Married Into The Mafia *Undergoing Re-editing*

Two-Faced Bitch

--Ashton--

How do I break this tension?

I snuck a look over to her, not afraid of whether she'll catch me or not.

She was all prettied up. A huge difference from when I last saw her fatigued and pale before her visit to the hospital. The maids had picked her a decent and casual-formal dress for this evening that really presented her well.

She'll need it with my family after all...

Her eyes caught mine, and we stared at each other, neither planning to break contact first.

Her gaze was more dead than intense, which was a stark difference from the shyness it contained beforehand. Perhaps her fear of me disappeared with her grief. Though, I doubted that. Once she had realised what type of man I really was, her demeanour grew noticeably tenser. Since then, she had not scowled or talked back to me but perhaps, it was again just the grief sucking her devoid of any energy or of the fire she had before. 

Though I should be relieved by her obedience now, I somehow preferred her when she wasn't completely flat and empty of words to say unless spoken to. 

'Maybe you should be a little nicer to her, you know?'

Despite the situation between us being unfavourable and complicated between us for her, I believe I have been rather benevolent towards her so far. I did not know what I meant to do to improve that. But, if she remains like this, she may actually end up doing something rash.

"You look appropriately dressed. My family likes this type of style," I complimented politely. It was true. 

Her eyes left the empty cup of tea in her hands and looked at me. They were clouded and desolate.

"Thank you," she responded with a dry voice. Her eyes drew away again and continued to stare blandly at the teacup. I nodded and continued to wait expectantly for my family to arrive. Was this enough? Should try to sympathise more? It was quite bleak to see her so disheartened like this. 

"I apologise about the sudden family gathering whilst you're still grieving. But it's tradition to entertain the groom's family for a night after the wedding," I explained, illicitly an even less energetic response from her this time. 

"It's fine. I'm fine now," Eloise said with a dull tone and a hung head. She obviously was not.

"That's good to hear..." The drawing room returned to silence. I took in a deep breath and watched as she slumped against the sofa and stared at the still cup of liquid in her hands. It trickled a stream of uncertainty within my chest. An accumulation of unexplained guilt. Why? It wasn't as though I had ordered the hit on her parents. I was just as taken aback as she was. And, yet, I still felt some responsibility for dragging her into this situation. I cleared my throat and adjusted my tie. Perhaps, I should address that with her. "I would like to apolog-

"You don't need to say it." I cocked an eyebrow and faced her. Her hooded gaze was back onto me again, dead in the eyes. "No apology is worth anything after the damage has already been dealt." 

I stared at her dispassionately.

Ah. I see. She had already placed the blame onto me, to begin with. And, I doubt she has any intentions of forgiving me.

I shouldn't care. It meant nothing to me. I didn't need her approval. I was only doing this for myself, not her. I should not care about her feelings. 

Despite this, I felt the need to defend myself. "Your parents may have raised you well but don't forget they still sold you out in the end because of their own cowardice," I retorted callously and impersonally. If anything, this could have all been avoided if your parents hadn't decided to be so selfish and keep you after they had begun suspecting who you really were. I was just one of the many consequences of the actions of your parents.