Reina de la Muerte

chapter seventeen

♛

gabriel

A week and a half. That's how long it took Vanessa to talk to me.

It was unbearable. I couldn't talk to her, couldn't see her—that bastard Silvio wouldn't even let me in the same fucking hall as her. I expressed that I understood and I was willing to give her time but almost two weeks without a word is ridiculous. She won't even give me a chance to explain myself... Not that I can blame her.

I can tell she hasn't been taking care of herself. She's lost weight, there are bags under her eyes and she can barely hold down the food we're eating. It brings that tight feeling to my chest knowing that I'm the cause of it. She's like this because I couldn't put my pride aside and tell her the truth. I thought hiding the contract would protect her. Instead, I destroyed the relationship we had just started to grow.

I know I fucked up—I'll hold that mistake until the day I die. I'm not going to let her put her health on the line because of it, though, even if she hates me as much as she claims.

I have to stop thinking so fucking depressing.

Ignoring my thoughts, I focus on my drunk wife whose cheeks have turned pink from the amount of champagne she's been hogging. There's a loopy smile across her face but it fades when she catches me staring and blushes, then looks away to start short conversation with the people who greet her.

Just as planned, the two of us are ready in here, Silvio is ready with his sniper rifle two streets down and Vincenzo is in the parking garage with a car in case things escalate. With the gadgets I made for Vanessa, I'm hoping we don't have to spend any long at this boring banquet. All the guests have tried to talk to me about is clientele and hopes of getting something from me.

I know every detail about their lives, families and businesses—it isn't hard to know which people would make great clients and allies and which wouldn't.

Spoiler: none of the good ones have approached yet.

I've been shooing them off so Vanessa's attention can stay on me. I feel miserable when it isn't. Even then, that doesn't stop her from talking to them and ignoring my attempts.

I'm a selfish bastard. I know.

"I'm surprised you aren't wearing that mask of yours," Vanessa mumbles once another couple walks off.

Looks like she's talking to me again. She hasn't said a word since I kissed her, staring off into the distance with her lips pursed when she thinks no one's looking. I'd do it again. Kissing her is one of my favourite things to do and I've fucking missed doing it.

"You noticed," I say.

"Everyone's noticed. It's one of the first things they point out when they come over. You treat that mask like it's your child so what's the deal?"

She faces me and raises an eyebrow, making me look away to stare into my glass.

"I didn't want to," I tell Vanessa.

"You're good at a lot of things but lying isn't one of them."

I chuckle quietly and take one of her glasses before she can down that too. Vanessa barely acknowledges it, still staring, and my lips slowly curl into a smirk. I turn my full attention to her... not that it wasn't already.

I only used the mask to cover my scar. I found it revolting after it healed—I still do, if I'm being honest. Vanessa didn't see it that way with any of my scars. As much as I've denied it, that night she made it easier for me to look at myself in the mirror and not become overcome with overwhelmingly dark thoughts. To me, they're just a reminder of the suffering I had to go through to get them.