Being bad has never felt so good.
24
CANDI
Juliana’s weddinghas been heavy on my mind since yesterday. I haven’t been able to bring myself to mention it to Armani yet. I’m dreading the conversation.
It’s one thing for me to be vague about meeting up with my college roommate for brunch, but I can’t be as evasive about my role as said roommate’smatron of honornext month, especially since Armani won’t be invited to the wedding. Even if her name is Juliana Guerra, her guests will all be Brunos and random Russians. Which means I’ll have to come clean about the fact that Juliana is a Bruno, in order to explain why Armani can’t be my date. Which is going to make me look shady as hell at a time when my husband is only just starting to trust me. It’ll have him questioning my loyalty all over again.
Because of course I should have mentioned my Bruno best friend to him already.
And of course I haven’t. Not that he ever asked about my friends.
The alternative, however, is me lying about the entire thing (either fibbing about who exactly my engaged friend is, or not telling him I’m going to a wedding at all) and waiting for my husband to find out the truth himself later—which, believe me, he will—after which he’ll immediately put two and two together. He’s too smart to ignore the obvious: that my Bruno best friend is also my Bruno handler.
Again: his trust in me, obliterated.
It seems like the right move is to just tell him that my BFF is a Bruno, impress upon him how important it is for me to be at her side on her wedding day, and not divulge any further details. He’ll know the truth without me stating it explicitly, but…maybe it won’t matter if he knows who my handler is.
Surely Armani will reason that it would be very poor strategy to hurt Jules—because that would instantly tell the Brunos that I’ve A) been compromised and B) leaked intel to the Bellantis. Because I’m the only one who could lead Armani to Juliana. So in order to keep the Brunos in the dark about me switching sides, and to ensure that I’m still useful to the Bellantis as a double agent, Armani will have to act like he doesn’t know Juliana is my contact.
Maybe I can even frame it as a strategic move on my part…attending a Bruno wedding will further cement my alleged loyalty to the Brunos. Right? Ergo, Armani should beencouragingme to go.
Except it’s not that cut and dried.
The logic is there, but I don’t trust it. I’m no expert in spy games, and there’s no denying that my husband is. He’s also a stone-cold killer. He’s dangerous. Calculating. Cruel, at times. Revealing Juliana’s role in this war with the Brunos doesn’t seem like a remotely smart move. Neither does lying about it. And it’s too late for me to back out as her matron of honor. I have to keep my word to her.
But if I tell Armani—
“Something wrong?” Armani asks from across the table.
Startled from my thoughts, I jerk back just enough to spill my coffee onto my breakfast, soaking my poached eggs on brioche.
Throwing my napkin over my plate, I shake my head. “No. Sorry. I was just…thinking.”
He starts to stand. “Should I have the kitchen staff remake your breakfast?”
“Um, no. It’s okay. I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”
I can feel his eyes tracking me as I purposely avoid his gaze and focus on sopping up the mess I just made. My adrenaline is spiking. He’s obviously on to me. At minimum, he knows I’m hidingsomething. He’s a professional interrogator, for fuck’s sake. How long can I keep this secret from him? It’s stupid to even try.
But I can’t tell him about Juliana. I can’t. Maybe I should just sit on the big wedding news for a bit. Ease into it instead. Maybe I can reveal it to him in stages, rather than one big truth bomb.
“You need to eat,” he scolds mildly. “You barely touched your food. Here.”
He slides half of his own eggs and toast onto a plate of sliced avocado and then pushes the whole thing toward me. I take it and nod.
“Thanks.”
He tilts his head. “What were you so deep in thought about?”
Taking a big bite of eggs to stall for time, I try my best to act natural when I answer, “The christening, I guess. I can’t stop thinking about how happy Frankie and Dante looked yesterday. The ceremony was really special. And Lili looked like a perfect angel.”
He lifts a brow. Does he not believe me? Or is he nervous that I might be getting baby fever? Or is he merely remembering our little tryst in the church confessional booth?
“The christening was nice,” he finally says neutrally.
“It was.”
