Chapter 19 Angelo
Angelo
The mayor presses his sweaty palm into mine, and I force a smile while silently wishing I’d skipped this event. Losing my shit with my wife is a sharp reminder she gets under my skin like nobody else. Not even my asshole father.
I must have been nuts if I thought the damn woman would behave.
My frustration grows as the minutes tick by. I would leave right now if not for the speech I have to give before the auction begins. Fina would never forgive me if I left her in the lurch.
The woman who has taken great delight in telling everyone within earshot that she’s well now is standing next to me. Not quite within touching distance, but close enough that the scent of her vanilla perfume makes my mouth water.
After my meltdown earlier, I’ve not touched another drop of alcohol. It’s hard enough controlling myself around her as it is, so adding more booze into the mix would be disastrous.
People are giving us a wide berth. It’s as if they’re terrified mental illness is catching, and if they come too close, they, too, might have a breakdown.
The younger women throw me sympathetic looks, like they wish they could heal my emotional wound with their cunts, while the men stare at my wife with hungry eyes.
I make a mental note of who I need to kill.
Chiara may hate me—and trust me, the feeling is mutual right now—but these clowns really ought to know better than to ogle the gorgeous woman staring daggers at me while I make small talk with the mayor.
Thankfully, she hasn’t attempted to join in the conversation. From the glazed look in her eyes, she’s bored, which has encouraged her to drink more.
I’ve been keeping count, and this is her third glass in less than two hours. My wife has a low tolerance for alcohol. One more glass and she’ll be pole dancing on the T-Rex’s leg.
“Have we met, dear?” The mayor peers at Chiara once our talk about his reelection campaign dries up. I swallow my sigh. He’s an idiot, but a harmless one.
“Not unless you recently spent six months having electroshock therapy in a Swiss sanatorium?” She blinks before offering him a manic smile.
If I could take her home, I would. The damn woman is a liability.
She bares her teeth at me when I reach for her hand, squeezing it tight enough that she winces.
Kane stands a couple of feet away, watching my back.
From the way he snorted, he must have heard what she said.
The bastard’s loving her performance this evening.
So is Marjorie, the bitch who writes the society column.
Tomorrow’s report will be…interesting.
Dad will blow a gasket.
He’ll probably eviscerate me over breakfast.
And Fina will get it in the neck around the same time.
Chiara is oblivious to the carnage she’s causing and probably wouldn’t care if she did know.
With a bland smile and murmured promises of a hefty campaign donation, I drag her away from the mayor before she can wax lyrical about her imaginary drug regimen.
“Fina will have a nightmare dealing with the stories your bullshit act is generating this evening,” I hiss once we’re out of earshot of nearby guests. The urge to drag her back into that side room and spank her ass into submission rides me hard.
The blind auction begins in ten minutes, and I’m expected to give a brief speech and then bid stupid money on things I don’t want. All to raise money for tonight’s charity.
“Why will Fina have a nightmare?” Chiara’s grin falls away.
“Our father will read the papers tomorrow and blame her for the shit your Oscar-winning performance has generated.”
“Oh.” She has the grace to look guilty before her murderous expression returns. “It’s your fucking fault for contriving such a dumb story!” Venom drips from her pouty red lips, and I lose focus for a moment, imagining those lips wrapped around my cock.
“You’re not even fucking listening to me!” She’s correct, but I roll my eyes.
“Kids, can we keep a lid on it, please?” My sister’s voice breaks through the swirling tension between Chiara and me. The tense smile on her face tells me she’s not enjoying this gala. Travis Marconi is nowhere to be seen, thank god. I can’t stand the guy.
“Oh, hey, Fina.” Chiara offers Fina a cautious, slightly apologetic smile.
“Hey.” Fina straightens her shoulders and focuses on me. “Please don’t mess this up, Angelo. I need you to mention the foundation and remind people of the work we’re doing. Maybe that will distract them from the mess that is your private life.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” Chiara chews her lip and looks at the floor. My sister, being the angel she is, pats Chiara’s arm.
“It’s okay. I know you didn’t want to come, and honestly, I don’t blame you for acting out. If I were you, I’d be angry and upset too.” Fina’s eyes are suspiciously shiny, and I wonder why her professional mask has slipped.
I slant a look at Kane, and he nods. He’ll check in with Matteo to find out what’s caused my usually unflappable sister to lose her cool.
“You’d be calm and polite,” Chiara disagrees with a faint smile. “Oh, and thank you for this lovely dress.” She gestures at her exquisite dress.
Fina frowns. “Angelo chose it. Didn’t he tell you?”
“Um no, I assumed it came from you.”
Chiara picks at the skirt of the dress I spent a fucking fortune on because I knew it would look amazing on her. And it does.
If she didn’t make me so fucking insane, I’d buy her anything she wanted.
Several long seconds pass while Fina’s gaze flips back and forth between me and Chiara.
“I don’t need anything from you,” my wife snarls eventually, her lips curled in derision. “Except a fucking divorce.”
