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Without answering my question, he stomps off into the bathroom adjoining our bedroom, slamming the door behind him. I sigh, wrapping the covers around me and rolling over, unsure where to go from here. The shower turns on and I fall back to sleep, chasing the feeling I had while I was in the dream.

I knock on the door of Elio’s office for the second time, again with no answer. He’s barely spoken to or looked at me since I denied him sex three days ago and we’re due to marry in four.

“Malia,” I hear my name drawled in disapproval from behind me.

I swallow down the scoff that threatens to escape my throat, turning around and plastering the fakest smile I could as Elio’s mother, Sofia, comes to a stop in front of me. Her eyes, the same brown as her son’s, slowly travel down my body, a hint of a sneer pulling at her lip.

A wave of anger at her disapproval nearly makes me smack the look off her face.

I see Tyjae step closer to us, reading the exchange and I stop her with a look before she interferes. I don’t want her getting in trouble with Elio because his mom’s a bitch and my friend has my back.

“What are you doing?” she asks when she’s finished doing whatever it was she was doing.

I blink at her several times. I would think me knocking on Elio’s door was as obvious as her son’s temper tantrum.

“Looking for Elio,” I say, my tone flat.

I wish I knew what I did to her before to make her act this way toward me. Whatever it was, I hope it was worth it.

Elio’s parents, Giovanni and Sofia, flew in from America a few days ago, which has made it easy for Elio to keep himself busy while he ignores me.

Sofia has taken it upon herself to plan the entire wedding, without allowing me any input. Aside from the dress, which I’m sure will come with a list of rules that will keep mommy dearest happy, she’s hardly offered me so much as a glance so far.

She smiles at me tightly, tucking her long brown hair behind her ear, trying to make herself appear coy, and somehow missing the mark.

“I mean with my son, darling,” she says with a smile that is anything but warm.

“Malia,” Tyjae interrupts and Sofia narrows her eyes on the both of us. “You’ll need to hurry and get your stuff from Mr. Ricci’s office so we can make our appointment at the dress shop.”

I stare at her, raising an eyebrow. The appointment is tomorrow, but I’ll take any bait Tyjae is waving in my face to get away from Sofia.

Sofia purses her lips, turning her glare on me one more time before she turns and stalks away with her chin high in the air.

“Thanks,” I say, facing Tyjae.

She shrugs, her lip twitching slightly. “Don’t thank me, I’m just too lazy to break up a catfight today.”

I huff a laugh and turn back to Elio’s office door, knocking once again.

“Just go in,” Tyjae says, and I let my hand drop to my side. “He can’t ignore you if you put yourself in his way.”

I’m not sure I want to put myself in his way, but with the wedding day closing in on us. I don’t want to be fighting either.

I only get one wedding in a lifetime, I refuse to stand on a podium while my husband glares at me because he has blue balls. But I’ll keep that opinion to myself.

My hand closes around the doorknob and I push the door open, stepping through. The lights are on, but he’s not in here. I frown, looking around his office, which lacks character. It’s minimally decorated, with paperwork and books so organized I feel like I’m making a mess just standing in the room. There isn’t a speck of dust or any hint that this room is used often, even though I know it is.

I’ve been in here a few times, but there’s been a few others in here with us. I’ve never had the chance before to take in how much this room screamsanal retentiveandpretentious dickhead.

What the hell has gotten into me?

Something glints on the desk, the light catching it and snagging my attention when I take a step. I squint, trying to see what it is, but it’s half concealed by a folder that Elio must’ve been looking at.

I walk to the desk, letting my curiosity get the best of me, and move the folder.

A dagger lies under the folder, with intricate designs etched into the cool metal. I pick it up, familiarity calling to me when I hold it in my hands.

It’s beautiful.


Tags: Charli Owen Erotic