After the drama back at the gala, I assumed that was the reason for his shitty mood, but now, I’m not so sure.
The sadness in Chiara’s eyes suggests something else has gone off since they left the hotel. But what?
“Why’s she upset?” I direct my question at Kane because I know I won’t get a straight answer from my wife.
“She told Luka she planned to divorce your ass ASAP and then go as far away as possible.”
Kane sounds remarkably unfazed by the revelation, but I squeeze the glass still in my hand so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t shatter. The amusement on the bastard’s face makes it clear he’s enjoying my reaction. It takes a lot of effort, but I rein in my anger. There’s nothing to be gained from blowing up again.
Anger fuels anger, and Chiara does not need an excuse to lose her shit with me. I throw her a tight smile.
“Sorry, princess, but a divorce isn’t on the cards, not even if my wife cheats on me with my brother.” If looks could kill, I’d be dead.
“And if I fuck Kane too?” Her venomous glare turns sly. There’s a brief flicker of guilt in Kane’s eyes. Have I missed something? I’ve been too busy to check all the security footage from the last few nights. Clearly that’s a mistake if Chiara’s taunt is anything to go by.
“Have you been a bad girl, darling?” The minute the words slip out, sounding way more seductive than I intended, I regret them. Heat flares in her eyes, and she bites her lush bottom lip. My pants suddenly feel much too tight. Fuck, I need another drink before I do or say anything else guaranteed to land me in hot water.
As much as I want to fuck some manners and submission into my wife, I will not take advantage of her while her emotions are all over the place.
“I’m always bad, Angelo. You should know that by now.”
Kane chuckles, and I have to bite back a reluctant smile.
“Go to bed, Chiara,” I snap instead, grabbing the whiskey bottle and forgoing a glass this time. The whiskey burns like fire as it slides down my throat, but it helps to numb my senses. “I need you in the office tomorrow. I have a guy looking into the transactions you flagged as problematic.”
“Who?” Kane asks, his business head back in place.
“Milo, one of Kyril Orliov’s guys.”
“Kyril Orliov? Guys?” Chiara leans forward, interested.
“Russian mafia heir. Milo is another of his wife, Thea’s, husbands. There are five of them.” My lips curls. What kind of man agrees to share his wife with four other dudes? He’s a fucking idiot. Not that I’d say that to his face.
Orliov is not a man I want to piss off. He’s agreed to let Milo help me on this in return for a favor to be called in at a future time. I would never have agreed except I’m at my wit’s end, and I don’t want to use the guy we normally call on because it would tip off my father, who’s already on my case.
“Wow, she has more than one guy?” Chiara smirks at Kane. There’s an undercurrent there I can’t identify, like I’ve missed an important part of the conversation. “I feel like I want to meet this Thea. She sounds cool as fuck.”
“Thea Orliov is a psycho,” Kane tells her. “You’d like her. She runs a PI agency specializing in honey trapping cheating spouses.”
“Oh my god, that’s freaking awesome! Yeah, I really wanna meet this woman.”
“Never going to happen,” I snarl, not liking the way her face falls before her usual mutinous expression returns. Aside from my sister, Chiara has no friends, which makes me feel guilty, but until she starts acting like a dutiful mafia wife, I can’t give her the freedom she craves. It’s too dangerous, especially with someone working against us.
Until I figure out what’s going on and who’s behind it, she’s not allowed out without me or Kane at her side. And that includes trips to the spa with Fina.
Although I doubt Fina will have the time to visit a spa for a while. Our latest problems now include an avalanche of bad press stories designed to paint our family as criminals. Notexactly a lie, but all the shit being posted online is affecting our hotel brand and hitting bookings.
“Be ready to leave at eight a.m. tomorrow.” It’s late, and I’m done talking. Thankfully, Kane’s released my wife. I try not to stare as she yawns and rubs her eyes.
Her dog climbs out of the bed I spent a small fortune on and trots over. She sniffs my pants leg and gives me a look that promises pain if I hurt her mistress.
Chiara sighs. “Coco, come and pee.” The dog trots after her as she leaves the kitchen, no doubt heading for the back terrace where her rat will pee all over my expensive plants and incur the wrath of the landscaping guy I pay to maintain the gardens.
“I better not find anything of interest when I review the security footage,” I growl at my friend once Chiara is out of earshot.
“You won’t,” he replies with a smirk, which tells me he’s already deleted whatever the cameras picked up. Then his smile fades. “We need to talk about Luka.”
I huff out an irritated sigh, not in the mood to deal with more shit. “Why? What’s he fucking done now?”
