Chapter 2
By the window, Austin was sitting with Yvette. He leaned toward her, wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin, his gaze soft, intimate, exactly like the way he used to look at me when we were crammed into that little apartment.
My chest tightened. I turned to leave, but in my haste I bumped into a man. I immediately said
sorry.
He looked up. And just like that, the tenderness in his eyes turned to ice.
He stood, striding toward me. “Are you following me now?”
Before I could even breathe, he added, sharper this time, “I already told you about me and Yvette t was business. How long do you plan on making a fool of yourself?”
opened my mouth, but Mrs. Livingston’s voice from yesterday stabbed through me again: Hi: marriage with Yvette was arranged long ago. He likes her too.
Marriage. Arranged. That was the truth I had once been too blind to see.
Austin, don’t be so harsh,” Yvette said sweetly, standing to join him. “We met by chance. Wh don’t we all sit together?”
Before I could refuse, she hooked her hand through his arm and guided me toward their table. ound myself sitting across from his cold glare, the air around him pressing down on me like a hreat.
What would you like, Miss Calloway?” Yvette slid the menu over with a smile. “The Spanis! ood here is excellent.”
stared at the page filled with Spanish words. “I’m not hungry.”
Then at least try the soup,” she said kindly, signaling the waiter. A steaming bowl of seafoo soup was placed in front of me. “It’s very fresh.”
The smell hit me, and my stomach twisted. I was allergic. One sip would send me to the
ospital.
Before I could say anything, Austin’s phone rang. He stepped aside to take the call.
(vette leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Go ahead, taste it. Food like this probabl costs more than your monthly salary back when you lived in that hole you called an apartment.”
froze, my fingers tightening on the napkin.
She smiled, sipping her wine. “You don’t actually think you belong here, do you? Women like you don’t marry into families like his. If Austin hadn’t lost his memory, you wouldn’t even be allowe to shine his shoes, bitch.”
Heat burned my face but I lifted my chin anyway. “You can have—”
“Oh!”
She suddenly gasped and “accidentally” tipped the steaming soup over both our hands.
Pain seared my skin. I flinched hard, biting back a cry. Even though I reborn, the scenes of me being abused publicly was still happening in different scenes.
Austin returned at once, grabbing Yvette’s wrist. “What happened?”
Her voice trembled just enough to sound pitiful. “It’s nothing… I was just startled. I suppose Dahlia didn’t like seeing us together. It’s understandable…”
His eyes cut toward me, sharp as a blade. “How many times do I need to explain this? Why are you acting like this?”
My burned hand throbbed, red welts already rising. “She did it herself-”
“Enough!” his voice was like a gunshot. “I saw everything. When did you become so pathetic?” And then, holding Yvette close, he turned his back on me.
She rested her head on his shoulder, but not before throwing me a victorious smile over his arm. I looked down at my blistered skin, throbbing with pain. I remember three years ago, I had burned myself cooking. He rushed out in the middle of the night to buy ointment. And now? He didn’t even blink.
I smiled bitterly and went home alone.
The villa was dark and cold, just as it always was when Austin wasn’t there. I pulled the first-aic <it from the cabinet in the living room and treated my burn myself. Disinfectant stung my skin ointment cooled it for only a moment, and the bandage pressed against the blister until it hrobbed like fire ants crawling beneath my flesh.
When I finally straightened, my eyes landed on the Cielo in the corner. A grand cielo he hac bought after regaining his memory, saying he would teach me how to play.
But the lid was covered in dust. He had never touched it again, never taught me a single note Just like our marriage. Something once promised, now forgotten.
My eyes burned. I turned away quickly, heading upstairs. In the bedroom, I opened a suitcase and began to pack. Clothes, documents, bank cards. One by one, I folded my past into a single
Jox.
Halfway through, the door opened.
Austin walked in. His jacket hung over his arm, his tie loosened at his throat. He looked powerful, dangerous, every inch the mafia heir he had once forgotten he was.
His gaze fell on the suitcase. “What are you doing?”
