Chapter 14 #2
I didn’t miss the grueling sixteen-hour workdays, the toxic industry expectations, and the constant fear that came with a life in the public eye.
I also wasn’t sure when to tell Jude about my former career, uncertain of how to put it to him.
Did it matter to him who I was in my previous life?
Probably not, given our relationship was purely platonic, minus the mind-blowing sex last night.
I tamped the thought and focused on the scene playing out onscreen, which was pure comedy gold.
The main guy, Roman, had just gotten caught hiding in a closet by his girlfriend’s dad.
He was trying so hard to act tough and look hot in his silk button-down, but he got covered in dry-cleaning plastic and trailing hangers behind him.
Meanwhile, his girl was in the background crying, screaming at the top of her lungs, and swearing to the heavens that it was all a huge misunderstanding.
I shook my head, laughing out loud just as my phone rang.
My heart skipped a beat as Jude’s name flashed on the display.
I picked up.
‘Hey.’
‘How are you?’
His signature, timbred rasp sent shivers down my spine.
‘I’m awesome, eating and bingeing a show.’
‘Let me guess a soap opera and the main guy is acting macho while his girl cries a river?’
‘It’s so tragic, but I’m addicted.’
He let out a rare chuckle, and it hit me that despite our ‘mistake’ last night, we were building a slow, undeniable rapport.
‘Babe, the mixing session is running over. Don’t wait up. Just make sure the front doors are locked and get some sleep.’
‘All good. See you soon,’ I told him.
The faint sound of heavy bass and the guys arguing over a track bled through the phone before he hung up.
I was relieved about the alone time.
I had delicious food, endless trash TV, and way more peace than I’d had in years; my version of bliss.
I also needed time to work through my feelings about Jude, and his absence, for a little while at least, gave me the space to do so.
A loud chime from the front doorbell jolted me from the television.
With a grimace, I paused the show.
Who was coming by Jude’s house at this hour?
It was way past the time for deliveries, and whoever it was had a code to get through the gate.
Worry lanced me as I set my bowl down, pulled my hair into a rough bun, and slipped my feet into slippers.
Heading to the entryway, I glanced at the security screen by the front door.
A woman whose features I couldn’t quite make out stood outside.
She was a stranger to me, but perhaps she was an acquaintance of Jude’s.
With some wariness, I pulled open the mahogany front door.
The tall, strikingly elegant blonde woman swiveled to face me.
Her made-up face was model-perfect, from her blue eyes to her pert raspberry lips.
She wore a fitted cream midi dress, her ivory designer trench coat tailored to her frame, screaming haute couture.
Her high leather tan heels seemed molded to her beautiful ankles.
She raked me from head to toe, and I sensed I hadn’t quite passed whatever test she put me to.
She then tried to peer around me, into the house.
‘Where’s Judah?’ she demanded, her cold voice dripping with entitlement as she attempted to brush past me into the foyer. ‘He hasn’t answered my messages. In fact, he’s ghosted me for a few weeks now!’
I planted my feet and held the door edge, blocking her path with a sudden surge of protective instinct.
‘He’s not here right now. Can I take a message?’
The woman stopped, her blue eyes narrowing on me with disdain as she cataloged my oversized tee and the slippers.
‘Who are you? The new cleaning service? The maid? You’re here late, and seem way too comfortable in his house. Does he know you’re here?’
Her tone and contempt told me she perceived me as beneath her, dirt under her designer heels.
I tilted my head, gave her a small smile, and lifted my left hand, letting the brilliant diamond wedding ring catch the light from the overhead chandelier.
‘He does. I’m Sofia. I’m Jude’s wife. Who are you?’
She reeled back as if struck across the face, her flawless complexion turning a mottled red.
She blinked several times at my diamond, then raked her eyes over me, still caught in disbelief.
‘The hell? I’m Abby,’ she said, her voice dropping into a harsh register.
I jolted at the name as she continued with her diatribe.
‘You’re his what? Wife? No freakin’ way. You’ve got to be kidding me. Judah wouldn’t marry someone like you.’
A condescending laugh slipped from her lips, the sound making me tense.
Cazzo, this was Abby.
The woman whose name slipped from Jude’s lips right before he made love to me.
A wave of nausea hit me, but I swallowed it down, forcing my face to remain a mask.
My mind raced, however, as I compared myself to her.
She was nothing like me, whatsoever.
She was lissome and tall, a knockout with bombshell-bright, buttery-blonde, glossy hair, resembling a bona fide cover girl.
This was his type.
It had been naive of me to think I’d have a chance against her, or that this marriage of convenience would be smooth sailing.
Still, I held the cards for now.
‘He married me; ask him yourself if you don’t believe me,’ I said, my voice steady despite my roiling emotions.
‘I will, and we’ll see how long you two last,’ she sneered, crossing her arms.
Don’t let her get to you, I told myself, locking my jaw.
I refused to give this woman the satisfaction of seeing her shake my confidence.
Even as the memory of Jude whispering her name in bed played back in my mind.
I tamped down my frustration and self-blame, forcing my chin up as I met her gaze with cool indifference.
‘Well, we’re married, you can check in with him, or Maggie and Kian, they were our witnesses.’
Her face switched from pale to flushed, a red tinge creeping up her face.
‘This must be some joke. You have to be some random groupie he picked up at a dive bar or a concert to spite me.’
‘It’s not a prank, signora,’ I replied, keeping my voice level despite the frantic hammering in my chest. ‘As I said, take it up with him if you’ve any doubts.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ she spat, her cold mask slipping as she threw a finger into my face, causing her expensive leather handbag to slam against her hip.
‘You’re nothing to him, he’s never mentioned you before, and he won’t be throwing his life away on trash.
He must have gone mad during this tour. I need to have a word to set him straight.
Enjoy your little game while it lasts, hussy. ’
I arched a brow at her insult.
Hussy?
How uninspired.
How about la vera regina, the queen bitch, who bagged the man while she was out here crashing and burning like a cheap cozza?
I wanted to call out after her, but I bit my tongue.
Huffing, I tracked her enraged retreat as she turned on her heel and stormed down the limestone steps.
Her heels clicked with fury as she took off down the gravel driveway.
She got into her car, a late-model German sedan, switched on the engine, and spun off with a screech.
I stood at the threshold, taking a deep inhale to steady my shaking hands.
‘Che Dio ti benedica, donna,’ I muttered under my breath as her taillights vanished through the security gates.
Bless you, Abby.
I chose to let her go with no ill will rather than allow her venom to poison my new life.