I had been frozen in my seat, watching with horror as my wife stumbled into the dining room, obviously drunk, but still looking like a beautiful vision in her cream dinner dress. Then utter fucking chaos. I didn’t even see Emily move until she was standing in front of my wife, spitting trash at her. I wanted to slap the shit out of thatla perra. I was about to stand and move to do so, even though I had never put hands on a woman, when she slapped my wife. And my wife turned, smiled at her, and slapped her harder.
Damn, my woman was a fighter! It could have been the alcohol, but either way, I was proud of her.
What she said next, gutted me.
“Just because you're sleeping in my husband’s bed, doesn’t mean you’re the woman of the house.”
I felt like I had been slapped. My head was starting to throb. No, no, no.
Then she looked at me and about killed me with what she said next.
“So you let your whore take my seat at the table, did you? Well, you might as well move her in now, since you’ve already replaced me with her. But you need to learn to put a leash on your bitch.”
She looked like she was holding tears back, and all I wanted to do was take her in my arms and beg for forgiveness. I had truly hurt my wife.
She turned and stumbled out of the room, just as Emily looked at me in desperation.
“Carlo? Why didn’t you say anything?”
I was pissed. I glared at her. “What would you want me to to say to her, Emily? You completely disrespected my wife. And in front of others. That. Is. Unforgivable.” I was doing my best to restrain myself even though I wanted to beat the shit out of this woman, her being a woman be damned.
Suddenly, I heard a door slamming.
“In fact. You need to get the fuck out of my house. Now!” I practically roared at her.
Her eyes were wide and wild.
Then I heard glass shattering. My head whipped up to the ceiling, feeling panicked. What the hell was that?
More glass shattering could be heard.
Enrique stood up, calmly from the table. “You need to go to your wife, Carlo.” More glass shattering. “Now.”
I looked at him, feeling the panic rise, but keeping that shit locked down.
I started to move towards the stairs when Enrique’s voice came out again. I stopped and looked back over my shoulder at him.
“And Carlo. Figure out what you're doing with your wife. She doesn’t deserve this,” he waved towards Emily who was being escorted out by my men. “Fix it or divorce her. But know this,” his voice grew cold, “if you ever entertain time with that harlot Emily Rodriguez again, our business arrangements are null and void. That woman is tainted.”
I gulped, realizing how much I had truly fucked up. Not only with my wife. I had chosen poorly who to spend my time with and that needed to be rectified pronto.
A few of my men followed me upstairs. I went to the guest room my wife had been staying in, but the room was empty. I frowned. Where could she be?
One of my men came trotting up to me from down the hall, looking anxious. “The master bedroom door is locked, Boss.”
I turned quickly and ran down to the master bedroom, gripping the door handle. It was locked. I began pounding on the door.
“Catalina? Open the door!”
I kept pounding as one of my men went to grab the spare key for the room.
“Catalina? Baby? Please open the goddamned door!”
I knocked louder, even kicked the door. I was starting to panic, and I no longer cared if it showed.
“Catalina? Please baby. You’re scaring the shit out of me!”
My man returned with the key which I used to unlock the door, with shaking hands.
