“Look I get you’re not happy with me, but the silent treatment is a little juvenile, isn’t it?” Ugo muttered as he fiddled with his tie in the reflection of the driver’s mirror.
“I’m not mad at you,” I murmured from a million miles away.
“You’re something.” He let out a long breath and settled back down into his seat. “Because two nights ago you had your hands up ready to fight whoever, and now you’re here but not really.”
“I’m just processing.”
“Are you purposely trying to act aloof?”
He shook his head at me as I went back to staring out the window and watched as the raindrops hit then stretched out thin against the glass.
We were heading to dinner with the uncles at a very posh club in town. They’d asked me to join them so I could be introduced to their American clients. I knew the
