Catalina’s POV
Catalina’s POV
I managed to avoid my husband for the past three days.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull it off for much longer so I had to mentally prepare myself for his attitude and bullshit.
Also, we were to host a dinner within the next few days, so I would have to work on tolerating his presence.
One of Carlo’s biggest allies was expected to be at the dinner as the main guest along with some of his men.
Enrique Lopez was more of a businessman, but very well respected and could get things done.
I knew I was going to have to make an appearance, but I didn’t want to.
I headed down for breakfast, hoping my husband had left for work, but not getting lucky. He was sitting at the smaller table we ate at for meals when it was just us at home. The table was so small and intimate I really didn’t want to be near him, but I needed to suck it up.
He looked up as I walked into the room. I avoided eye contact.
He rose as if to pull out my chair like he usually did, but I moved to another chair and sat in it.
I could feel his presence, still standing for a moment longer, then returned to his chair.
I could feel the tension in the air. But the sad truth, I was used to this from home.
I just didn’t know how he would respond.
I was expecting him to hit me, punch me, or grab me by my hair.
Instead, he remained in his chair, sipping his coffee as the staff came to set my food in front of me.
“Good morning, Miss Catalina.” I had asked all the staff to refer to me this way, giving me some respect, but not the way my mother was addressed in our home.
I didn’t want anything to be like it had been at my childhood home.
They called her Donna. I had never wanted that title.
I honestly didn’t know what my title would have been considering Carlo is not a Don, but I didn’t want such titles.
“Morning, Mrs. Silvia. How are you doing today?”
She seemed hesitant to respond. We usually greeted each other this way, but it had been three days since being in my husband’s presence.
“Ummm, I’m doing just fine, Miss Catalina. And you?” She didn’t sound like she really wanted to ask, so to put her out of her misery I kept my response simple.
“I’m okay. Thanks for asking.” I forced a smile for her, then turned to my breakfast of eggs, sausage, and toast.
The only sound for a few minutes was my cutlery scraping against the plate as I ate, continuing to ignore my husband. Normally I sat directly next to him, but I chose a seat across and to the side from him. I could feel him watching me.
“Catalina. We need to talk.”
I didn’t bother to respond to that. I kept eating like he hadn’t said a word.
“You need to stop this bullshit and move your shit back into our room.”
I continued eating, continued ignoring, and just being in his presence.
He slammed his hand down hard on the table, making me jolt, but I continued eating and ignoring him.
He stood up, bumping into the table, and moved towards me.
I felt myself tense, bracing for the impact, but was not expecting it when his hand swiped out, knocking my plate off the table, making it shatter to the floor.
I closed my eyes, still chewing the food in my mouth, holding the fork up mid-air.
Carlo spoke with restrained anger. “Look at me, Catalina.”
I finished chewing, with my eyes still closed, as his breathing came out heavy. Then I opened my eyes, placed the fork on the table, then looked up at my husband.
His eyes were hard and angry. “Did you hear what I said?”
In a calm voice, I said, “You said to look at you.”
His jaw tightened. “Before that?”
I shrugged. “Something about you moving your whore mistress into your room.”
His eyes narrowed, the tension rolling off of him in waves.
“That’s not even close to what I fucking said, Catalina.”
I shrugged again. It was really hard looking at the man I fell in love with, looking at me with anger and hate, but he put that look on his own face. He did this to us. There really was no going back after this.
“Well, since you want to put your dick in other women, feel free to bring them to your room.”
“Our room, Catalina. Our room.”
“Not anymore. You made sure of that when you put on that disgusting show for me. Which you did on purpose.”
He rubbed his hand down his face looking frustrated. “It didn’t mean anything, Catalina.”
“Oh but it did, Carlo. You reminded me I am just an arrangement, and that’s exactly how things will continue.
I know I can’t leave you, but if you ever get the urge to divorce me, feel free.
Nothing holding you back. Definitely not me.
” I forced a smile at him. I had mastered the fake smile better than my own mother. I had practice.
He leaned down and was only a few inches from my face, feeling his breath on me. His voice was tight. “There will be no divorce. You are my wife. Nothing changes that.”
I smiled sweetly at him. “Oh well. Guess you’ll just have to get used to having your so-called wife living in the guest room while your whore sleeps in your room with you. I would think you would be happier with the new arrangement since you set all this in motion.”
He stood up. “When your done having a fucking tantrum, move your shit back to our room. And you might as well not bother coming to the dinner. I’ll handle it myself.”
I frowned at him. “What does that mean?”
“Don’t come to dinner. You’ll have a headache or what the fuck ever excuse I come up with.”
He stormed out of the room, leaving me wondering what he meant by not coming to the dinner. I needed to be there, to show our so-called unity.
He wouldn’t invite his whore, would he? That would be disrespectful for so many reasons.
Screw him. I’ll make an appearance, but fashionably late, so he won’t suspect. And if he brings that whore, I will make a spectacle. Fuck my husband!
????????????????????
The next day, and the day before the dinner, I had an appointment with a local clinic.
I had not been feeling well, making me suspicious that I was pregnant.
The timing would be horrible, but pregnancies never knew about timing.
If I had known I was pregnant before what I witnessed, would it have made a difference?
Would he still have made a scene, or would he have continued to hide it?
Would it have mattered? How long has he been sleeping with Emily? Were there others?
I couldn’t do this to myself. I would spiral. I was taught to keep control. Stand your ground. Don’t let anyone in to tear you down. Don’t give anyone power over you. I had failed miserably, but now I knew better. I knew to lock myself down again.
During the drive to the center the clinic was located at, my mind wandered.
Again I wished I had been arranged into an Italian clan.
Maybe Dominic Gutierrez’s clan. He had been arranged to Don Sanchez’s daughter, Sophie.
The bitch was fat and she got a good one.
Hell, I heard he actually fell in love with her.
She’s six months pregnant and word is he worships her.
So jealous of her. Stupid bitch! And here I am with a cheating, lying whore of a husband. It wasn’t fair.
As we pulled into the center, I told the driver to stay back. I’d probably be an hour or two doing some shopping. The clinic was in a popular shopping area, thank goodness. I had also already scoped out a back entrance so the driver wouldn’t know exactly where I was going.
It took me a little longer going the long way to the clinic than I had anticipated, but it had to be done.
I didn’t want Carlo to know. Not yet. If I was pregnant, I needed to figure out how it was going to go.
I needed to be prepared. I would plan to stay in the guest room.
I had no intention of returning to his room, and he probably would bring his whore to the room now that the discussion had happened.
I was anxious, waiting for my turn, so much so, I felt like I was going to be sick. Once I was called back, it took everything in me to get up and follow the assistant. I told her I wanted a pregnancy test to confirm what I had already seen on at least one take-home pregnancy test.
I did the peeing in the cup and blood draw for the tests.
Then I waited, impatiently, until the doctor returned and told me what I was dreading.
Pregnant. I think she could see the reservation on my face when she gave me the news.
She told me options. I was only half listening. I was ten weeks along.
I had returned to the car, forgetting about my excuse of shopping. I made some lame excuse that I ended up just having a coffee, but I doubt he was buying it.
When I walked into the front door, I was lost in my own thoughts, until I heard the talking. The house staff were discussing the dinner for the following night in the kitchen.
“I heard the Master told the Missus not to attend.”
“I heard he invited Miss Rodriguez as a guest.”
That motherfucker!
“If the Missus shows up for the dinner with Miss Rodriguez present, it’s going to look bad for the Master.” She sounded anxious.
It was definitely going to look bad when I arrived for dinner.