—No, it's not that, it's that I fill up quickly, in reality everything is delicious.

—You barely ate, love. —he intercedes, caressing my cheek, him pretending affection and I controlling the hatred in my eyes.

—Don't worry so much, stop being so protective. —I smile at him.

"You know I worry a lot about you, darling," he declares, putting on this whole show, trying to leave an excellent image of a man who has settled down, who loves a woman, to look good to the Italian. You feel good?

—Yes, I'm perfect. —I move my hand away from its touch on the table.

Later they delve into business, talk about various lands, constructions and projects. I try to bring the thread to the conversation, but I get lost in the pensive tide, the unchecked flood that is already snatching away my center. The reasons why Silvain has been acting so strange tonight is linked to his personal interest, and I dare to swear that there was jealousy at the beginning, annoyance at seeing that Rosellini took out the manl