“Be quick,” I hiss, shoving my wife into the damn bathroom. Then I turn toward Kane, who’s followed us. He frowns, apparently unhappy about me manhandling my wife. Not that I have any fucks left to give. “Go fetch the car.”
“Yes,boss.” He dips his head while scowling, making it clear he doesn’t appreciate me treating him like one of my minions.
Damn woman.She brings out the worst in me. I’m not normally such a short-tempered asshole, but it’s as if she knows exactly what buttons to press, while going out of her way to press them. If I weren’t so damn obsessed with her, I’d be questioning my life choices by now.
My phone rings. When I pull it from my pocket, it’s a number I don’t recognize. “Yes?”
“Is this Angelo Di Rossi?” a female voice asks. I can hear beeps and strange sounds in the background.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m Dr. Ransom from Mercy General ER. We have a Ronald Conti in the ICU. You’re listed as his next of kin. Is this correct?”
Ronald’s our CFO. The man’s a workaholic. I don’t think he’s taken a vacation in at least a decade.
“Yes. What’s the problem?” Ronald never married, from what I know about him. I honestly have no clue about his personal life. He is way more comfortable crunching numbers than having an actual conversation, but he is very good at his job.
“Mr. Conti has had a heart attack. He’s currently on life support.” A band strikes up in the restaurant, which makes it hard to hear what the doctor is saying, so I move down the corridor toward the fire exit, where it’s quieter.
Finding out Ronald is on death’s door is not what I need this evening. If he dies, we’re fucked because there’s nobody else I trust to manage our finances or keep the IRS out of our business.
36
Chiara
Ipurposefully linger in the bathroom. Partly to piss Angelo off, but mostly because my head is fucked. Seeing how Angelo and Fina walk on eggshells around their father has made me wonder how much say Angelo had in our arranged marriage. And if he’s not my enemy, I’m in hot water.
The man is way too attractive, and my willpower is low. While Luka is the sunshine in my day, I love sparring with Angelo. Our verbal spats arouse and annoy me in equal measure. The only thing stopping me from jumping the man is the fact I hate his guts.
I can be a slut when I choose, but I refuse to sacrifice all of my self-respect for a night spent fucking Angelo, even if he’s my husband.
My reflection stares back at me from the shiny mirror. Bottles of luxe hand soap and moisturizer line the counter. There’s even a velvet sofa across the far wall, in case I feel like taking a nap.
Tempting.
The woman in the mirror rolls her eyes. She thinks I’m dumb. I already have Luka in the palm of my hand, and Kane looksat me like I’m a tasty snack. I really don’t need Angelo. Even if giving in to him would make my life easier.
It would hardly be a chore to let him into my bed. It’s not like he’s ugly or a monster. Not to me, at least.
Ugh.
I need to steer clear of alcohol. It messes with my head. Drunk Chiara is prone to making bad decisions, and if Angelo is nice to me on the way home, I might end up letting my libido jump into the driving seat.
With one last glare at myself in the mirror, a reminder not to cave in to the hot, sexy mafia heir’s sex appeal, I refresh my lipstick and walk out of the bathroom.
Only Angelo isn’t there, and Kane must have gone to fetch the car. I frown. It’s not like Angelo to leave me unattended. Just like an abandoned suitcase in an airport terminal, there’s a risk I might blow up and cause a scene.
I chuckle to myself while picturing Angelo’s face if I vanished again. He’d legit kill me himself. Drunk Chiara thinks it’s a great idea, so I scan the corridor, looking for the emergency exit. Perhaps I can escape via a rear entrance and jump in a cab? Sure, I have no cash on me, or a phone, but giving Angelo the runaround for a while would be entertaining.
Just as I lurch forward, the door to the men’s restroom bursts open. A bulky guy in a gray suit walks out, wiping his hands on his pants.Gross. He takes one look at me and stops dead.
“You lost, honey?” he purrs, having worked out I’m inebriated.
“No, I’m…waiting…for someone.” I say, but my words come out slurred.Jesus. Have I really drunk that much?
“Waiting for me, baby.” The man smiles and steps into my personal space. His hand slides around my waist as he looks down at me through hooded eyes. He’s wearing a strong cologne. Not a nice one, like Angelo. The overpowering scent makes my stomach churn.
I try to push him back, but he’s solid as a bull.
