Chapter 18 Silvo
SILVO
Club music is loud. She’s probably having fun, lost in conversation with Sophia. Her phone’s probably at the bottom of her purse.
But the rational explanations don’t ease the knot tightening in my chest.
I search the house anyway, checking the library, her favorite sitting room, even the gardens—nothing. Each empty room confirms what I already know: she’s still out.
I find one of the household staff in the hallway. “Have you seen Mrs. De Luca?”
The maid shifts nervously. “She and Miss Sophia left around seven, sir. I heard them mention a club—Inferno, I think?”
My jaw clenches. She’d mentioned wanting a girls’ night out at breakfast, and I’d agreed—told her to have fun, even. But I’d expected her to at least check in, let me know she was okay.
“Thank you,” I dismiss the maid.
I return to my study, the whiskey burning down my throat as I try to calm the protective instincts roaring through me. This morning, she’d asked me to be careful. The concern in her voice had touched something deep inside me. I thought we were finally building real trust.
But trust goes both ways, doesn’t it? And right now, I’m sitting here imagining worst-case scenarios while she’s out there, unreachable.
I pour another drink, the amber liquid catching the lamplight. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe this is exactly what it looks like—me being a possessive bastard who can’t handle his wife having a life outside of him.
But what if something’s wrong? What if she needs me and can’t reach me because her phone died or—
I’m pacing the room when Fed saunters in, taking in my agitated state with one glance.
“Let me guess,” he says, pouring himself a drink. “Carmela’s still out, and you’re losing your mind.”
I shoot him a glare. “It’s past midnight, Fed. She’s not answering her phone.”
Fed raises an eyebrow. “Did you tell her she had to be home by midnight? Give her a curfew?”
“No, but—”
“And girls’ nights at clubs usually run until what, two or three in the morning?” Fed takes a casual sip of his drink. “Seems pretty normal to me.”
“She’s not answering,” I growl, my frustration mounting.
“Club’s probably loud as hell. Phone’s in her purse. She’s dancing, having fun with Sophia—you know, the friend she hasn’t seen since moving across the country for you.” Fed’s tone is pointed but not cruel. “This is what normal people do, Silvo.”
I stare into my whiskey glass. “I just... what if something happens to her? What if she’s in danger and I’m not there?”
“That’s fear talking, not logic.” Fed leans forward. “You’ve got a security detail on her, right?”
I nod. “Tony’s been tailing them at a distance.”
“Then she’s fine. She’s just having fun with her friend.
Something she probably hasn’t done since being forced to move across the country.
” Fed’s expression softens. “Look, I know you care about her. Hell, anyone with eyes can see you’re falling for her.
But if you want to keep her, you have to trust her. Really trust her, not just say you do.”
I stare into my whiskey glass, seeing my distorted reflection. He’s right. This isn’t about Carmela betraying my trust—it’s about my own fear of losing control, of losing her.
“So what do you suggest?” I ask grudgingly.
Fed grins. “Call Tony, verify she’s safe. Then either you stay here and wait like a normal husband, or we go to Inferno. But not to drag her home—just to make sure she’s okay. Have a drink, keep our distance unless there’s actual trouble. Show her you respect her independence.”
I consider it, then pull out my phone and dial Tony. He answers on the second ring.
“Boss?”
“Status report. Is Carmela safe?”
“Completely safe, boss. She and her friend are at Inferno, been there for a few hours. Dancing, drinking, having a good time. No problems, no unwanted attention. I’ve got eyes on them the whole time.”
Relief floods through me, loosening the tension in my shoulders. “Any issues at all?”
“None. They’re having fun. Sophia’s keeping close to her, and they’ve stayed in the main room where it’s crowded and well-lit. Mrs. De Luca’s having a good time—lots of laughing, dancing. She’s safe.”
“Good. Keep watching. And Tony? If anything changes—”
“You’ll be the first call. I got this, boss.”
I hang up and turn to Fed. “She’s safe. Having fun.”
“See? Crisis averted.” Fed raises his glass. “Now you can either sit here and brood, or we can head over there. Not to control her, just to... be present. Maybe have a drink ourselves.”
I consider it. “And if she sees me there?”
“Then you smile, tell her you and I decided to grab a drink, and you’re glad she’s having fun.
You keep your distance unless she needs you.
” Fed’s expression turns serious. “This is the test, brother. Can you be the man who trusts his wife, or are you going to be the one who proves all her fears right?”
The words hit home. I remember this morning—the vulnerability in her eyes when she said she was scared of losing herself. My promise that I’d never let that happen.
“Okay,” I say finally. “We go. But we stay back unless there’s trouble.”
“Now you’re thinking straight,” Fed says with approval.
I grab my jacket and follow him to the door. This isn’t about dragging Carmela home or asserting dominance. This is about proving I meant what I said—that I trust her, that I won’t try to control her.
Even when every instinct screams at me to lock her away where she’s safe.
Climbing into my sports car, I turn over the engine, trying to calm the protective instincts still roaring through me. This is about her safety, I tell myself. And about proving I can give her the freedom she needs.
I grip the steering wheel as I weave through the city streets, Fed beside me watching the road.
“You good?” he asks.
“I will be once I see she’s safe with my own eyes,” I mutter.
“Just remember—we’re there for a drink. Not a rescue mission. Not a confrontation.” Fed’s voice is firm. “You go in there acting like a possessive asshole, and you’ll undo everything good that’s happened between you two.”
“I know,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’ll keep my distance. Unless there’s a problem.”
Fed nods, seemingly satisfied. “Good. Because Carmela’s finally opening up to you. Don’t fuck it up by proving you’re exactly the controlling bastard she was afraid you’d be.”
I take a sharp turn, the tires gripping the pavement. His words echo what I’ve been thinking all night.
“I’m not trying to control her. I’m trying to protect her. There’s a difference.”
“Is there? Because sometimes they look the same from the outside.” Fed’s voice is gentler now, not mocking. “You’ve fallen for her, Silvo. Hard. And that terrifies you because you can’t control feelings. You can’t strategize love.”
I grip the wheel tighter, his words settling over me like a heavy blanket. He’s right. I am scared. Scared that the woman I’m falling in love with will wake up one day and realize she deserves better than an arranged marriage to someone like me.
“So what do I do?” I ask quietly.
“You trust her. You let her have tonight with her friend. And when you see her in that club, you prove that you meant what you said about respecting who she is.”
I nod slowly, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. “Okay. We check that she’s safe, have a drink, then we leave her alone unless she needs us.”
“Good plan,” Fed says with approval.
As we pull up outside Inferno, the bass thumping through the walls, I take a deep breath. Fed’s right. This is a test—not of Carmela, but of me. Whether I can be the man worthy of her, or just another controlling bastard trying to cage a wild bird.
I’m about to find out which one I really am.