~05~

Carmela's pov~

The dining room is too big for two people. All that marble, all that crystal — none of it makes this feel less like a cage.

I'm already seated when he walks in. He doesn't say hello. I don't either. He just takes his place at the other end of the table, pulls out the chair like he owns the whole damn house — which, technically, he does now.

We don't look at each other for the first few minutes. I focus on cutting my steak into perfect bites I don't even taste. I can feel his eyes on me anyway. He thinks he's subtle. He's not.

I break first. "You're quiet tonight. Cat got your tongue, or are you trying to intimidate me?"

He lifts his eyes, takes a slow sip of wine. His tie is loose, sleeves rolled up just enough to show strong forearms and his big ass biceps — a detail I hate myself for noticing.

"Just enjoying the peace," he says, tone flat. "It's the only time I'll get it with you around, I assume."

I set my fork down, leaning back in my chair. "You think you're stuck with me. I feel the same way, trust me."

His mouth twitches — not a smile exactly, more like he's trying not to. He picks up his whiskey glass instead, rolling it between his fingers. He likes whiskey. It suits him — strong, sharp, no sweetness at all.

For a second, the smell mixes with my perfume — vanilla, warm, clean. It shouldn't fit here, but it does. I see him notice it too, even if he pretends not to.

"Do you always wear that?" he asks suddenly.

I blink. "My perfume?"

He just nods.

I shrug, acting bored. "Maybe. Why?"

"Nothing," he says, looking away. He tosses back the rest of his whiskey and sets the glass down a little too hard.

"Is it a problem?" I push. I can't help myself. "Do I offend your delicate senses?"

He looks at me again, eyes steady, cool. "It doesn't suit this house."

"Neither do I," I shoot back, too fast.

Silence. We just sit there, holding each other's stare across a table loaded with food neither of us wants. I can feel the tension in my shoulders, my jaw. He's the same — tense under the suit, but trying to look like he's fine with this. He's not.

I sigh, breaking the stare first. I pick up my wine glass, swirl it once, and say, "This is stupid. We don't have to like each other, but we don't have to act like we're at war either."

He doesn't answer right away. His eyes drop to my mouth, just for a second. He probably doesn't even realize he does it. It makes my skin warm in a way I hate.

He leans back, folds his arms across his chest. "We are at war," he says, calm but certain. "We just can't afford to lose."

I laugh — short, dry. "At least you're honest."

He almost smiles again, but stops himself. He stands first, pushing back his chair. For a second he just stands there, watching me like he wants to say something real. He doesn't.

"Enjoy your dinner," he says instead, voice low but not cruel. "Don't wait up."

And then he's gone, leaving me there with cold steak, warm vanilla, and this stupid feeling that I'd rather fight him than anyone else in the world.

******

A/N

i tried to make her a bit more confident. but anyways i will update on sundays, thursdays and saturdays~