Chapter 33 Chiara
Chiara
Past me would have laughed if she could see present me now, wearing head-to-toe couture while making polite chit-chat with women I can’t stand.
I swish over to the tall glass windows and stare out into the gardens. Thanks to pretty glowing lights everywhere, the shimmering swimming pool, the palatial pool house, the manicured lawns, and in the distance, the edge of the lemon grove are all visible.
It’s a beautiful garden. One that deserves a full-page spread in an architectural magazine. The armed guards don’t quite fit the aesthetic, though. Or the huge devil dog sat gnawing on a bone.
Wait…
Why is the bone wearing scraps of denim?
I look away quickly, not wanting to attract the attention of the man-eating dog. The alcohol I’ve consumed sloshes around in my stomach uncomfortably, reminding me I’m very drunk. Oops.
“Once Angelo comes back, we’re leaving,” Kane tells me in a low voice. While I’ve been staring outside, he’s moved closer.
“Good. This place gives me the creeps.”
“Imagine how Angelo felt living here,” Kane chuckles. He glances over at Fina, who’s acting like she’s having a ball while sipping herbal tea under the guise of stomach problems.
Considering her fate if we can’t figure something out, Fina’s coping remarkably well. I wasn’t nearly as calm when I discovered Vivian had sold me into marriage.
The woman herself stands by a bookcase with a glass of wine. She’s talking to a tall, gaunt woman and smiling like she’s living her best life.
Fucking evil bitch.
“Relax, kitten. The hard part is over.” Kane’s calm voice rolls over me and settles some of the anxiety in my gut. He’s such a steady presence in my life. Whereas life with Luka is a rollercoaster of extreme emotions, Kane never loses his shit, and I know that whatever happens, I can rely on him.
I take a step toward him, needing to soak up his particular brand of comfort. If we weren’t stuck in the middle of this nest of vipers, I’d wrap my arms around him and rest my cheek on his pecs, but I can’t take the risk someone will notice. Even though I’m steaming drunk, I’m not insane.
I am Angelo Di Rossi’s wife, after all.
So I settle for second best and shift a little closer until our fingers touch. It’s a tiny gesture, but I can’t help but smile when he brushes his thumb across my wrist.
“Where’s the nearest bathroom?” I may as well kill some time in a luxe bathroom, and besides, my bladder is fit to burst. Let’s hope Lorenzo hasn’t daubed the ceiling in there with naked cherubs sucking each other off - I might legit die if he has.
“Outside, second door on the right. I’ll come with you.” He grumbles when I push him back and roll my eyes.
“Jesus, I’ll be fine. Nobody will touch me. Not with Cujo out there chomping on human flesh as a deterrent.” An inappropriate giggle escapes.
Kane frowns but stands aside.
“You better watch Fina in case she faints from boredom.” I cock my head to one side and pretend to think. “Oh wait, that would be a good Plan B.”
“Dare I ask what Plan A is?” Kane looks worried, so I grin and pretend to zip my lips before sauntering off.
In truth, I don’t have a Plan A or any plan at all. But I’m nothing if not adaptable, and if I find a stray box of matches, I’ll happily resort to pyromania to end this party early.
To my intense relief, there is no pornographic ceiling in the bathroom, but I waste some time trying out the various hand lotions. Eventually, knowing Kane will wonder where I’ve got to, I step back out into the hallway.
A server passes carrying a tray of coffee cups, but otherwise, it’s empty. Conversation and soft music float out from the garden room nearby, and from somewhere to my left, I hear mens’ voices and laughter.
The thought of more boring small talk makes me yawn, so I turn right and head deeper into the house. If anyone asks, I’ll pretend I’m lost.
Thick carpet muffles my footsteps. The walls down here are painted a soft terracotta color, and there are vases and paintings at intervals. Everywhere I look, I see gold accents: the picture frames, the light fittings, and even the decorative molding along the ceiling.
The decor in this house is in sharp contrast to the beautiful atrium at the casino hotel, where butterflies fluttered among tropical plants and flowers. I know which one I prefer.
The deeper into the house I go, the quieter it becomes. There are doors on each side of the hallway, but most are closed. Eventually curiosity gets the better of me and I push one open.
It’s dark in here. Dust sheets cover lumps of furniture, and from the stale air, the room hasn’t been used in some time. The next room I peek into is the same.
It’s almost as if this ostentatious house is purely for show. I picture Lorenzo living somewhere else, in a swanky penthouse apartment overlooking the harbor, only bothering to come back to this residence when he wants to entertain guests.
I hum to myself as I explore. It could be a lovely family home if given an extensive makeover. And if the man-eating dogs were re-homed. And by re-homed, I mean sent to the nearest zoo for dangerous predators.
The next door I push open smells of cigars and booze. Tall bookshelves line the walls, and in the corner, a gray filing cabinet stands, topped with files. There’s a large teak desk in front of a window with a view of the gardens, and a leather armchair beside a cold fireplace.
Is this Lorenzo’s home office? It has to be.
I spot a photo of a beautiful, lush-figured, dark-haired woman. She’s smiling at the camera while holding a baby. A dark-eyed toddler clings to her tanned leg, his face half-hidden behind her billowing skirt.
