About half an hour later, my husband strode in. He was still wearing his tuxedo from last night, without a tie, and with his shirt unbuttoned.
I didn’t care.
He walked over to the coffeepot and poured himself a mug. Then he turned around and stared at me.
I shoveled eggs into my mouth and sipped coffee, ignoring him.
“I had to go out last night,” he informed me.
That was when I looked at him. “Should I care?”
“Anya tried to kill herself.”
That sent a jolt through me, but was I supposed to feel sympathy? That I had to ask myself that question left a nasty taste in my mouth. It was like déjà vu. My mother manipulated Dom and Dad to get what she wanted. She never attempted suicide, but I saw the terror in my father’s eyes each time my mother fell into deep depression, and I hated her for doing that to Dad. Here I was again, but the joke was on me because in what universe was I supposed to care about my husband’s mistress?
I sipped coffee, and it burned my throat like battery acid. I set it down and pushed the mug away and asked the question someone with a shred of basic human decency would ask. “Is she going to be okay?”
“Yes, but she’s in the hospital for observation.” Kirill raked his hand through his hair.
“Do you want me to send her flowers?”
Kirill’s eyes flashed, and he slammed his mug on the table, startling me. Sato grew alert and sat forward.
“You think this is a joke?” Kirill snarled. “Her blood was everywhere! She’s spiraling because I married you, and you want to send her flowers from us? Rub it in that I married you instead of her?”
Wow, that was the first time I’d seen a storm of emotion from Kirill. He must really love Anya.
“But the public doesn’t know that.” I probably needed to inject some common sense back into him. Clearly, he wasn’t thinking straight. In this regard, I was his perfect wife. “Tellme what to do here, Kirill? Tell me how to play your game or whatever scheme you’re cooking up. You say you don’t want to raise any suspicion about the two of you. That was why I suggested sending flowers from us. Because you rushed to her side…”
“She gave a statement to the press this morning that she couldn’t live without Bruce Davenport as the reason she tried to take her own life.”
I sat back in my chair. Wow. She attempted suicide, supposedly was suffering from blood loss and deep depression, and could speak to the press.
“You put her up to it?”
“For damage control. What a mess!” He sliced his hand through the air. “Some reporter caught wind I was in her house when I should be here with my bride.”
“Wasn’t that your intention anyway? For my total humiliation. What’s more humiliating than an abandoned bride on her wedding night?”
Kirill glared at me. “It doesn’t work if the mistress tries to kill herself.”
“You’re feeling guilty because your revenge on me sent Anya over the edge and it wasn’t what you were planning?”
“Careful,” he sneered. “You almost sound sympathetic to Anya.”
“I’m trying to be the bigger person here but it looks like you're blaming me for this entire fiasco.” I stood up. “Well, guess what? I’m done trying to save your ass. You figure out how to handle your scandals, and we’ll communicate through a calendar when you need me to make an appearance.”
I was done.
I stomped out of the kitchen. Not one day married, and I wanted to stab my husband in the eye.
It was going to be a long year.
Chapter
Fourteen
Six weekslater
