I give her the sweetest smile I can muster, standing a little taller than before, grateful, once again, I’m only related to this horrendous woman via marriage and not by blood.
With my hand on my chest, I shake my head at her. “Why would you ever think such a thing?”
I can tell by the way her eyes turn into slits that she’s not done with me. But then something behind me catches her attention, and she gasps. Her eyes are widening so far that I’m afraid her eyeballs might pop out of their sockets.
“Figlio di puttana.” Aunt Maria spits out the curse words before she turns and leaves, our conversation completely forgotten.
Thank fuck.
Ally whistles under her breath and finishes the last of her drink, her gaze trained on the same spot Maria’s just was. “Son of a bitch, indeed. Who invited Matteo to the party? I didn’t even know he was back. And why is he talking to our dads?”
“Matteo?” I turn around and scan the crowd. Apprehension and unease coil in my stomach at the name, and the second I spothimacross the room, that feeling only intensifies.
It’s really him.
The man from my wedding night.
It’s been three weeks since I last saw him in that hotel suite. Three weeks since he kissed me and turned me to putty in his hands.
I’ve thought about him a lot since that night, replaying the way he touched me and how he made me feel more alive in that moment than I’d ever felt before.
Was it stupid to kiss him? Probably.
But no one has ever regarded me the way he did. Like I was more than just a possession, more than just a means to an end. Like I was a real person with a heart and a soul and not just a body.
When I lie awake in bed at night, I sometimes imagine how things would have played out if the noise outside the hotel room hadn’t stopped us. Would we have gone further? Would I have . . . would I have let him . . .
“Earth to Gemma.” Ally elbows me.
Two, three, four more times until I take a step to the side and hiss at her, “What?”
“He’s staring at you.” She giggles. “Holy shit, it’s intense.”
I blink, then blink again, everything coming back into focus, especially the man who has haunted my dreams ever since the day my husband died.
Ally clears her throat. “Why are you staring back at him like that, Gem?”
Straightening my spine, I tear my gaze away from the group of men across the room before I gain any unwanted attention from my dad or someone else in the family. “What? I wasn’t. I was zoning out, looking at nothing and no one in particular.”
She nods, like what I just said made total sense. “Ah mmm, uh-huh, of course. Who’s the liar now?”
My skin tingles with discomfort.
I didn’t tell anyone about my encounter withMatteo. Gosh, why does even his name have to sound sexy?
Stop thinking about him that way.
He might have killed your husband.
Matteo was there to talk to Luigi, so he probably killed him.
Good. I’m glad.
Ah fuck. I’m going to go to hell for that.
That’s exactly why I didn’t tell anyone.
I’m a nutcase.