Chapter 4
KARINA
The next morning brings no resolution to my problem. I have a lot of thinking to do, a terrifying decision to make, and no one to help me make it.
I’m not sure if the rest of the Bellantis were still tied up in war room talks last night, but I found myself eating dinner alone.
And then Marco didn’t sleep in his—our—bed either.
I woke up just before sunrise wondering where he might be and then realized I felt better that he was gone.
It’s an odd feeling to want someone so much and yet still want to keep them at arm’s length.
But I’m just not prepared to face him right now.
Unfortunately, I need coffee. The alternative is a splitting headache, and that’s the last thing I need. After a quick shower, I throw on another of the sundresses that Frankie got me and swipe on a little mascara before I tiptoe to the dining room, only to find it once again empty. Of course.
Just as I’m debating walking into the kitchen and attempting to make coffee for myself, a member of the staff bustles in with a basket of pastries, a plate of butter that’s been pressed into the shape of a flower, and a mug and saucer.
“Coffee? Tea? Espresso? Café au lait? Latte? Flat white?” she asks teasingly. “I can also put in an order for whatever you’d like to eat. Chef Alain is happy to prepare anything you like.”
“Um, just regular coffee would be great,” I tell her, selecting a flaky, buttery croissant for myself. “Where is everyone?”
It’s barely after eight, and I get the feeling that this family is not the sleeping-in type. Well, besides Marco.
She just smiles. “The Bellantis keep their affairs to themselves, but you’re right to wonder…this is usually the busiest part of the morning. I do know that a breakfast order was sent over to the offices earlier, but I’m not sure who it was for.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, thank you,” I say, trying not to sound as rejected as I feel. But the croissant suddenly tastes like ash in my mouth.
Is everyone angry at me, I wonder?
After I get a refill, I take my second coffee into the library and try to puzzle things out some more.
Nothing feels like the right choice. I wish I had a third option, but the only third option I can see, possibly, is staying permanently on the run from my uncle and all the goons in his empire.
Which I doubt I’d be very successful at.
Leaving me with option four, getting killed.
I know going back home would be suicide too, though. Even if my uncle decides I’m more valuable to him alive, which is unlikely, he’d probably lock me inside the isolation room and let me rot while watching the entire process on the security cameras, just for fun.
So that leaves me with agreeing to stay with my fake husband, my fake marriage, and my fake life.
But what kind of life is that? Not one I want.
Maybe I could stick it out just long enough to see this mob war end…
but even if the Bellantis win, the Brunos won’t disappear forever.
It’s not like Marco’s brothers can get rid of every single Bruno in the world.
And when they rise up again, I’ll be the first person on their hit list.
Pain suddenly lances through my middle. Crossing my arms over my ribs, I close my eyes and try to breathe through it.
It’s not a real stomachache—it’s just what happens when my nerves hit hard.
A physical manifestation of the type of crippling anxiety I used to get when I was younger and fearful over being caught by my uncle for doing something he disapproved of.
Sometimes I’d get so sick, I would actually end up in bed or get sent home from school.
It's no shock to me that I’m having a panic attack right now, but I don’t think it’s just because of my inability to come up with a plan for myself.
The truth is, there’s another problem I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about, but can’t get out of my mind.
My family is holding Livvie Abbott hostage.
And yet I can’t bring myself to say anything.
The phone call I had with my father was twisted. Sitting on the information is stabbing me from the inside out, but I don’t know what to do about it. Do I tell Marco?
What will happen if I do?
Fear has me by the throat and I don’t know who to trust. I’m sick over this.
I go back to Marco’s rooms and flop onto the sofa, feeling defeated.
I attempt to watch TV, but there are too many channels and nothing catches my interest. After admiring some of Marco’s racing trophies—not a speck of dust on any of them—I end up sitting by the window, just staring out at the gorgeous grounds of the Bellanti property.
Utterly bored. And utterly anxious at the same time.
It’s funny—when I lived at my uncle’s house, my entire day was either scheduled or under close surveillance.
I barely had a moment to myself, and even my free time was structured or subject to my uncle’s whims. But now that I have all the freedom in the world (sort of), and the entire day to myself, with nobody looking over my shoulder or telling me what to do…
I don’t know what to do with myself. Which is making me feel even more antsy and out of sorts.
