My husband tilts his head to the side and looks at me as if he’s trying to parse me out. “I thought you were having fun.”
“I was. Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
Because you’re obviously in pain and I can’t have fun knowing you are hurting. But I don’t say it, of course.
“I promised Asya I’d phone her at five tonight,” I lie. “We should get going right away so I don’t miss making that call on time.”
The corner of Drago’s lips lifts just a smidge. “But you have your phone with you. You can make a call from here. Or while we’re driving back.”
“Um . . . I prefer making my phone calls in private.” I shoot him a beaming smile. “It’s about girls’ stuff.”
“Mm-hmm. Or maybe it’s not your sister you need to call?”
My hand stills midstroke. Had someone overheard me calling the don yesterday