Is this Angelo’s mother? I know nothing about her other than that she’s long dead and Lorenzo cheated on her with a member of his household staff, which produced Luka.
It’s hard to understand why any man would want to cheat on such a beautiful woman, but Lorenzo is a prick, so…
A cream envelope resting on the desk catches my eye. The gold crest seems familiar, and I wonder where I’ve seen it before. Then it clicks. Vivian was carrying an envelope with the same crest when we had our little chat in the bathroom at the hotel gala.
Is it an invitation to an exclusive event? I suppose it could be.
There’s something I’m missing, though. A connection I haven’t quite made.
It niggles at me as I take a step forward, intending to look more closely at the envelope.
But before I can move, a man chuckles lightly behind me, and I freeze.
Lorenzo pushes the door shut while I suck in a panicked breath when I realize he has me cornered. Will Kane be searching for me? I hope so, but then it occurs to me: even if he comes this way, he can’t go against Lorenzo.
Angelo is the only person who has a chance of talking his father down, and he might not care, seeing as how I’ve done exactly what he asked me not to do this evening.
Basically, I’m fucked.
“I got lost looking for the bathroom,” I babble while smiling prettily and fluttering my eyelashes. “Too much wine,” I add, throwing in a hiccup for good measure, even though the adrenaline flooding my system has burned away some of the alcohol.
Lorenzo’s oily gaze snakes down my body, taking in the way the silky fabric drapes across my chest and hips.
“You know, I wasn’t sure why Angelo wanted you so badly,” he remarks, still staring at my breasts.
“You were such a skinny thing as a teenager. No curves. Not at all womanly. But now…” A wet tongue slides out and moistens his lips.
It reminds me of a slug. “Still, it doesn’t matter how fuckable you are when you can’t give him a baby. ”
“Excuse me?” My brain finally processes his vile words. Angelo wanted me? Huh? He made me believe he’d had no choice, and that it was Vivian who brokered the deal. From what Lorenzo just told me, it sounds like Angelo chose me long before Vivian sold me to line her pockets.
“I warned him earlier that if you don’t pop out an heir soon, I’ll have no choice but to get rid of you.” His eyes are blank. Devoid of emotion. The man truly is a psychopath.
It’s a miracle Angelo and Fina are well-adjusted. Well, Fina is. Angelo…not so much.
“Has it ever occurred to you that Angelo might be firing blanks?” I sneer at Lorenzo while edging sideways. The door is only a few feet away, and Lorenzo is swaying slightly after consuming way too much expensive liquor.
If I reach the door, he might let me go.
Yeah, it’s a lousy plan, but I’m all out of ideas.
“My son is as virile as I am,” Lorenzo scoffs loudly. “All the males in our family are.”
I hum thoughtfully. “Ah, but perhaps he prefers fucking men. Ever considered that he married me so I could be his beard?” As far as I know, Angelo isn’t into guys, but it doesn’t hurt to plant the seed of doubt in Lorenzo’s head. He’s old school, and homosexuality is a no-no in his warped world.
Personally, the thought of Kane and Angelo getting it on is a turn-on, but I doubt either of them would be into that. Shame. A mad giggle escapes just as Lorenzo snarls in anger.
Yep, he’s not happy at the idea of his precious heir loving dick.
“How dare you cast such aspersions on my son!” I wince as his angry yell triggers a headache. The bastard lunges at me. Whether to wring my neck or rape me is yet to be determined, but I’m not keen on finding out.
His fingers clasp my arm, and I scream as his nails sink into my flesh.
“You little bitch,” he snarls. “I should demand my money back from your stepmother. You’ve caused me nothing but trouble!”
“Too late for buyer’s remorse,” I cackle, punching him in the balls as adrenaline gives me faster reactions and a strength I don’t normally possess.
Lorenzo sags with a pained oomph, but doesn’t go down like I expect. Instead his fist swings out, catching my cheek.
The blow knocks me sideways. My head hits the edge of his desk, sending me to the floor. White-hot pain bursts through my skull, but I bite my lip and swallow it. Lorenzo doesn’t need to see me hurt. Bastards like him get off on hurting women.
I will not give him the satisfaction.
The cream envelope I spotted when I first walked in here tumbles to the floor, along with a few files and a pot of pens. Before I can overthink it, I quickly scrunch the envelope up in my fist while pretending to catch my breath.
“Angelo’s an adult and I’m his wife. You might not like the fact I haven’t popped out babies like a good little bitch, but there’s fuck-all you can do about it old man.” Lorenzo doesn’t like that.
He reaches down and collars my neck with his fist. For an old man going to seed, he’s surprisingly strong, and even though I struggle, I can’t escape his grip.
“There’s plenty I can do about it, you worthless whore.” Spittle rains down on me as he grins. “Your time is about to end.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? His ominous words rattle around my head as I fight for oxygen, but the room fades. I’m about to pass out.
With one last valiant effort, I reach for the fire poker resting next to the hearth.
Lorenzo’s eyes widen when he sees it arcing toward his bald head.
A fraction of a second before it cracks his skull open like an egg, the door bursts open.