Adrik
When I claimed her, that was it. I made her mine and betrayed her. She longed for a story that wasn't mine to narrate, so I did the only thing a man like me would-I sent her back. Little did I know the secret she was keeping. The worst of all...
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It's one of the girl's birthdays, and her father threw her a party. That's why we're in New York City. I'm utterly surprised that Gaetano Greco agreed and allowed it at his house. The worst is that there aren't any men, but I have spotted the guards with keen eyes camouflaging these stucco walls.
It's odd and disturbing to have your men dress as statues, awaiting danger and proving that walls have ears, but the girls are paying no heed. They're comfortable and trusting of their boss. On the other hand, I already want to leave this haunting place.
Alessandro is already gone for two hours, and I'm thinking of absconding to find my husband and tell him we should leave. I wished Giulia was here with us. I'm sure Chiara would like that, and I wouldn't worry.
There's already a thin line between fretting and believing everything is okay because it's not. The many secrets are starting to attack me with their brutal force, and I have nowhere to hide but to stay there and take every truth. That with the fact I refused to tell my husband Edoardo Caruso drugged me to wipe my memory of his wickedness.
The two men were in the same room, and not knowing the outcome of this meeting was killing me. You already have that psycho living on a small island with nothing but a bridge to connect him to the mainland, so what other revelation can I hold on to? Only one—something is wrong, and someone will die.
"I didn't know Alessandro Rossi took a wife," The balayage straight blonde pouted her full lips and swirled her champagne glass in her hand.
I smiled embarrassedly and brought my own to my lips, looking at the other girls. "It's been two years. Almost three in April." I shrugged.
She did a once over my body, and I squirmed, feeling my cheeks heat with further embarrassment for the both of us. "I thought your husband preferred blondes." I winced at her insult. Tears threatened to cloud my vision, but I batted my lashes to stop it. That still didn't stop the tug at my heart and the insecurities I buried in Alessandro and my first year as husband and wife.
"Emily," Chiara spoke through gritted teeth. I didn't bother getting acquainted and learning names because I knew I'd never come back here invited or not invited.
The blonde mistress just happened to give me another reason why, and hopefully, those cameras are running and recording every word. So Gaetano Greco can fuck off with his invitations for the foreseeing future.
"What? I thought she should know who her husband prefers in his bed." Emily shrugged with a smile. Her voice dripped like poisoned honey as that dimple begged me to stab into it with the heel of my pump.
"He prefers his wife in his bed," I smiled. "Not a whore who lives on riding any man's dick." I spat despite the nausea churning at the base of my stomach. "And if you have nothing better to do but show how much of an insecure bitch you are, Emily, then you should keep your plastic lips sealed." No one dared to intervene. "You may have fucked my husband once, but I can guarantee you, it was just a fuck."
