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I will never get enough of him. Of this.

He pulls away, his eyes shining with a warmth I’m addicted to now. I want to be able to spark that light in his eyes every single chance I get. For a moment, the world falls away, and all that exists is me and him.

I once read that some people in this world feel like sunshine. That’s what Matteo feels like to me. He is the light in my pit of darkness. It’s ironic, seeing as he has a lot of darkness that surrounds him.

“Get some rest, I instructed Emily to make something light for you.” He smiles and then presses his lips on mine once again. “I will see you at home for dinner in three hours.”

“No more than that,” I repeat his words from earlier. I dare to reach up and cup his cheek. “I will see you later.”

He seems reluctant to leave but he pulls away just as Tony settles into the car after having put my bags in the back. Matteo’s eyes cut to my guard and then back to me.

“Ciao, my love.” He shuts the door before I can say anything, and I watch him leave.

My heart does these little flip-flop motions in my chest, and I have to forcefully push those feelings down. This will take some getting used to.

The ride home is quiet, thankfully. I am in no mood to speak. I reply to a few messages from my mama and Ginny, who have been on my case about communicating. I heard the incident between Ginny and my husband. I know she knows that what happened to me was not her fault, but I can tell from our interactions that a small fraction of her feels guilty.

“Here we are, Mrs. Davacalli.” Tony opens the front door for me. I walk into the foyer and I wait to feel the warmth of being home, but it never comes. “Home sweet home.”

Yeah. Home sweet home.

Emily is already waiting for me in the foyer, her usual polite smile in place. “Welcome home, Mrs. Davacalli,” she says warmly, stepping forward to take my bag from Tony. “I’ve got it.”

“No, no, I’ve got it.” Tony moves his hand from her grasp. “Mrs. Davacalli is your main concern. The boss said we need to keep her off her feet and make sure she eats so she can take her meds.”

Emily stills for half a second, something flickering across her face—surprise, maybe even frustration—but she masks it well. I almost don’t notice it. Almost.

Tony heads upstairs without another word, and I am left with Emily.

“Mrs. Davacalli, please come to the couch. I will make you some tea or soup to help ease.” Emily takes me by the arm and leads me toward the sunken living room. “It’s good to see that you are alive and well.”

“Yeah, thank you. I don’t know what happened. They said I was being poisoned.” I shake my head. “I don’t know where the damn poison could have come from, but thank God I got to the hospital in time.”

Emily helps me to settle on the couch. “Yes, we thank the heavens. I was praying for you. For a moment, I feared you would leave us—just like the first Mrs. Davacalli.”

I didn’t miss the way that she said the word, the first. There was a subtle emphasis to it.

Emily places a blanket on top of my body and my body relaxes into the expensive material. I want to pretend that my body is back to its regular form, but after all the hospital poking and prodding, I am still worn down.

“Thank you, Emily.”

She smiles. “Of course. Shall I bring you your calming tea?”

I shake my head, my mouth already opening to yawn. “No, thank you. I just want to sleep right now. Maybe when I wake up.”

She inclines her head, a gesture she hasn’t done for a while. “Okay, please rest. Mr. Davacalli wants you healed in record time.”

Her voice already fades into a distant echo as the fatigue draws me deeper into her darkness. The last nine days have been nothing short of a blur. The hours bled into each other, but one thing remained constant—my husband.

He’s so attentive and present now. But there is also another thing that still lingers in the back of my mind—Daniele. His words still echo like a resounding gong in the back of my mind. He came out of nowhere with a warning I didn’t understand.

I should let it go. But I am yet to bring it up with my husband. And there is a part of me that doesn’t want to bring it up, for fear of what those answers will reveal. But I know that, eventually, I will need to address what is going on.

I wake up to the flickering glow of the television and the comforting weight of the blanket draped over me. The scent of something warm and rich lingers in the air; it’s spicy and smells just like curry. My stomach immediately responds to the scents.

Food.

I stretch my arms and look out the window to find that the day has melted into the night, and the sun is gone.