“But why? It makes no fucking sense. He knows I don’t want this fake marriage, and I’ve made it clear I have no intention ofgiving him a little Di Rossi heir. So why not annul this marriage and find a woman who actually wants to be Mrs. Angelo Di Rossi? There must be plenty of women eager to step into my shoes!”
I pull away from Luka and stomp over to the sink for a glass of water. Angry tears prick my eyes as all my frustration bubbles to the surface again. I hate being trapped in this fucking mansion day in and day out, unable to leave without an armed guard. It’s suffocating. And if Angelodoeslet me out under supervision, it’s usually to some bullshit event where I have to rub shoulders with people I hate, like Vivian.
And her husband, who I’m one hundred percent certain cuckolded my dad.
Kane and Luka don’t say a word, but Luka’s acting like I’ve drowned his kitten. God, I’m such a bitch. He’s had a shit evening and now he has no manager, yet I’ve basically just admitted I’m not serious about him. Fuck, he must hate me.
“Luka, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s fine.” He throws a fake smile in my direction. Kane watches the two of us but stays silent. “I’m used to it. I know you’re not serious about me, Chiara.” The fact he’s using my given name rather than the stupid nicknames he has for me is telling. “Anyway, it’s probably for the best that we cool things. Wouldn’t want my brother to off me in another fit of rage.” He huffs out a brittle laugh and then stands. “I’d better get going. I have a work thing in the morning.”
“Fuck, I’m sorry I sacked Nolene,” I say, not sorry at all about that, but needing to say something to fill the chasm between us that’s growing by the minute.
“Don’t be sorry. I’ll sort it out.”
I hope that doesn’t mean Nolene is back on the payroll by morning.
A car pulls up outside. Angelo’s here.
“And that’s my cue to leave,” Luka says brightly. Instead of kissing me goodbye, he picks up his phone and leaves without a backward glance.
I’m left reeling at how fast my evening derailed. One minute we’re talking about threesomes, and the next, Luka and I have broken up. Not that we’d ever really put a label on our relationship, but still.
My heart cracks in my chest, and as the front door slams in Luka’s wake, I realize that perhaps my feelings run much deeper than I thought. Kane watches me for a moment before walking over and pulling me into his arms. He holds me so tight I can barely breathe, but it helps ease my pain.
“He’ll be back, kitten.”
“What if he doesn’t come back?” My tears come thick and fast, and my abandonment issues are front and center right now, which is mortifying. “I basically told him I was leaving the first chance I got.”
“He already knew that, kitten. Even if Angelo agreed to a divorce, which he won’t, by the way, there’s nothing stopping Luka from going with you.”
“A girlfriend wouldn’t fit his brand,” I sniff.
“You know that’s all bullshit. None of the online stuff he does matters to him. He does it because he fell into the role by accident, not because he actually enjoys it. He doesn’t believe he has any other talents. Lorenzo told him as much when he first discovered he had another son. The idiot took all Lorenzo’s vile comments to heart.”
I pull away from Kane in surprise. “Why would Lorenzo be so awful to the son he didn’t know about?”
“Because my father is a cunt,” Angelo says from behind us. I spin around to see my husband glaring daggers at Kane, who still has his arms wrapped around me.
“Your father is Satan’s spawn, yes, but why would Luka believe such lies from him?”
“Because Luka has issues.” Angelo scrubs his hand across his jaw and stalks over to the counter where the bottle of whiskey sits, still open. He pours himself a glass and drains it in a few gulps.
“Issues?” I repeat, not sure what he’s driving at. Yes, it’s obvious Luka has problems with enforcing boundaries, but having heard the story about him being sexually assaulted as a teenager, I’m not surprised. Regardless, I get the impression there’s a lot more I’m unaware of.
“Not my story to tell,” Angelo snaps while Kane remains silent. “So would either of you like to explain why my best friend has his fucking arms around my wife?”
51
Angelo
Kane is lucky he’s still breathing. He might be my best friend, but Chiara is mine. Yes, we once made an agreement to share the women we both liked, but that was years ago, and I don’t recall the small print mentioning wives.
Specificallymy wife.
From the possessive way Kane’s arm hooks around Chiara’s waist, he believes our agreement is in force. Well, it’s fucking not.
“Chiara was upset,” he says calmly. “I was comforting her.” Is she crying over Luka? He barely said a word to me as he left the house. Not that I bothered asking him why he looked like someone had pissed in his fruit loops.
