11. Bianca
Bianca
I’ve lost the battle but not the war.
Never in a million years would I have bet on my husband pulling the little stunt he did two nights ago.
Marco is turning out to be a stronger force in this marriage than I anticipated.
I was banking on the two of us living mostly separate lives, freeing up my time to locate the book and help the Contis become one of the top crime syndicates in the city.
Instead, I find myself lying in bed, wearing out the batteries on my vibrator and imagining the rage in my husband’s eyes when he killed Gabriel for daring to touch me.
Part of me is guilty for the blood that’s practically on my hands, but another darker, hidden part of me feels more alive than ever.
“No one touches what’s mine.”
Marco paints himself as this hedonistic playboy incapable of controlling himself and unworthy of being counted on, but I’ve started to catch glimpses of the side he buries. The side that thrives when I trap him under my thumb, overpowering him. Surprising him.
Challenging him.
More importantly, Marco, for all his resentment and hatred, has never once actually hurt me.
The ruined clothes and missing shoes have simply acted as pawns in our ongoing game of petty chess.
Even the spanking was more about domination and pleasure than pain.
Maybe that’s why, apart from that one time when I noted the scars on his knuckles, I’ve never feared him.
In Marco’s shoes, Father would have left me too bruised to leave my room for days.
That knowledge, more than anything, makes it tough convincing myself that loathing drives me to my vibrator.
I need to get him out of my system, but for some reason, none of my tactics have worked.
If anything, every release simply amplifies my desire to see if his decency extends to generosity in the bedroom.
My cell phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I don’t have to check the screen to know who’s calling. It’s been nearly three weeks. I’ve never gone that long without producing results, and his stilted breathing over the line transmits his impatience.
“Where is it?” No pleasantries, just the frigid wrath I recognize all too well.
“I haven’t found it yet, but—”
Unsurprisingly, Father isn’t interested in my excuses. “Giacomo has operated our casino since before you were born.” Though the comment seems to come out of nowhere, warning bells blare like sirens. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to repay him for all his years of service.”
He hisses like some great snake, his words slithering beneath my armor to entrap me within poisoned scales.
“If you can’t find that damned book and shut the door on this chapter, Livia will make a fine wife for Giacomo.
At least then one of my daughters will have been worth the cost of their upbringing. ”
He ends the call abruptly, and I’m left staring helplessly at my cell. Not only is Giacomo older than both Livia and me combined, but he’s also a power-hungry pervert. The rumors surrounding the deaths of his last three wives suggest he played a role in his repeated widowerhood.
If Father hands Livia over to Giacomo, he might as well sentence her to death.
And it’ll be all my fault. I need to stop these ridiculous games with Marco and remember my mission.
Everything will be okay if I can just find the book. Only two places in the house remain for me to search, so I must be close. The one thing holding me back is Zo, who’s shadowed me ever since I became Mrs. Argento.
It’s long past time I liberate myself from the nuisance.
Around lunch, Marco abruptly leaves the house. The tracking device I had one of my own men install on his Porsche alerts me that he’s headed toward Queens.
Right on schedule.
I wait a few minutes, so he won’t notice me tailing him, then climb into my black BMW. Normally Alessia drives me wherever I want to go, but I can’t risk her reporting my little mission back to Father.
I trail Marco from a safe distance, weaving in and out of traffic over the Queensborough bridge and flying down 33rd Street to ensure I slip my own tail.
When Marco’s location pings at a place called Bounce, I navigate into the pay lot across the street from the building just in time to see him tossing his keys to a valet and striding through the doors as if he owns the establishment.
Typical overconfident man.
Bounce is a coed strip club that doubles as an underground escort service. Apparently, my husband used to be quite the patron. I might be more annoyed, except those who live in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, right?
I hop out of my car and lean against the driver side as the telltale rumbling of Zo’s motorcycle perks up my ears.
He slides into the pay lot, yanks his helmet off, and glares at me before hopping off his bike. “Mrs. Argento, you know you aren’t supposed to leave without—”
Lifting my hand, I motion with two fingers. A sedan with heavily tinted windows waiting at the back of the lot squeals forward, and four Conti soldiers spill out. Zo reaches for the gun holstered at the small of his back, but one of my men, Thomas, whips a tire iron across the back of his skull.
The blow knocks Zo off his feet, and his eyes roll into the back of his head. He’ll have quite the migraine when he comes to, but he’ll be fine. Two more men haul his limp body into the car, where the driver, Diego, idles with Cardi B blasting from the speakers.
Quinta, the fourth Conti soldier, plucks up Zo’s helmet, slips it on her head, and rockets down the street on his bike.
We have a warehouse in Yonkers where she’ll store it until I’ve completed my mission.
If this goes south, she knows a guy who can scrape the plates and dismantle the bike for parts.
The sedan follows her a second later, turning right at the light and disappearing from sight.
The abduction happens so fast that anyone watching might doubt they witnessed anything at all.
Across the street at Bounce, a woman strolls lazily toward the front door, her sleek, long legs accentuated by knee-high heels.
I give her a little finger wave on her way through the door, and she shoots me an exaggerated wink.
Renee, an aspiring model and actress, isn’t exactly Julliard-trained, but she’s beautiful and willing to do almost anything to flesh out her pitifully small resume. Her skills should suffice to distract Marco from the fact that Zo won’t be reporting in on me today.
Satisfied with the first phase of my plan, I climb back into my BMW and return to the manor. With all the relevant parties occupied, I can dive into my book hunt properly. Once I find the thing, I won’t need Marco anymore.
My chest stings at the thought, but I smother the sensation until it fades.
Even if my husband wasn’t just a job, I’d still jump at the chance to get rid of him if I ever receive approval.
Not just for my sake but for Aldo’s and Livia’s as well.