Page 107 of The Viper's Wife

When we’re both spent, he drapes himself over me for what feels like hours, and murmurs to me how much he loves me, as I stare up at the ceiling and wonder how I can love a man who doesn’t even know what love is.

20

VALERIA

We don’t goto lunch with Alessia and my friends.

Nico waits outside the curtain while I clean myself with tissues and fight the satisfying ache between my legs. My thoughts are a dull thrum at the back of my mind.

I don’t bother to fix my lipstick or hair. I yank on my shirt and jeans and wrap myself in my coat.

When I step out from the curtain, Nico extends his hand out for mine. I walk past him without acknowledgement.

He leads me to his car—a new, black SUV that I’ve never seen before. Maybe it was a bribe, or he stole it, but I find that I don’t care.

He opens the door for me, his gaze searing against my face as I step into the passenger seat.

My phone buzzes, and I pull it out, expecting a message from Lacey or Mei.

My brother’s name pops up.

Stefano

I’m sorry things got out of hand. Are you okay? Please talk to me.

I turn my phone off and tuck it into my pocket. All of the shit men in my life are coming out of the woodwork today.

“Who was that?” Nico asks as he starts the engine.

“No one,” I say.

“Val—”

“I’m tired,” I say, tightening my coat around my shoulders. “I don’t want to talk.”

He doesn’t breathe a word for the rest of the trip.

In the parking deck of his apartment, I’m out and striding to the lobby before he’s even fully stopped the car.

He’s hot on my heels all the way to the elevator. I jab the call button and go to cross my arms, but he grabs my wrist. I wrench my hand out of his.

“Val,” he says in a warning tone.

A family of four stepping off the elevator gawks at us before the mom rushes them along.

I glare at him. “Val,Val, is that all you can say? How about anactualfucking apology?”

“For what? For loving you?”

I stomp into the elevator and fold my arms over my chest, squeezing against the catch in my lungs at hearing him say that.

Every time I think we’re moving forward, that we’ve made some progress, he goes and ruins it all. I don’t care how hard I came in the boutique—he can’t just fuck his way through every insecurity. That’s not how a healthy couple works through a problem.Wearen’t healthy.

He presses the elevator button, and the doors close.

“You don’t know what love is,” I say, staring forward. He never will.

All of his blurry reflections in the silver walls stare at me.