The soft murmur of conversation filled the spacious living room as Emilia stepped inside, her footsteps muted against the polished wooden floor. Gia settled beside her husband with an easy familiarity, while Jaz had already claimed the seat next to hers.
Emilia’s gaze briefly flickered to Santo, who stood rigid, deliberately avoiding eye contact. It was clear he was trying not to acknowledge her presence, yet a subtle shift suggested he was aware of the unspoken tension threading between them.
After a moment, Emilia moved toward the lone chair, but Santo’s abrupt clearing of his throat stopped her. He took a step to the right, silently creating space, yet his eyes darted everywhere but toward her.
“Aren’t you going to sit, Emilia?” Jaz’s voice was gentle, almost coaxing, breaking the fragile silence.
She hesitated, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear before lowering herself onto the couch beside Santo. “Yeah,” she replied softly, the word barely carrying conviction.
The air between them remained taut, thick with yesterday’s argument and the brittle remnants of their earlier exchange. Neither seemed eager to bridge the gap, their shared discomfort palpable to the others.
“Emilia, this is my husband, Dante,” Jaz introduced, gesturing toward the man seated by her side. Dante’s warm smile and casual demeanor contrasted with Santo’s cold formality, and Emilia sensed an effortless ease between the two.
“Nice to meet you,” Dante said with a nod, his voice sincere and inviting.
Gia followed suit, proudly indicating her partner. “This is Tommaso.”
Tommaso met Emilia’s gaze confidently, his smile broad and welcoming, instantly putting the group at ease.
Emilia’s eyes involuntarily flicked back to Santo, who seemed swallowed by his own thoughts. The group noticed his withdrawal and shifted their attention toward him.
“Brother, you with us?” Dante’s tone was light but concerned.
Santo’s lips pressed into a thin line before he muttered with bitterness, “I should’ve ended him sooner. He ruined everything.”
Dante sighed, frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I told you not to kill him. We could have used him as bait to draw them out.”
Jaz, sensing the heaviness, brightened the mood by producing two bottles of alcohol. “Enough with the business talk. Let’s have some fun!”
A conspiratorial glance passed between Jaz and Gia, their eyes sparkling with mischief that left the others curious and slightly uneasy.
“Since Santo has finally tied the knot,” Gia announced with a playful grin, “how about we finally play that ‘Never Have I Ever’ game?”
Santo’s immediate, flat refusal cut through the room. “No.”
“Oh, come on, Santo,” Jaz implored, her tone coaxing. “It’ll be fun.”
Tommaso chuckled knowingly. “Unless you’re worried your wife might spill all the secrets of your so-called ‘relationship’?”
Santo scoffed, his dark eyes flashing. “I’m not scared of anything. You’re all just acting like children.”
Everyone turned expectantly to Emilia. “What about you? Want to join in the fun?”
Before she could answer, Santo interjected, his voice low and possessive. “She’s too young for this childish game.”
Emilia’s fingers clenched into fists at the dismissive words, her resolve hardening. Turning toward him, eyes blazing, she declared, “No, I want to play.”
Her boldness caught Santo off guard, and she saw a flicker of surprise in his gaze before he nodded curtly. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Jaz’s enthusiasm bubbled over as she popped the cap from one of the bottles, pouring the amber liquid into their glasses. “The rules are simple. If you haven’t done it, take a drink.”
“And if you have?” Emilia asked, curiosity piqued.
Jaz grinned wickedly. “Then you and your spouse have to kiss.”
Emilia’s heart hammered as Santo’s eyes found hers, a faint, challenging smile tugging at his lips. “You ready for this, wife?”
An instant regret shot through her veins, but she forced herself to stay composed, turning to face forward.
“Let’s start easy,” Jaz said, raising her glass. “Never have I ever been married.”
One by one, the couples exchanged kisses, laughter bubbling around the room. Yet neither Emilia nor Santo made a move, their silence speaking volumes.
Santo took a measured sip of his drink, avoiding Emilia’s gaze.
“Come on, Santo,” Jaz chided, amused but firm. “If you’re not going to play, maybe we should stop.”
Clearing her throat, Emilia leaned toward him and pressed a light, deliberate kiss to his lips.
