24. Isabella
CHAPTER 24
Isabella
“ I can help you with dinner tonight, mia cognata ,” Gia simpered to Amalia over breakfast. She had been staying at the estate for three days now, and somehow, I had resisted the urge to smack the ever-living shit out of her.
Just barely.
“I could use some help making the salad,” Amalia said with a smile that I could tell was fake.
But Gia beamed. “Of course! I make an amazing salad dressing; you all will love it.”
I seriously doubted it. From what I had learned in the past several weeks was that Lorenzo was a creature of habit, especially when it came to food. He liked pattern and routine, and he had his favorite meals that Amalia rotated just enough so that no one else got bored.
I must have made some kind of sound because Gia whipped her head around to look at me. “I don’t see you offering to help with anything,” she spat at me.
I pasted on a smile too big to be anything but false. “Amalia wouldn’t want my help,” I said. “Beyond making a decent cup of coffee, I am absolutely useless in the kitchen.”
Gia rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised that you can’t cook?” She sighed and fluffed at her perfectly curled hair. Her makeup, too, was artfully applied. It was half past seven in the morning. When did she get up this morning? “Is there anything that you can do?” She looked down her nose at me.
But did he pick you to sleep in his bed last night? I had woken up in Lorenzo’s bed this morning with him curved around me, and I still didn’t know what to make of it. In the warm haze of the moment, I had rolled over, eager to get my hands on him. There hadn’t been time, but Lorenzo had looked at me softly and called me dolcezza , and despite everything that I had been through, what he’d put me through, I had felt so warm.
But now, staring down Gia over my eggs, I felt cold and off-kilter. The more I slept in Lorenzo’s bed, the more often I ended up in his arms, the more that feeling settled into the core of my being.
Having Gia in the house only made that feeling worse. Her little digs were getting to me, as much as I was loath to admit it, and as much as Lorenzo didn’t respond to her flirting, he didn’t stop it either.
“Gia,” Amalia scolded gently. “There’s no reason to be rude.”
She blinked, as if she were shocked. “Who’s being rude? That was a genuine question: what is she doing here?”
“I’m paying off a debt,” I said. I knew that she had been told that much, and for whatever reason, that explanation seemed to piss her off even more.
“Lorenzo brought you into his home to do that?” She scoffed. “The Vitali family has a dozen facilities where he could have placed you.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What, exactly, are you doing for Lorenzo? Because it stops the second he marries me.”
I couldn’t help myself: I laughed. Immediately, I knew it was a mistake, but there was no taking it back now. “I’m sorry,” I said, not sincere in the slightest. “I just wonder if you’re putting the cart before the horse a little.”
Gia’s brow wrinkled, confused. “What?”
“I haven’t seen Lorenzo say more than a handful of words to you,” I said. “Why would you think for a second that he intended to marry you?”
It took a moment for my words to sink in, and then her face sank into a bitter, angry expression. “My father will arrange my marriage to Lorenzo,” she said, and she sounded absolutely sure in that regard. Like she had no doubts that her father would be able to convince a grown, nearly forty-year-old man to take a wife that he didn’t want.
I nodded. “I wish you luck with that,” I said and grabbed my plate. I had only eaten half of my breakfast, but I couldn’t stomach anymore.
Gia followed me, clutching her own plate in her hands. “When I do become Lorenzo’s wife, I promise to find you a place better suited to your talents.” She handed her plate to me. “I think we can put you somewhere out of sight,” she mused. “No one really wants to look at Quasimodo, after all.”
Her words slipped down my body like ice water. Besides Lorenzo, no one had ever dared to bring up my scars…and she had only seen the ones on my face. She didn’t know the worst of it was hiding beneath my shirt.
Even when my face looked worse, back when the scars were new and red and even uglier than they were now, no one ever said it outright. I didn’t get second dates, and some of my friends didn’t invite me out as often, dropping our interactions to text and social media, but no one insulted me to my face.
I put the two plates down in the sink, and then I turned, almost calmly, and slapped her across the face. My palm smarted from how hard it had connected with her cheek. Gia yelped and grabbed at her face. “How dare you?” she squalled before running from the kitchen.
I knew where she was going, so I didn’t bother following after her. Lorenzo would come find me soon enough, I was sure. Instead of worrying over it, I started washing the breakfast dishes. After a few moments, Amalia joined me. “I was wondering when you were going to find your balls,” she said, nudging my shoulder.
“She’s going to tattle on me.”
Amalia hummed in agreement. “You know that he doesn’t care for her.”
“He doesn’t hate the attention either,” I countered.
She chuckled humorlessly. “What man hates being flirted with by pretty women? Elio would sooner cut off his own arm than give another woman the time of day, but I still have to deal with the looks when we’re out together.” She nudged me again. “If you’re going to be with Lorenzo?—”
“I’m not with Lorenzo.” My throat felt tight, and I willed the feeling away. “We have a deal, that’s all.”
Her expression softened, but before she could say whatever comforting bullshit that was on the tip of her tongue, Lorenzo came into the kitchen like a thunderstorm. His presence filled the space with almost crackling, dangerous energy. “Amalia,” he barked. “Out.”
She went without even a glance my way. I didn’t blame her. I would have done the same if I had been in her place. “I won’t apologize to her,” I said, not bothering to turn around.
His fingers gripped the back of my neck and wheeled me around to face him. I swallowed hard. He looked two steps away from murder. “I won’t put up with squabbling like this. I have no patience for pettiness. You’re not my girlfriend,” he said flatly. “You’re not my wife. You’re a warm body in my bed, understand? You have no standing in this house.”
Numbed, I nodded. “Yes.”
He put a hand on my cheek, almost shockingly gentle in comparison to the fire in his eyes. “If you can’t find a way to behave while you’re here, I’ll put you to work somewhere else until your debt is paid off. I’m sure you’d be well-liked by some of our clients at the casino.”
I shivered. I knew that Lorenzo’s casino was steeped in illegal activity, but so far, I hadn’t seen it, and he didn’t talk about it around me. To be threatened so blatantly, it made my stomach roll.
I heard a scoff from somewhere behind Lorenzo. “I can’t see anyone who would possibly pay for her,” Gia said. Her voice was bitter and mean. It was probably the closest she had been to her authentic self since coming here. “Make sure you give them a good discount…or give them a bag to put over her face.”
Lorenzo let go of me, turning to her with a snarl. “Let me remind you, Ms. Gallo, that you are only welcome here because I owe your father a favor. If you continue to berate my people, I will send you back to him a piece at a time.”
He left the room without another word, leaving Gia and I shivering in his wake.