“She joins her husband in one brief conversation with him, and all of a sudden, she thinks she’s the expert on Don Maltese,” Kim snidely remarks, swiveling in her chair so she can insult me to my face.
“She probably thinks she stands a chance,” Darlene contributes, and they all laugh at my expense.
Darlene never wastes an opportunity to put me down. She was best friends with Dom’s first wife, and while I understand her loyalty, why am I being punished for Dom’s actions? It’s hardly my fault he claimed a new wife only three months after losing his first one.
“No one wants used goods,Tina.” Vanna waggles her finger in my face.
“I’d be careful throwing shade, Vanna. Unless you’re happy for all your dirty little secrets to come out,” I retort, enjoying watching her face pale.
Yes, bitch, I know you’re fucking Don D’Onofrio behind your best friend’s back.
I won’t divulge what I know from eavesdropping on my husband’s conversation with his despicable son because causing shit for the don is not a smart move—and I owe Vitto—but Vanna doesn’t know that.
“He does want me,” Diana blurts, looking ready to throw down with me. “You haven’t been here to watch it going down. Your obvious jealousy is pathetic.”
I can’t contain my laughter this time, throwing my head back and cackling because it’s one of the funniest things I’ve heard in forever.
“Stop it!” Diana hisses, stretching across the table. “You’re drawing attention.”
I force myself to calm down because Dom would not be pleased if it got back to him his wife wasn’t playing her part in public. Appearances matter to my husband—he doesn’t get the irony—which is why he keeps racking up huge gambling debts. He’s desperately trying to get enough money to buy us a new car, continue the much-needed repairs on our house, buy me nice things purely so he can show me off, and to continue to fund the weekly parties that have contributed to the rapidly declining state of the Ferraro ancestral family home.
“Why on Earth would I be jealous of you, Diana?” I fix her with a rare genuine grin. The gloves are off now, and I’m done holding back. I’ll deal with the consequences later. “Every part of you is fake from your over-sprayed dyed hair to your ridiculous hyena laugh. Your husband constantly cheats on you, and your desperate attempts to claim his attention have failed. You organize regular lunches so you’re not rattling around that big house by yourself because you’re lonely and you have nothing to do. Your intelligence level is right up there with a fourth grader, and you have the personality of a dead fish. You bore everyone to tears with your constant attention-seeking behavior and your uneducated contributions to conversation.”
I don’t mention her inability to deliver her husband an heir because I’llnever use that against any woman, no matter how horrible that woman has been to me. “I’m not jealous of you, Diana,” I confirm, grabbing my bag and pushing my chair back to stand. “I pity you.”
Steam is practically billowing from her ears as I move to walk away.
“How dare you speak to me like that!” she shrieks, seemingly unworried about an audience anymore. “I am the don’s wife, and you will show me the goddamned respect I deserve!” she screeches, thumping her fist on the table.
Planting my palms on the table, I lean forward and put my face all up in hers. “I’ll show you respect when you start showing me some.” I push off the table and straighten up. “I already know that day will never come, and I really couldn’t care less.” I place the strap of my purse over my shoulder as my gaze trails Diana and her friends. “Don’t bother inviting me again. This charade ends now.”
I’m silently patting myself on the back as I leave the restaurant, glad I finally put that bitch in her place. Should have done it a long time ago, but I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers. It feels good to speak my mind. It’s like a switch flipped last night, and I’m remembering the girl I used to be. I haven’t decided if it’s a good or a bad thing yet.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter to myself when I reach the parking lot and discover the Lincoln is gone. Pulling out my cell, I find a text from Dom confirming he needed Bruno and to get a ride home with Diana. “Asshole,” I hiss under my breath as I order an Uber from my phone.
I walk away from the restaurant, not wanting them to see me slumming it in an Uber.Wouldn’t that be the scandal of the century?I head out onto the boardwalk, confident the driver will find me as the app tracks my location.
The boardwalk is teeming with people, the beach packed to capacity, and the sun is beating down on my shoulders as I dodge kids on scooters and stressed parents pushing strollers. I’m regretting wearing high heels to lunch, wishing I’d at least thought to pop a pair of flip-flops in my purse.
I exit the boardwalk five minutes later and flop down onto a bench on thesidewalk to wait for the car. Checking the app, I see he hasn’t moved much in the time it took me to walk here. Traffic is obviously brutal. Brushing damp strands of hair off my clammy brow, I curse my stupidity in leaving it down because my head is hot and beads of sweat cling to the back of my neck. I rummage in my purse for a hair tie, wishing I’d thought to grab a bottle of water from the restaurant before I left.
My heart jumps into my throat when a car screeches to a halt at the curb. I whip my head up, narrowing my eyes at the flashy red sports car as the driver-side window lowers.
“Get in.” Fiero’s deep seductive voice sends shivers racing through my body.
“No.” My response is automatic the instant our eyes connect and that freaky electrical charge sparks in the space between us. I’m not putting myself in close quarters with this man so he can try to take something else from me.
“Valentina.” My name flows off his tongue like melting chocolate, and it’s a miracle I don’t melt onto the sidewalk. How he manages to also make it sound threatening is true skill.
“It’s not Friday, and you can’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m holding up traffic,” he growls as a few car horns blare. “And I’m not arguing with you in the middle of the street. Get. In. The. Car.”
“Make me.” I throw my middle finger up at him as I walk off, and I’ve shocked even myself. Dom would shit his pants if he saw me right now. Unfortunately, that only spurs me on.
A car door slams behind me, while other vehicles continue to blare their horns, and I glance over my shoulder, my pulse ratcheting into coronary-inducing territory when I see a furious Fiero coming after me. I react on instinct, ripping my heels off and running in my bare feet. I race across the pedestrian crossing, with no direction in mind, conscious of pounding footsteps behind me. My only motivation is to lose him and lose him fast.
“Stop!” Fiero roars, and I pick up my pace, ignoring the stinging pain in my right foot as I run over something sharp.
