“You need to do better than try, Candi,” she says, sounding for all the world like her uncle Sergio. “Get the information I asked you for, and stop fucking around!”
She hangs up on me then, leaving me stunned. Pulling the phone from my ear, I stare at it like there must be some mistake. But no. The screen says Call Ended.
Slipping it into my pocket, my heart thumping hard in my chest, I toss back the last few sips of my wine and decide to get a refill. I’m going to need it to process that conversation.
In the kitchen, I find a fresh bottle of zinfandel. It’ll do. After I uncork it, I bring it with me to the back patio. The swimming pool glimmers under the moon, solar lights glowing prettily around the yard. The air is warm and makes me instantly sleepy when I slide into one of the chairs surrounding the fire pit.
It’s not until I’ve poured a glass and taken the first sip that I allow myself to mull over my conversation with Juliana. She made a lot of solid points. And if the Bellantis really are trafficking women, I need to know. I need the truth. But who am I supposed to believe? Armani will deny it. Juliana will insist she’s right. And then there’s me, caught in the middle, loyal to both even though I can’t be.
I don’t know what the hell to do.
The back door opens, and I whip a look over my shoulder. It’s Karina, wearing a bathing suit with a bathrobe over it. She freezes when she sees me with my palm over my chest.
“Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here. Didn’t mean to scare you,” she says. “I’ll go.”
“No, don’t. You’re fine,” I tell her, waving my hand. “Seriously.”
She hesitates, seeming to debate her options. I bet she’s going to leave, though, because she hates me as much as the rest of this family does.
“Hey, um—would you like some of this wine?” I say hastily, my inhibitions muted by the amount of alcohol I’ve consumed over the last hour or two. “It’s so nice out, and I just opened the bottle…”
Karina glances quickly behind her, and then shrugs. “Sure. Why not.”
She walks over and takes a seat across from me. I refill my empty glass and go to hand her the bottle, only to realize—
“Oh. I only have one glass. Do you want to drink out of the bottle? I didn’t bring another.”
She laughs. “I’ll just grab one from the pool bar.”
She gets up and goes to the other side of the patio, where there’s a full outdoor kitchen, complete with a fridge, grill, pizza oven, and cabinetry loaded with dishes and glassware of all types. An excellent use of Bellanti money if I ever saw one.
I pass the zinfandel over once she’s back in her chair. She sips from her glass and looks at me with a brow raised. We haven’t talked in a while. We were friendly when she first married Marco, mostly because Frankie was the leader of our pack…but then Karina and Marco started traveling nonstop for his races, and once the Bellantis found out I was working for the Brunos, Karina basically stopped acknowledging my existence. Along with everyone else in the family besides Armani.
“So…” she says, breaking the tension. “You came out here to look at the stars?”
“Something like that.” I take another drink of my wine. “Actually, that’s not true.”
But I can’t say,I came out here to get drunk since I just realized how totally fucked I am.
“What’s wrong? Is it…Armani?” she asks.
“It’s a lot of things. But yes, he’s a big part of it. And…I’m also stressed because my best friend is getting married to someone she barely knows. Which I don’t approve of. And now we’re fighting.”
Karina’s eyes widen. “Oh. Gosh. I’m sorry.”
“It could turn out okay, but I just feel like…arranged marriages have such a huge potential for disaster. And she’s acting like it’s no big deal, but it might ruin her life. You know what I mean?”
Her brows shoot up again. I wonder if she thinks I’m referring to her and Marco, or even Frankie and Dante for that matter. Or if she’s aware of how my marriage to Armani went down.
“I was talking about my own experiences,” I clarify, taking another chug of wine. “I wasn’t throwing shade at you. Honestly, you and Marco seem really happy now anyway. So that’s a plus for marriages of convenience, right? That they can turn out good in the end? And Frankie’s pretty much living her best life too, so…I don’t know. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. It’s just happening so fast.”
All that word-vomit has me suddenly very self-conscious. If Karina had any suspicions that my elopement in Vegas had nothing to do with Armani and me being in love, I’ve just confirmed them.
“Your friend shouldn’t be upset with you for caring about her,” Karina says thoughtfully, turning the stem of her glass between her fingers. “Even if you’re coming across as unsupportive, she has to realize it’s because you genuinely want what’s best for her.”
“Yes! Exactly. And a quickie marriage ain’t it. Unless it is, but that’s quite a gamble,” I babble.
Karina nods. “She’s probably getting defensive because she knows, deep down, that this is a risky move. Which is scary. I bet she just doesn’t want to have to admit it.”
