Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
After leaving my father’s house, I lose hours in my office trying to work, but I’m too distracted.
I need to make sense of the situation, but I can’t.
Well, that’s not exactly true.
I can make sense of it, but I don’t want to admit it. Because every time I try to untangle the facts, they always lead me back to the same conclusion.
I was wrong.
But admitting I was wrong leaves me with a fuck load of mess to clean up.
By the time I leave the office, it’s late, and the sky is bruised with storm clouds. Having sent Mateo home for the night, I drive through the streets as raindrops hit the windshield and lightning bolts hit the city. I have no real destination in mind. I just need to drive and untangle the mess in my head.
Bella is already in bed when I let myself into the penthouse. I strip out of my clothes and step into the shower, taking my time to wash the sins of the day off my body. But no matter how hard I soap up my skin, the stench of truth doesn’t leave me.
My quest for vengeance has been time misspent.
Out of the shower, I dry off and climb into bed naked, seeking the warmth of my wife’s body for comfort.
I pull her closer.
Her lips are gentle against mine as she kisses me sleepily.
Another truth I realized today.
My wife is an angel.
If only she’d never married the devil.
38
Bella
The next day, I meet Imogen for lunch at a luxurious restaurant in Manhattan called the Bird Cage, known around the world for its elegant high tea and exceptional fine dining.
Her eyes light up when she sees me walk into the crowded restaurant wearing a short skirt and fitted jacket, matched with a pair of limited-edition Louboutin heels. “Wowza, Bella.” Her gaze does another pass over my outfit. “You look sensational.”
I beam a smile her way. “You like?”
“Oh, I like… I like very much. You always had a cool bohemian style going on, but this is something else.” She stands up and makes me turn around. “Boy, I wanna be you when I grow up.”
Once we’re settled at the table, Imogen gives me a warm, genuine smile. “You really do look good, Bella. I haven’t seen you this happy in a long time. I was kinda worried you’d struggle with it, but marriage to Nico clearly suits you.”
I look at her over my menu. “Well, I haven’t murdered him yet, so that’s a good start.”
She gives me a suspicious smile. “I bet you’re having lots of yummy sex.”
“We fight more than anything.”
“Okay, lots of yummy makeup sex, then.” She sighs. “Next, you’ll be popping out the most beautiful babies.”
The sudden thought of giving Nico a baby sends butterflies loose in my stomach. But the excitement dampens just as quickly because how could I bring a child into this life of continual surveillance and potential danger? As if drawn there by instinct, my gaze shifts to James across the restaurant, his back rigid, his shoulders square. Every inch of him on alert and ready to protect me from Nico’s enemies.
It’s one thing for me to be swept up in the glamour and excitement of the Mafia world, but to raise a child with possible threats hiding in every shadowy corner is another.
Not to mention that this is a business deal only.
Okay, business with benefits.
Okay, business with lots of really good benefits.
But that’s as far as it goes.
Although, we haven’t exactly been smart with protection. I’m on the pill, but I’ve missed a few days here and there.
Maybe he’s already planted the seed.
My stomach tightens.
Could I already be pregnant?
An excited tingle snaps and crackles at the base of my spine like popping candy. But I ignore it. Best not to get excited about things that can never happen.
“No, babies are not a part of this contract,” I say, pouring us both a glass of water.
She pouts. “Pity. You two would make deliciously beautiful babies.”
And there I go again, getting excited about being pregnant with Nico’s baby.
I clear my throat as I push the ridiculous notion to the back of my mind.
That’s when I hear a familiar shrill across the restaurant.
“Bella—Bella Isle Ciccula, is that you?”
Amélie appears at our table in a cloud of expensive perfume and floaty red Valentino. Immediately, the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
“It’s Bella De Kysa now,” I correct her.
Her smile tips just a little. “Of course, congratulations on your nuptials. They were quite the affair. I was surprised I didn’t receive an invitation, but I suppose it’s understandable, really, given the type of relationship we used to have.”
Imogen’s expression darkens while mine remains unaffected by Amélie’s dig.
I plaster a smile on my face. “I’m glad you didn’t take offense.”
She laughs and waves it off.