Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82379 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Lucia?”
I fell into her arms, tears breaking loose, although I couldn’t say exactly why. What would I tell her? How could I explain that I was jealous and hurt? That after all the things he’d done to me, all the things they’d done to me, I wanted him. Because I did. I wanted Salvatore.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
We walked inside and went right into the kitchen.
“Sit down.”
She pulled a chair out and set a box of tissues in front of me. She busied herself making some tea, casting glances my way as I blew my nose and mopped my face, forcing deep breaths in and out, trying to get myself under control. Isabella set a fresh cup of tea in front of me and then took the seat across from mine, taking a sip from her cup.
“What’s happened?”
How much should I tell her? I wasn’t worried about her judging me. I just didn’t want her to think me weak. Or worse, a traitor.
“I’m so confused.” I shook my head, picked up the mug of tea, and stared into the swirling dark liquid.
“Did he hurt you?”
Yes. Oh yes.
I swallowed a sip of tea then faced my sister. “I think he’s having an affair.”
She looked surprised. “Why do you think that?”
“Because we were in the middle of a conversation when he got a text from someone named Natalie and bolted. He was in such a hurry he left his phone behind. I read one of the messages.”
“What did it say?”
“For him to hurry. That she needed him.”
Isabella checked her watch. I went on.
“He just left me there and walked out in the middle of a conversation!”
“Wasn’t Natalie the name of his brother’s wife?”
“What? Dominic’s married?”
“No, Dominic’s not married. Sergio.”
“Oh.” Shit, how had I not remembered that? “He’s having an affair with his dead-brother’s wife?”
“Why are you jumping to that conclusion? It could be anything.”
“Are you defending him?”
She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “I guess I’m trying to figure out why you care.”
I would almost say there was something accusing in the gaze she leveled me with. I rested my elbow on the table and dropped my forehead into my hand. “I don’t fucking know.”
Isabella’s chair scraped away from the table. She got up and went over to her phone on the counter. She typed in what I assumed was a text message then turned back to me. She leaned against the counter and studied me with a strange expression on her face before she walked back over to me and rubbed my back.
“It’s natural, I guess, if you’re stuck living with someone who basically holds your whole life in his hands, to develop some feelings for that person. You’re not in love with him, though.”
I shoved her hand away. “In love? Who said anything about being in love?”
She sat back down. “I’m just saying don’t beat yourself up over it. Good riddance, and hope he is fucking his dead-brother’s wife!”
“Izzy!”
“I’m sorry, that came out cold. The most important thing is that you’re out of there. And you’re not going back.”
“Where’s Effie?” I suddenly realized the little girl wasn’t here.
“She went swimming with her best friend, and they were going to have dinner together after. I should go get her soon.”
“You should have seen Marco’s face when I drove away.”
“I bet that was something.”
“Izzy, I overheard something this morning at Franco Benedetti’s house. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
“What?”
“Salvatore and his father were talking. I’m not sure if Dominic was there or not, but I heard his father say something about taking care of Luke.”
She didn’t seem surprised by what I said.
“They know you’re trying to stir things up, Izzy. You have to be careful.”
“That’s Luke. Not me.”
“Well, then you need to tell him to be careful. What’s going on with you and him, anyway? I saw how he looked at you at the church, and he was here the other day. Are you two having an affair?”
“An affair. It sounds so illicit.” She picked up her teacup and dumped its contents into the sink. “You’re caught up on this affair thing today, aren’t you?” she asked, her back to me.
“Is he Effie’s father, Izzy? Is that why Papa—”
She snorted and looked off to the side. “Luke is not Effie’s father.”
“Who is?”
She turned and met my gaze, her expression cooler. “It’s not important. What is important is figuring out what we’re going to do to keep you away from Salvatore.”
Isabella’s cell phone rang, and she eyed the display. “I have to take this. I’ll be right back.”
She walked out of the kitchen and into the living room, surprising me with her sudden secrecy.
“This isn’t a good time,” I heard her whisper. Then I heard my name before she hung up and returned to the kitchen.
“Who was that?”
“The mom who took Effie swimming.”