Delilah:
The moment I stepped into the study, I knew something was wrong.
Actually, it was the moment that I walked inside the house, when I noticed the tension within the house and when I was told that he was waiting for me in his office.
The maids avoided eye contact. The air was heavier than usual, thick with something more than silence. Giovanni stood by the window, his back to me, glass in hand, but he wasn’t drinking. That was never a good sign.
“You called for me?” I said, carefully.
He turned slowly. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, were darker today. Devoid of patience. Devoid of the charm he often wore like a second skin. I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest as I looked at him. I refused to allow him to see me as weak. I refused to allow him to think that he c