He watched her intently, his expression unreadable.
“Does that count?” she murmured.
Jaz nodded approvingly. “I think so.”
“Never have I ever had sex with my spouse,” Dante blurted confidently, causing Emilia’s cheeks to flush as she looked down.
“You two are newlyweds; we all know the truth,” Tommaso teased, raising his glass.
Emilia reached for her drink reflexively, but before she could sip, Santo’s arms encircled her waist, pulling her close.
His lips descended upon hers with unexpected gentleness, igniting a fire that spread through her. Initially startled, her eyes widened, but gradually she closed them, matching his rhythm.
The kiss deepened, warmth radiating between them as they moved in tandem, a silent dance of rediscovery and hesitant intimacy.
Though inexperienced, Emilia felt an unexpected comfort in his guidance, the steady pressure of his hands, the slow, deliberate pace. This was no fleeting peck—it was a connection, fragile yet undeniable.
Santo broke away, turning his back to the group.
“Told you, they’re not fooling anyone,” Tommaso remarked with a knowing grin.
Jaz sighed wistfully. “I wish we could be like that again.”
Dante snapped his head toward her, displeased. “What do you mean? Don’t you think we still are?”
Emilia glanced at Santo, who seemed to have retreated into a private world, the brief spark of tenderness extinguished.
She reached out, intending to touch his arm, but before contact could be made, he stood abruptly.
“I’m done with this ridiculous game,” he declared, voice sharp.
“Santo—” Jaz began, but he cut her off.
“Dante, I want those files on my desk by tomorrow,” he ordered before striding toward the door.
The room was thick with awkward silence in his wake.
“Well, you heard the boss,” Tommaso broke the tension, nodding toward Dante. “Better get to work. Maybe it’s time for us to head out.”
Gia smiled warmly as she hugged Emilia goodbye. “Thanks for tonight—and for not thinking I’m a total nightmare.”
Emilia smiled through a pang of pain and returned the embrace.
Jaz shook her head as Emilia handed her the half-empty bottles. “Keep these. You’ll need more than two to survive marriage to Santo Valentino. That man is stubborn as hell.”
Emilia chuckled softly, the humor brittle beneath her breath.
Dante remained behind, his expression somber as he prepared to leave. “Santo’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I need you to try to make him happy.”
Emilia frowned, conflicted. “Dante, I don’t—”
He shook his head, desperation flickering in his eyes. “You don’t get it. I haven’t seen him truly smile in months. He barely talks about anything other than work. The Santo I know would never marry just anyone. He’s crazy about you.”
“Dante—”
“Please,” he begged quietly.
With a long sigh, Emilia nodded. “Okay.”
A wave of relief swept over Dante’s features as he pulled her into a brief, grateful hug. “Thank you.”
She walked him to the door, and he paused before leaving. “If you ever need anything, I’m here.”
“Goodnight, Dante,” Emilia replied softly, closing the door behind him.
Alone now, she allowed herself a moment to breathe. If she was going to be bound to Santo for life, she might as well try to understand the man hidden beneath the shadows.
Entering their bedroom, Emilia found Santo lying on the bed, his fingers absently stroking the soft fur of their cat, James.
She opened her mouth to comment on the feline’s presence but thought better of it, unwilling to provoke further tension.
After changing into her nightwear, she slipped beneath the covers, turning away from him to guard her vulnerability.
A quiet calm settled between them, only broken when Santo rose to extinguish the lights and gently shoo James from the room.
“Santo?” she ventured tentatively, seeking connection.
Silence responded.
“Why didn’t you tell them about us?”
No answer came, and she resigned herself to the quiet.
Finally, his voice broke the darkness, low and restrained. “I’m tired of them worrying about me.”
He turned away, leaving the question hanging in the air.
Santo remained an enigma—layers of pain and guarded secrets that Emilia yearned to unravel.
In that moment, she realized she was embarking on a new and unexpected journey: to understand the man behind the stoic mask, to discover what shadows darkened his soul, and maybe, just maybe, to bring light back into his life.
A small, bittersweet smile curved her lips as she embraced this daunting challenge, her resolve stronger than ever.