I stare out at the sea of faces as the chatter dies. Fina is a much better public speaker than I am. I find threats more efficient, but I can be charming when I have to be.
“Thank you all for coming this evening,” I begin while keeping one eye on Chiara. Kane stands at her shoulder, with Fina to her left. The odious Travis Marconi has reappeared, much to everyone’s disgust. Drunk as a skunk, and from his dilated pupils, he’s done a few lines in the toilet.
Why our father thinks he’s a good match for Fina is beyond me. I fully expect the weasel to meet an unfortunate end at Matteo’s hand before the night ends. And from the way Kane grimaces when Marconi tries to grope Fina’s ass, he agrees.
Fina not so subtly shoves Marconi away, catching Chiara’s attention and causing me to lose the thread of what I was saying. I clear my throat and smile, hoping my good looks and charming personality are enough to save me.
They’re not.
A few guests frown. They must have heard the whispers about my insane wife.
Fina sighs and sends me a silent message that I receive loud and clear. I take a deep breath before speaking.
“As you all know, our family’s charitable foundation is fully committed to helping those less fortunate than us.” People nod as I breeze through the usual spiel, anxious to get this shit over with so we can leave.
By the time I’ve wrapped things up and implored those gathered here tonight to dig deep into their bottomless pockets, I feel like poking my eyes with sharp sticks. Fina joins me on the podium, thanks everyone, and then the charity auction begins.
“Is Marconi bothering you?” I murmur as we pass through the throngs of people near the edge of the room.
“He’s an asshole, but nothing I can’t handle,” she replies with a sigh. When we reach Chiara and Kane, Marconi is still hovering, only this time, his attention has drifted to my wife. And from her tense demeanor, she’s noticed and is not happy about it.
The coke must have obliterated his good sense. Nobody in their right mind would dare stare at my wife’s tits in front of me. Or ignore my sister, the woman he’s supposedly on a date with at our father’s behest.
Kane seems less than amused too, but he won’t do anything unless I give him permission. Marconi’s family has connections. If something too calamitous happens to the little cockroach, it could cause me problems.
I try hard to keep that nugget at the forefront of my mind while Fina checks her phone. Marconi drifts closer to Chiara. She ignores him, but he’s not deterred.
“You must be Angelo’s wife. I don’t think we’ve had a formal introduction,” he says while licking his lips and staring at her tits again.
“Fuck off.” She gives him a look that could strip paint from steel.
Marconi grins, undeterred as Chiara turns to my sister with a loud huff of annoyance. “Want me to punch your date in the dick, Fina?”
Fina bites back a smile and pushes her phone back in her clutch.
“No need, darling,” I interject. “Please excuse me for a moment while Travis and I have a quiet word.” The color leeches from Marconi’s face as he finally realizes he’s overstepped. Before he can protest, I grip his arm and lead him away from the main hall.
A few people nod as we pass, but nobody tries to stop me.
When we’re free of the main crowd, I push Marconi into a deserted side gallery filled with glass cases.
A quick glance tells me this is the most boring fucking room in the entire museum.
Weapons interest me but staring at cases of Bronze Age arrowheads is not on my list of things to do this evening.
“Look, Angelo, I’m sorry if I disrespected your, um, wife.”
“And my sister?” I shove the asshole back against a glass display cabinet. He throws his hands in the air in a half-assed apology.
“Look, dude, I may have overdone the happy powder this evening.” A loud sniff reinforces the statement. “Don’t suppose you have any on you? Could do with another hit.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Travis.
” Is this asshole carrying a wire? I step back and shake my head, some of my anger dissipating.
What the fuck am I doing? I shouldn’t have left Chiara.
Fuck, she’s probably already brainstorming a distraction so she can escape while I waste time with Travis Fucking Marconi.
Deciding Travis isn’t worth my time, I pull a gun and press it to his dick.
“Tell your father Fina isn’t right for you and never look at my wife again. Are we clear?”
Marconi tries to push me back, still emboldened by the lines of coke he snorted earlier, but he’s a lot shorter and at least fifteen kilos lighter.
I release the safety, and he freezes. The distinctive scent of urine fills the air, making me grimace.
If he’s pissed all over my shoes, I will fucking bury him in an Egyptian sarcophagus. Damn the consequences.
“I’m sorry!” The blubbering fool whimpers and falls to the floor as I take a giant step back.
“Go to rehab, Travis, for fuck’s sake, before you get yourself arrested or killed.” I might still drop a call to a detective contact. Pretty sure he’d love to catch Marconi with his dealer. It would be a high-profile arrest for him, the sort of case that guarantees a promotion.
I stalk out of the room, kicking the door shut behind me. If Marconi has any sense, he’ll call his driver and leave before someone finds him.
There are no new messages on my phone, which tells me all is well, but before I can step back into the main hall, a strawberry blonde crosses my path with rage in her eyes. She folds her arms across her small tits and glares at me.
“You fucking bastard!”