She’d deliberately blinded herself to the signs, then dared to blame me.
My jaw tightens as I step towards the steel freezer door. “Lucia,” I say evenly. “You have three minutes.”
Silence answers.
I check my watch.
Two minutes pass.
I reach up and flick the breaker.
The lights die.
Her scream comes instantly, raw, sharp and panicked. She’s always been afraid of the dark, my brave, infuriating little wife.
The door bursts open seconds later and she stumbles out, breathless, pale, eyes wild.
Straight into my arms.
I catch her without thinking, hauling her against my chest as if I had done so a thousand times, because I had.
Her hands grip my shirt. Her breath punches against my throat.
“Easy,” I murmur. “I’ve got you.”
I carry her out into the sun, into warmth, into light.
Marcel appears, flustered.
“A towel,” I snap.
Lucia glares at the way I address him.
Marcel hands me the towel anyway, then turns his weathered gaze to her. There’s apology in there, but not enough to be truly contrite about his decision.
“I couldn’t turn down the offer,” he tells her quietly. “It was… too generous.”
She exhales, shoulders slumping slightly. “It’s okay, Marcel. Truly.”
She smiles at him then, and I growl.
Her eyes flick back to me with a glare and with something else… recognition of the kind of danger she’s skirting.
“You’d better not have been smiling at men like that while we were apart,” I say darkly.
She shrugs and my eyes are drawn, hypnotically and blazingly, to her chest. The cold has made her nipples bead visibly through the thin fabric of her dress.
Her breath stutters when she realises where I’m looking and a blush blooms across her cheeks.
I meet her eyes again slowly. “Brava, cara,” I murmur. “You chose well. I would have picked Rio. Rome. Even Los Angeles as your hiding place. And believe me, I searched them thoroughly.”
“Proves you don’t know me as well as you think,” she cuts in sharply. “And I know I can say the same about you. Now how are we doing this? Because I’m still not coming back. You can have your fancy lawyers draw up divorce papers. I’ll sign whatever you want. I won’t take a dime. Just leave me alone.”
“And if I don’t?” I ask mildly. “You’ll take me for everything I’m worth?”
She scoffs. “Do you even know how much you’re worth?”
“Enough,” I reply calmly.
