousand knots by the time she’s finished speaking. “I’m so sorry.” How could have I forgotten that the Cannizzaros were no ordinary family? How could have I not foreseen I’d be causing trouble of this magnitude to the one couple—
“Hey.”
Shayla’s voice hauls me back to the present.
