Page 23 of Banished and Pregnant by Her Sicilian Billionaire Husband

HE WAS GONE BEFORE I woke up, and by breakfast I’m teaching my daughter fractions in the kitchen of the house I was thrown out of, as though the whole of last night happened to somebody else.

“Seven eighths take away three eighths.”

“Four eighths.”

“So what’s another way of saying four eighths?”

“A half.” Rica sighs so hard it moves her worksheet. “Mama, why do they make it complicated if it’s just a half?”

“Because mathematicians hate children.”

Vico’s the one who answers her, and Rica laughs while I do my best to keep a straight face as I tell her that’s not true at all.

The next twenty minutes have Vico joining us for our math lessons, and by the end of it, Rica is unfortunately convinced the uncle she adores is telling the truth.

Mathematicians hate children, absolutely!

At dinner, Daniele is back from Miami, and he sits himself down next to me.

He’s brought presents, because he always does. A snow globe for Rica. A scarf for his mother. For me, a paper bag of little almond biscuits from a bakery he swears is the only good thing in the state of Florida.

“For the sister-in-law I’m not allowed to talk about,” he announces, setting them in front of me.

“Daniele,” Camillo warns, from behind his newspaper.

“What? She’s sitting right there! Eight years of nobody saying her name in this house, and now she’s at the table and we’re still doing it.” He leans back in his chair, entirely at ease, then smiles at me. “You’re much prettier than the photograph, by the way.”

“What photograph?”

“Ah,” says Daniele.

Everybody at that table finds something to look at. Ana Lucia examines her soup. Vico develops a sudden interest in the salt.

And I sit there with my face going hot, because somewhere in this house there’s a photograph of me that all of these people have seen.

“Eat your dinner,” Ana Lucia instructs her youngest son placidly.

He doesn’t. He turns his chair towards me instead, props his chin on his hand, then starts asking about Rica. What she likes. What she reads. Whether she’s musical. Whether she gets the temper from her mother’s side or theirs.

He’s charming, warm, completely relentless. Inside ten minutes he’s made me laugh three times, and it’s at this moment that Marcello joins us, and the whole table goes silent until...

“Talk about awkward.”

Vico always says the best and worst thing ever, and just like that, Marcello is glaring at him while his brothers are smirking, Ana is coughing, and Rica is asking her dear Uncle Vico what’s awkward.

After that, the conversation around the table resumes...somewhat. I mean, Daniele still makes me laugh, which I’m grateful for, but I also can’t help noticing how my husband looks like he’s this volcano that’s about to explode at any moment.

“Come and see the boathouse tomorrow,” Daniele urges me over coffee. “Properly. There’s a boat in it that hasn’t moved since I was nine, plus a family of ducks I personally—”

Marcello suddenly gets to his feet, but his voice is gentle as he asks his mother to look after Rica while he has a word with me.

Alone.

Everyone looks at us with unconcealed interest as Marcello takes my hand, and while I have no idea what this is all about, I make sure to give Rica a smile so that she knows everything’s okay.

Because it is.

Right?