Mancini's POV
I watched her walk away without looking back. Just like that. Without permission. I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. She knew what she was doing. She always knew how to make me look weak in front of people. I clenched my jaw, forcing a small smile when I turned and saw Patricia still sitting there, swirling the remaining drops of wine in her glass.
She looked worried. She was looking from me to the hallway where Marie had gone.
"She just left," she said quietly. "Does she… does she always walk away like that?"
I laughed. "Walk away? No. Maybe she's- she's- I don't know. She's tired," I said, feigning sadness. I started to pace a little, making sure there was a sad expression on my face.
"Maybe you should go too. She will be upset if you're still here," I said.
Patricia stood and came close to me.
"'Mancini, it's your house. Why would she be upset? And I'm her friend," she said.
