CHAPTER 56 - RED
CHAPTER
Red
N ODDING AT THE WAITER filling up both our glasses of Romanée Conti, I then wait for him to move away from the table before turning my concentration back to Arianna.
I didn’t expect her shift in demeanor this afternoon to be what it is now.
I expected indignant rage or crucifying embarrassment following my glaring rejection, but she shows neither.
Much to my surprise, she appears more relaxed than I’ve seen her yet. I’m not exaggerating in describing her as happy . It’s confusing and, I must admit, not what I’d hoped for.
Pulling my suit jacket sleeve back, I glance at my Rolex.
Almost eight o’clock, yet we’ve barely said two words to each other.
My mind is still dissecting that hand-delivered note, allegedly sent by Edoardo Bristoni.
Despite my analysis, I’m no further along in thinking of alternative senders, even though the niggling doubt it’s Bristoni, remains.
I’m edgy and stressed, and Arianna’s confidence and grace disconcert me. It isn’t supposed to run like this. I’m not supposed to feel off-kilter by this unexpected about-turn. It only leaves me open to notice the other things I want to blank out.
Like how drop-dead fucking gorgeous she is.
I can’t help my eyes from running over the tight-fitting satin cocktail dress she wears tonight. It brings out the blue highlights of her eyes and, not for the first time, I regret my decision to rebuff her when she finally gets on her knees to beg for me.
Remember, she’s a Galvatore .
Oh well, I asked her to dress classy, and she has. With bells on!
But the way she’s done her hair; the way those wavy tendrils fall free from the rest piled up on her head to cascade around her bare shoulders and with her flawless skin radiant in the ambient amber lighting of the private booth I made sure was available, she’s driving me to distraction.
Dell’Oro’s restaurant is one of my favorites, and although I haven’t been here for some time, I appreciate the ma?tre d’ ensuring this particular table was available for me, like it always was.
Arianna studies me over the rim of her wineglass. Taking a leisurely sip, she slowly runs her tongue along her bottom lip.
My groin tightens.
She’s doing this on purpose. I must not forget that this woman is a manipulative bitch.
I can’t let my guard drop again. I’ve done that once already, and it got me nothing but shit.
Rolling my shoulders, I take a cigarette from my packet and tap the end on the table.
“Mind if I smoke?” I light up before she can respond.
“I’m surprised you chose an Italian as your restaurant of choice... Is this your way of apologizing because you think I’ll appreciate the food of my country?”
Arianna’s tone isn’t sarcastic - more mischievous, but it won’t work. “I have nothing to apologize for, princess,” I smirk, playing her back at whatever she’s doing. “Your company has no bearing on my choice. Dell’Oro’s is a favorite of mine.”
“So much of a favorite, the ma?tre d’ said it’s been months since you were last here!
” She arches an eyebrow, leaving me to silently condemn Adriano for mentioning that.
Instead, I smile at the woman who, according to the rest of the general public, is my new wife, who I’m “blissfully happy” with.
If only they knew... However, several people clocked our arrival, therefore it’s important to keep up appearances.
I shrug, keeping a well-practiced smile in place.
“When you’re busy, certain things take precedence over frivolities, such as eating out, but.
..” I reach over the table and take Arianna’s hand.
“...I have to make exceptions now I have such a beautiful wife who must not remain hidden behind closed doors.”
Ah, there it is - the flash of irritation in her violet eyes and the immediate knee-jerk reaction to pull her hand from mine. But she knows better. Having a reputation to uphold is the only thing keeping her from ripping her hand away from mine.
I take the opportunity to rub my thumb rhythmically against Arianna’s wrist. Her pulse is rapid, and if my touch does to her what the feel of her skin is doing to me, then I’m making her squirm.
How I’d love to slip my hand underneath this pure white tablecloth and slide it between her legs to prove she’s wet for me.
I guarantee that she is.
Wouldn’t it be fun to make her come in public, knowing she couldn’t do anything about it...
My eyes dance and my cock hardens with the prospect, but my hands remain on the table, as do hers.
Arianna moves her focus from my thumb circling and stroking her wrist to look at me.
To the untrained observer, she gazes adoringly at her new husband, but I know differently by the hint of mockery behind her stunning eyes.
“You must have been extremely busy these last few months.” She smiles sweetly. “I wonder if that period of absence from your favorite restaurant and usual table tallies with losing the woman you used to bring here?”
My eyes darken. How the fuck did she work that out?
It’s true that Dell’Oro’s was Lorna’s favorite place.
After I’d got rid of her, the place served as a reminder of what she did, so out of principle, I vowed never to darken its doors again.
But it’s also the only place with such a private table, so that overrides another of my vows.
Anger ignited; I tighten my grip on Arianna’s wrist. “Look, you...”
“Oh, Grazia!” Arianna extracts herself from me to beam at the waiter laying out our food in front of us. “Sembra delizioso!” Turning to me, she smiles equally as convincingly. “Darling, doesn’t this look amazing?”
I smile, matching her shitty act. “It does indeed.” I nod my thanks to the waiter and picking up my fork, stab it into my spaghetti.
I cut Arianna a look. Another dig about Lorna while she plays the perfect wife?
She’s good, I’ll give her that.
It’s another reminder that Arianna Galvatore has many facets of which I need to keep myself aware of at all times.