Chapter 4: His Thumb on the Pulse

The first infusion was that afternoon, and by the time we got home from the reception the nausea had started.

I made it up the stairs in my wedding dress and locked the bathroom door behind me.

I was on my knees in front of the toilet with pins from Fiorenza's hem digging into my legs when somebody knocked.

"Nora."

"Go away."

"You've been in there twenty minutes."

"I'm fine. Go to bed."

The door clicked.

I hadn't known a lock could be opened from outside with a coin.

Matteo stood in the doorway with the coin in his hand.

He looked at me, and he put it in his pocket.

"The key's inside," I said. "That was the deal."

"You said no touching. You didn't say no doors."

I would have argued, but my stomach turned over again.

He knelt on the tile beside me, gathered my hair in one hand and held it back.

I was sick again.

He didn't say anything. His other hand rested flat between my shoulder blades, and it didn't move.

When it was over he reached past me, wet a washcloth and handed it to me, and I pressed it to my mouth.

"Don't look at me," I said.

"I'm not looking at your face. I'm looking at the wall."

He was telling the truth. He was looking at the wall tile, steadily, with his jaw set.

I sat back on my heels, and he let go of my hair.

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Moretti Daughter They Denied from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.