Kane guffaws loudly while Angelo scowls, not in the slightest bit amused at my suggestion.
“Get in the fucking car.” He moves to grab my wrist, but I spin away out of reach.
“Touch me in anger and see how it works out for you, husband,” I hiss. “I might have to pretend to be your loving wife this evening, but you don’t get to manhandle me.”
He glares but backs up. “Just get in, Chiara.”
I huff irritably, already over this bullshit, but do as he asks. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave. At least that’s my hope.
17
Kane
Chiara is the embodiment of sin in that red dress. I wonder who chose it. Not Angelo. Likely Fina, as she has great taste.
From what I’ve seen so far, Chiara favors bikinis and loungewear. I love the bikinis, but I’m not a fan of the loose tops and pants she wears in the evening. They hide her figure and make it harder for me to fantasize while I’m checking the camera feeds.
Yeah, Angelo isn’t the only one with a voyeurism kink.
I know he watches the feeds all the time, but I doubt he knows I do the same.
Watching Chiara has become my guilty pleasure. Not that I feel guilty. It’s not as if I have a girlfriend, and while Chiara is my best friend’s wife on paper, we both know he won’t ever claim her heart, or body if she has anything to do with it.
I watch him as he watches her walk down the stairs. Despite all his attempts to bring her to heel, she holds all the power in their fucked-up arrangement. The armed guards and state-of-the-art security system are the only things keeping her in this house.Nothing Angelo has said or done has persuaded her to embrace her role as his wife.
It’s laughable really.
He’d have been better off marrying Paris Remington if he wanted a wife who played the part with enthusiasm. At least that might have been an option if he hadn’t fucked Paris’s friend.
I smirk at the memory of her hysterical screeching when she walked in on them. I’d known Angelo was with Michelle but did nothing to stop Paris from taking the elevator up to the penthouse.
She deserved it. The woman is pure poison.
Chiara sits as far away as possible from Angelo in the back of the limo. The car slows to a crawl as we approach the Natural History Museum, where this evening’s prestigious gala is being held.
Fina is already there, along with her date for the evening. I hope for her sake he doesn’t get ideas about her. Fina’s like a sister to me, and I wouldn’t wish a moron like Travis Marconi on any woman.
The minute we arrive at the front entrance, photographers from all the society magazines swarm us. My guys push them back with a mix of threats and promises of photos later. Angelo is all smiles as he leads his wife up the steps. She looks mutinous as hell but manages a small smile for an older woman who gushes about how lovely her dress is.
A few minutes later, we’re inside the entrance and surrounded by a full contingent of the city’s richest and smuggest assholes.
The whole shindig is a security nightmare of epic proportions, but attendance is all part of how the Di Rossi family hides their less legitimate activities.
“I want you to keep watch on Chiara at all times,” Angelo reminds me yet again, like I have the memory of a goldfish andmight get distracted by a pretty face. I roll my eyes. “If anything happens to her, I’ll hold you responsible.”
“Nothing’s going to happen. Paul and Vernon are watching all the camera feeds, and we have guards at every exit. I personally vetted the guest list and the press people lucky enough to snag an invitation. We did a sweep of the building earlier, and honestly, not even the fucking president has better security than you.”
If I sound snippy, it’s because I’m annoyed he doesn’t trust me to handle what is a regular event for him and Fina. They attend galas like this all the time. This is bread and butter to Fina, who will use the publicity for articles and press releases to raise the profile of the family’s charitable foundation.
Chiara raises an eyebrow when she turns around. “I hope this place serves alcohol. I’m going to need a drink to cope, or I might have another mental breakdown.” She smirks as Angelo grinds his teeth.
I bet he regrets ever having come up with that bullshit reason for her absence. I warned him it was a bad idea. It would have been better to say she’d gone to stay with family for a spell.
“Darling!” A nasally feminine voice has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. When I turn around, I see Libby Constanzo trotting over, her emaciated figure a sharp contrast to the fake tits she loves to show off.
Libby is one of Angelo’s regular companions on the party circuit. He’s never fucked her, although not for a lack of trying on her part. Libby usually ignores me because the one time she tried flirting, it went badly for her.
“Libby. How lovely to see you.” Libby squeezes past Chiara and attempts to kiss Angelo but he sidesteps and she ends up stumbling.