I debate calling Marco, but I don’t even know what to say to him right now.
And even if we weren’t fighting, or whatever it is that we’re doing right now, he’s got to be working, so I can’t really expect him to drop everything just to entertain me.
I check the time, but it’s not even 11:30 yet. I can’t go on like this.
Frankie’s number is also saved to the phone Marco gave me, so I send her a quick text asking what she’s up to, but her reply is that she’s in the waiting room at her OBGYN. Drat. A second later, I get another text from her with Candi’s contact info, encouraging me to reach out.
I save Candi’s number but then pause before hitting dial.
She’d been friendly enough both times I met her, but without Frankie there to act as a buffer, I’m not sure it won’t be awkward.
Candi and I are practically strangers. On the other hand, I do really need to talk to someone, even though I’m not used to leaning on people for support.
Normally I just bury everything. It’s the Bruno way. But…look at where that’s gotten me.
She picks up on the first ring.
“Candi,” I say with forced cheerfulness. “I hope I’m not interrupting you at work or anything—it’s Karina. Um, Bellanti.”
“Hey!” she says happily. “So good to hear from you, you’re not interrupting anything. How’s newlywed life treating you? You settling in okay?”
She sounds sincere, so I press on.
“Good, everything is good,” I lie. “I was just wondering if you’re free for lunch today?”
Candi laughs. “You know what’s so funny?
The winery is hosting a private brunch at the tasting room today, until two o’clock.
It’s just for people from local businesses, I guess to keep up appearances while the renovations are still going on?
But I have to drop off a few contracts at the Bellanti offices so I was already planning to be there, if you’d like to join me in about an hour. Or we can go somewhere else. You pick.”
Her easy acceptance warms some of the chill from my soul. “Let’s do the tasting room. That sounds perfect, and then we won’t have to drive all over Napa. I could really use some girls’ time.”
“Sounds great. See you then.”
Heading back to the bathroom to give my hair and makeup a little more attention, I ponder what I’m going to say to Candi.
Everything in my life is a mess right now, but I can’t exactly come right out and talk about the “family business.” Though surely Candi must know about the mob stuff…
or at least suspect it. Either way, I could use an honest female perspective from someone who isn’t a Bellanti.
In the closet, I find a ponte knit blazer (another gift from Frankie) and throw it over my dress so I look marginally more put together.
Or at least, that’s what I think until I get to the tasting room and find Candi already waiting outside, the epitome of class and fashion savvy.
She’s in a smartly tailored navy suit with a Battenburg lace blouse underneath, her glossy hair in a serious bun.
I swear, this woman would look fantastic in a garbage bag.
“Karina!”
She gives me a quick hug and then pulls back, eyeing me appraisingly.
“How are you?” she asks.
I don’t miss the cautious note in her voice—has Marco said something about me, about us? Did she overhear something when she dropped off her contracts? Her expression suggests she knows something is up, but how could she? Or maybe I just look as crappy as I feel.
“I’m good, just…a little tired,” I say.
“Ooh, I’ll bet you are,” she teases.
I can feel my cheeks go hot, but I don’t correct her. Let her think it’s Marco who’s been keeping me up all night long. It’s better than the truth, anyway.
“Should we head inside?” I ask, hoping to redirect the conversation.
Candi’s gaze shifts over my shoulder and she flashes a smirk. “Speak of the devil.”
I whip around and see Marco striding toward us. His eyes land on me immediately, and I swear that electricity sparks between us.
“Ladies,” he says rakishly, wrapping an arm around me as if everything is completely normal.
“Hey you,” I say, trying to smile as my stomach clenches and my heart aches.
“Where exactly are you two off to?” he asks teasingly, though he pulls me against him a little more forcefully than necessary. “Are you and Candi trying to plot your escape?”
My smile grows strained. “Do I not have your permission to go out to lunch?”
“While we’re still not in agreement?” he shoots back. Then he looks at Candi and mock-whispers, “Lover’s quarrel,” with a wink.
Candi smiles, as if this is all one big joke.
“The tasting room isn’t even off the property,” I point out, wriggling out of his grasp. “Unless I’m not supposed to have friends either, while we’re ‘not in agreement.’”