Bound by Shadows

Dante~

Something was wrong with Valentina.

She had been quiet ever since she rushed out of the ballroom, barely reacting when I wrapped an arm around her waist and led her back inside. She kept up appearances, nodding at the right moments, offering polite smiles, but I saw through it.

She was distracted.

Her mind was somewhere else, and it sure as hell wasn't on the blood I spilled tonight.

I replayed the moment in my head—her throwing up, her shaking hands, the way she wouldn't meet my eyes.

It wasn't just the kill that made her sick.

It was something more.

And I was going to find out what it was.

We left the ball early. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to get her alone. Away from the eyes of men who thought they could look at my wife and still walk away with their lives.

The ride back to the estate was silent.

Valentina sat stiffly beside me in the back of the black SUV, staring out the window, her fingers clenched together in her lap. I watched her, studying every breath, every shift in her expression.

She had always been hard to read, stubborn and guarded, but tonight, something was different.

When we arrived home, she barely waited for the car to stop before stepping out, heading straight for the grand staircase.

"Stop." My voice was low, sharp.

She froze but didn't turn around.

My patience thinned. "Come here, now."

A slow inhale, then she turned, her expression blank. "I'm tired, Dante."

I tilted my head, taking my time stepping closer. "You were fine before the ball. But the second I put a knife through Greco, you turn pale and run out like you saw a fucking ghost." I studied her reaction, watching for any tell, any crack in her walls. "So tell me, dolcezza, what exactly made you sick tonight?"

Her fingers twitched at her sides, her throat bobbing with a swallow. "It was—" She hesitated, eyes flickering away. "It was the blood. That's all."

A lie.

A poor one.

I stepped closer, closing the space between us until she had to tilt her chin up to meet my gaze. "You're lying."

"I'm not."

I smirked, slow and dark. "Try again."

Her jaw tightened, frustration flashing in her eyes. "You're impossible."

"And you're keeping secrets."

She stiffened.

There it was. That small, involuntary reaction.

My hand shot out, fingers gripping her chin, tilting her face toward mine. "You forget, piccola, I know you." My thumb brushed against her lower lip, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "So, tell me the truth before I decide to force it out of you."

Her breath hitched, and for a second, just a second, I saw a flicker of fear. Not of me, but of something else.

She was terrified.

And whatever it was, it had nothing to do with the kill.

I let the silence stretch, waiting.

Daring her to lie to me again.

Finally, she pulled away from my grip, crossing her arms over her chest, as if she could somehow shield herself from me. "I'm just tired," she murmured, voice softer this time. "Can I please go to bed?"

Please.

She rarely ever said that word.

And for some reason, it pissed me off.

I let my gaze drag over her, lingering on the way her body seemed smaller, more delicate, despite the fire still burning in her eyes.

Something wasn't right.

And I would figure out what it was.

Because if Valentina thought she could keep something from me—**from her husband—**then she was about to learn a very harsh lesson.

Nothing stays hidden from me.

To Be Continued...

*OH I HOPE SHE'LL TELL HIM SOON CUZ ONE WAY OR ANOTHER HE WILL FIND OUT IF ITS WITH FORCE OR COINCIDENCE😇😇*