There were times when I jumped out of my skin after catching my reflection in the mirror, so Rory had no chance in Hell of recognizing me.
My little tigress would be none the wiser as I worked my way into her life before putting my baby in her belly.
The Bellini Family motto was “debts must always be paid,” and she owed me an heir.
Today was the day. The one where I made contact with my wife, not as Gio Bellini but as John Peach.
I gave myself a little pat on the back for coming up with that pseudonym, which was a play on my real name—Giovanni was the Italian equivalent of John, and a bellini cocktail was peach-flavored. Yes, I ran the risk that Rory would figure it out, but what was life without a little danger? That’s what made it exciting.
Halfway through her shift at the restaurant, I snuck in through the back entrance, concealing myself in an alcove that housed a payphone near the restrooms. Since no one used those anymore, it felt like a safe spot to hide undetected.
Timing was key, so I patiently waited for the perfect moment to initiate our—gag—meet cute. Until that time, I kept my eyes locked on Rory, noting how she didn’t bat an eyelash at demanding customers, a smile constantly affixed to her face. Itwas a slap to the face that she appeared happier working for less than minimum wage—taking crap from people who viewed her as nothing more than a servant to bring their food—than she had been living the life of luxury I’d provided for her.
I’d given the woman the world on a silver platter, yet she turned her nose up at it. For the life of me, I couldn’t make sense of it. Never had I beaten or verbally abused her, so was it really so bad to stand there and look pretty by my side, with the single expectation that, at some point, she bear my child?
If I didn’t know any better, I would have believed this to be a test. That Rory wanted me to track her down because, in some sick and twisted way, that would prove that I cared enough to do so. But then I remembered finding a packet of birth control pills when I tore our room apart looking for clues, and it sank in that she’d been playing me the entire time we spent trying for a baby.
Vision tinted red, I clenched my fists as I glared at my wife across the crowded restaurant.
Yeah, I was really going to enjoy pulling one over on her to get even.
With sharp bursts of air rushing past my flared nostrils, I let my eyes fall shut in an attempt to calm my racing heart. I couldn’t come off aggravated, or I’d ruin this whole thing.
I needed to act charming, which would be one hell of a stretch for me because I was the type of man who would rather kill than play nice. There was a reason Matteo was the face of our real estate company while I handled our dealings in the dark underworld. I simply wasn’t level-headed enough to navigate corporate politics.
The success of this mission would require more restraint than I currently possessed. But since failure was not an option, I had to rein in the all-consuming rage coursing through my veins every time I so much as looked at my wife.
Confident I’d settled enough that I no longer resembled a pissed-off bull ready to charge, I made my move.
Rory had just cleared the door to the kitchen with a loaded tray for her eight-top when I ventured from the alcove, putting us on a collision course. Her gaze was already fixed on the table whose food she carried, so she didn’t see me coming from the opposite side. Well, at least until I not-so-accidentally bumped into her shoulder, knocking her off-balance enough that the tray tipped and the crash of breaking dishes echoed throughout the space.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” I gushed, fighting against the urge to roll my eyes at how pathetic I sounded, before dropping to my knees to help clean up the mess.
With a patient tone I had no idea she possessed, my wife spoke to me for the first time in seven years. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.” She grasped the edge of a broken plate and hissed, “Dammit.”
Blood seeped from a cut across her palm, and she cradled the injured appendage to her chest.
“You’re hurt. Let me see.” I extended a hand, curling my fingers.
Her face went pale, and her lower lip wobbled. “N-no, I’m fine.”
Shaking my head in mock-disgust, I muttered, “God, I am such a clumsy idiot.” Then I smacked my palm against my forehead repeatedly, chanting, “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“Hey.” A tiny hand landed on my forearm, tugging my arm away in an effort to halt the self-destructive motion.
It was impossible not to suck in a sharp breath at the contact, especially when her touch was searing, sending a rush of heat through me.
“Look at me,” Rory commanded softly, and I obeyed, slowly lifting my gaze until it met hers.
The smile on her face was one of compassion, something she’d never aimed in my direction before, and it caused my lungs to seize. My wife had always been a beautiful woman, but now there was a sparkle in her blue eyes and a pink tint to her cheeks that made it appear as if she glowed from within. It was stunning.
Don’t get too used to it; your plan is going to snuff that light out.
Remembering my end goal, I shook out of my stupor in time for Rory to say, “It’s not your fault. I should have been more careful when clearing broken ceramic. I know better than to rush.”
Damn, she really had this service persona on lock, absorbing the blame instead of allowing a “customer” to take accountability. I could admit that I was mildly impressed, considering she hadn’t worked a day in her life prior to running out on me.
“At least let me help you up?” I asked, tone hopeful.
