Something like guilt flickered across Omero's face. His right hand moved to the inside of his left wrist, pressing hard against the pulse point for just a moment before he gathered me into his arms, my body limp as a threadbare rag. "I'm sorry, Penny. It's not that I didn't want to help you, but Chloe Volpe is carrying the Valente heir. I couldn't afford the delay..."
I gritted my teeth against the pain and pulled myself free of his embrace. I shook my head. "It's fine. You were up all night, Omero. Go rest."
His hands hung frozen in the air where I'd been. His voice came out scraped raw. "Are you angry with me, Penny?"
I closed my eyes. My answer was flat, toneless. "This outsider wouldn't dare."
"Outsider?"
Omero caught the shift instantly. He stared at me as though I'd spoken a foreign language.
Before, I had always called myself "your wife" in his presence.
Now I'd changed the word. The line between us, drawn clean.
"Yes. This outsider was born lowly. From the old neighborhood. Naturally, I can't be compared to the Don's daughter-in-law. So you did the right thing, Omero. This outsider wouldn't dare hold it against you."