Silent Lies (Perfectly Imperfect #8)

She lifts a pair of running shoes. The sole is white, but they do have a colorful pattern on the sides. I take one out of the clerk’s raised hand to have a better look. It’s a bunch of small multicolored rabbits.

“Perfect.” I gather the clothes and the other shoe and return to my wife.

The instant Sienna sees the stuff I’m carrying, she runs over to grab the lot and dashes into the nearby changing room. I lean my shoulder on the sidewall of the fitting room across from Sienna’s and watch her feet through the gap between the floor and the door. She is hopping around on one leg while putting on the sweatpants. A small smile pulls at my lips. I don’t remember the last time I was so amused by someone. For years, work has been the only exhilarating thing filling my otherwise mundane days. Not anymore. Now, the little hellion with crazy clothes and mischievous grin has been occupying most of my attention.

Fascinated. Yes, I’m completely fascinated with my sparkling wife, and I’ll be damned if I know why. She’s too young, eccentric, constantly smiling, and sunny to a disturbing level. The thing is, I don’t like cheerful people. No one can be happy all the time. If they act that way, they are either stupid or pretending. And if there is one thing I’m one hundred percent certain about, it’s that my sparkling little wife is far from stupid. Even if the way she acts can easily convince people otherwise. But it’s they who are the fools for not seeing what is so clear to me.

The door creaks open to reveal Sienna in that hideous lavender outfit. I don’t understand how she can look so beautiful wearing such idiotic clothes. She grins at me, lifts her phone, and snaps a selfie while pursing her lips at the camera.

“Are you posting that to social media?” I ask.

“Of course. Why?”

“No reason.” As soon as I get back home, I’m instructing Mirko to do something with her social media accounts. He hacks government sites on a regular basis, so he must know some way to hide Sienna’s images. No one is allowed to salivate over my wife’s pictures except me. Yesterday morning, while Sienna was still sleeping, I snapped a quick shot of her in bed with my phone. I’m still not sure why I did that.

On our way to the checkout area, we pass through the home decor section where two long shelves are stacked with different trinkets—dry flowers, glass figurines, photo frames, and other similar items. Sienna stops in front of a bowl filled with marbles in various colors. An excited squeal leaves her lips as she stares at the glass and runs her fingers through the glossy orbs. It’s been a long time since I was as thrilled about anything as she seems to be over a handful of stupid glass pearls. I swear, this woman must have been a crow in her past life to be so captivated by shiny things. It’s impossible not to be allured by her. A strange warm feeling spreads through my chest as I watch my wife being so happy, and I yearn to see more of that pure joy.

Even though I know she’s been lying to me from the start.

* * *

“We’ll take the path among the trees,” I say as I close the car door after Sienna. “Let’s go.”

“So, you were serious about jogging?”

“I don’t joke often, Sienna. Come on. Go ahead of me. Just follow the path.”

“Why don’t you lead?”

“I want you in my sight so you can’t sneak back inside when I’m not looking.”

Her shoulders sag, but she turns away and starts jogging toward the trees. I follow a few feet behind, matching her pace while ogling her sweet ass in those snug sports pants. That’s one of the reasons why I insisted she goes first down the trail. The other, I wouldn’t notice if she says something behind me.

As we are passing by a stretch of lawn where Beli is raking the leaves, Sienna stops and says something to him. Someone should have warned her that the old son of a bitch is antisocial and never talks to people. I linger a few steps to the side, making it look like I’m stretching my hamstrings as I watch the exchange between my wife and the gardener. I have never witnessed him crack a smile, so seeing him burst out laughing and hold up a thumb is incredible. Sienna waves at him and carries on.

“What did she say?” I ask when I approach the old grump.

“Your wife found me a new spot.”

“A spot? For what?”

“For my lilies.” He smiles and resumes raking the leaves.

I shake my head and continue on my run to catch up with my ray-of-sunshine wife, who is jogging in place thirty yards down the path. She’s chatting with Relja. Who should be on the guard shift right now and doing his rounds, damn it! He sees me coming, turns on his heel, and rushes off in the direction of the gate.

“Don’t distract my men while they’re on duty.”

Sienna tilts her head up and narrows her eyes at me. “You’re really grumpy, you know. It’s kind of . . . cute.”

“I’ve been called a lot of names, Sienna”—I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her into my body—“but cute is not one of them.”

I can feel her every breath as her chest rises and falls. Her lips are slightly parted, taunting me. I don’t have much restraint left, and the need to make her mine is driving me crazy. Even despite her constant lies since the moment she set foot in my house, and probably before that, too. I let a spy into my home, but the most fucked up thing about this whole situation is—I don’t regret it.

I wonder . . . Where did she learn Serbian?

Though I’ve been closely observing her from the moment she arrived, it took me more than a week to realize that little fact. It happened by accident during dinner a few days ago. Everyone was laughing at a joke while Keva was running around placing bowls of food on the table. Milo, one of the soldiers, stretched out his hand, asking someone to pass him the mashed potatoes. My wife smiled and handed him the bowl while still giggling over the punch line. And Milo doesn’t speak English. I don’t think she even noticed her mistake.

Ajello obviously knew Sienna could speak Serbian or he wouldn’t have picked her. That scheming son of a bitch. No wonder half of the criminal underworld wants him dead. The question is, what should I do with my sparkling little Cosa Nostra spy? Should I kill her quickly, or should I make her suffer?