I looked down at my hand. It was bare, except for the fine white line that marked the place where the ring usually was.
I must have left it in Vegas. Damn it. If someone found it there, this would be the end. The wedding date was engraved inside the ring, and every Falcone would put two and two together and go on a vendetta. I had to call Greta as soon as possible and warn her.
“Amo!”
I focused on Cressida. “I must have lost it during the last torture session. I’ll go looking for it when I return to the warehouse.”
Cressida’s mouth pinched. “I don’t want to know what you do for work. It’s distasteful.”
I cocked a brow. “My distastefulness makes sure you always have the newest stuff from Louis Vuitton and Balenciaga.”
Cressida didn’t want to be reminded of my darkness. She wanted to pretend. Our whole marriage was pretend.
“I hope you don’t think I’ll have sex with you when you’re not even wearing your ring.”
“I’m not here for sex,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’m here for our weekly play-pretend date night so people think we actually share some kind of bond.”
Anger flared up in her eyes. I wasn’t sure why this made her angry. It was the fucking truth, we both knew it.
She stepped closer and pressed her palm to my crotch. “You don’t want sex?”
I grasped her wrist. “Let go.”
She laughed as if this was some kind of game. I shoved her hand away. The idea of being intimate with her appalled me. Not because Cressida wasn’t an attractive woman. She was, from a solely physical viewpoint, but I didn’t desire her. And now that I’d been intimate with Greta, I wouldn’t touch another woman.
Fuck. I almost laughed at the irony.
“What man doesn’t want to have sex?”
“I want sex but not with you.”
She smiled harshly. “Then go to your whores. I don’t care. I have everything I desire.”
I gritted my teeth. Rage bubbled right under the surface. But Cressida was a woman and my wife, so I used every ounce of self-control I possessed and reined it in.
“So where are we going for dinner tonight? I hope you made a reservation at this new 3 Michelin star place in the Mandarin Oriental. It’s impossible to get a table if you don’t book at least six weeks in advance and then the slots fill within a minute. I told my friends you could get a table there whenever you want.”
“Of course,” I said. “We have a table from eight to ten.”
“They actually dared to squeeze us into a time slot? And you let them?”
I had actually asked for a slot. They would probably have given me the table for the entire night, even if that meant cancelling three bookings of other people that night. But the idea of spending more than two hours with Cressida, especially in public, when we had to pretend we had something to say to each other was absolutely unbearable. “I have work to do tonight. Two hours is enough for six courses.”
She didn’t say anything but her expression made it clear that she was very unhappy.
“Are you ready to go?” I asked. It was 7:45 and I wanted to get this over with.
Cressida gave me a challenging smile. “You know what? I don’t feel this outfit anymore. I’ll go change. I’m sure they won’t mind if we arrive late. Then they can just give us the table for the rest of the evening.”
“We’re leaving now,” I said in a low voice.
She met my gaze then lowered her eyes quickly and gave a shrug before she stalked past me toward the door. Outside she held out her hand and I took it even if my body revolted against it as I led her to my car, opened the door for her and then took my place behind the steering wheel.
Every second in Cressida’s company felt like my personal version of hell. I felt this even more now that I’d spent the night with Greta, my fucking wish for heaven.
When I drove through the gates of Greta’s animal sanctuary three weeks later, I felt as if I had hibernated and was slowly waking up. I’d been busy with work and only seen Cressida one more time in private after our very stiff date night and one time at dinner with her parents, which had been an even worse experience than being alone with my wife.
My mother had been picking up that something was different and had tried to question me during our weekly family dinner. And Marcella, she was a blood hound on a trail. She knew too much. It was a good thing that Maximus was wrapped up in his own problems or he would probably have joined forces with my sister to figure out what was going on.