Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sienna
The present
My eyes snap open, disoriented. I’m alone in my new bedroom, the king-size bed swallowing me whole.
What kind of game is my current husband playing? Fabien didn’t try to join me in bed after that bombshell of an admission last night, one that I’m still reeling from.
Revisionist history.
My mind forbids my heart to consider anything else.
But what if he’s telling the truth? A little voice whispers.
I tell that little voice to shut up as I fumble for my phone. It’s after nine. What time was Fabien supposed to leave? In the back of my mind, I faintly recall Saint saying it was eight sharp.
Throwing back the covers, I jump out of bed. “Fabien,” I call, hurrying to the guest room.
Empty.
I hurry outside to the courtyard. Other than a busted bottle, there’s no sign of him.
Fabien left without telling me goodbye, and what’s left of my heart is being twisted like a piece of saltwater taffy.
He murdered the fed for me.
The little voice is getting louder, and isn’t that inconvenient? I thought I had the upper hand. I thought I had my feelings in check. I thought…the client left last night.
But when I flip on the light in the kitchen, here he is, slumped over the table.
That damn fox figurine, positioned front and center.
My body trembles as I approach the corpse, and that’s when I see the note next to my wedding ring set.
Sienna,
Sorry, baby, I tried, but I’m not cut out to be a cuckold. You’ll have to find another way to punish me. And you’re not the only one who died that night. I’ve been flatlining for nearly a decade without you.
Forever your loving husband,
Fabien
“No! No! No!” I stomp my foot like a petulant child.
The doorbell rings, and I sprint down the stairs, knowing damn well who’s here. Opening it, I usher Saint inside. “Your boss is a lunatic,” I hiss.
“You married the man,” he points out.
“Under duress!” I argue. “This way.” I lead Saint to the kitchen, where he doesn’t appear phased as he opens his bag and begins gloving up.
He releases a sardonic breath. “Glad to see the boss took my warning to heart and was on his best behavior.” He glances over to me. “Mrs. Calvani, it would be best if you leave the room while I…”
“Law school taught you how to dismember and dispose of a body?” I move behind the island and pour myself an espresso.
“Law school taught me what not to do when dismembering and disposing of a body,” Saint corrects me.
I bring the cup to my lips, taking a much-needed first sip. Eyeing the dead body turns the rich taste of Italian beans into acidic swill. With a groan, I dump out the coffee in the sink. “There’s blood on my hands.”
“In that case, don’t move, and don’t touch a thing,” he warns. “We’ll decontaminate once I’m finished.”
“Clark, I meant figuratively,” I mutter, walking out.
Hysterical laughter bubbles in my chest, and I barely make it to my bathroom before I begin crying.
Fabien broke his marriage contract for me.
He murdered the fed for me.
He went to prison for…
“Shut up!” I slide to my ass, wrapping my arms around my knees as I sob.
After a shower filled with confusion, more tears, and more confusion, I get dressed only to realize I’ve started my period.
And then panic really sets in. Please, God, tell me the movers didn’t throw away my box of pads!
Everything’s tossed from the vanity cabinets until it looks like a tornado hit this room, but the box isn’t here.
I sprint downstairs to my work studio, searching the desk, and my heart begins beating once again when I find the worn box. With trembling fingers, I remove the pad and clutch the photo in my hands.
“Mrs. Calvani, are you alright?” Saint appears, looking ever the mild-mannered lawyer.
“Fine.” My voice is too high as I slip my hand with the photograph inside my pocket.
“Everything’s good upstairs. Your security detail should be arriving soon.”
“Security detail? You mean spies for my husband.” I cross my arms.
“What’s in your pocket, Mrs. Calvani?” Saint’s gaze zeros in on it.
“Seems Fabien doesn’t need spies when he has you,” I say with pursed lips. “It’s a pad, if you must know. You can be a good little snitch and tell your boss I’ve started my period.” With the flourish of my hand, I swipe the pad box into the desk drawer and shut it.
Saint’s cheeks heat. “Um, perhaps that’s something the two of you can discuss when you visit your husband this afternoon—”
“Oh, I’m not visiting my husband,” I correct him.
No way I’m seeing Fabien again until I have a solid footing beneath me. Even if he was telling the truth about avenging me, it wouldn’t have been necessary had he left the lounge with me in the first place.
Nobody.
The man destroyed me with one word. And if I have half a brain cell left, I’ll never forget it.
“But—”
“The deal was that I marry Fabien; nothing about my ‘duties’ as wife was specified.” The doorbell rings, and I breeze past him.
Saint beats me to the door, glancing out the peephole before opening it.
A man dressed in tactical gear is holding a monster of a dog on a leash. “Mrs. Calvani,” the man addresses me.
“Yes?” Hate how quickly I answer to that name.
“I’m head of your security and handler for your new guard dog.”
Saint hands me an envelope, and I open another letter with Fabien’s familiar scrawl.
Sienna,
I was untouchable, and because you were mine, I thought that you were too. Both counts I was wrong. You paid the price for my arrogance, and I won’t make that mistake again. Please let Lacey watch over you. And if you still want to humble me, my knees are ready.
Forever you loving husband,
Fabien
His knees may be ready, but I feel like mine might give out at any moment, not to mention my poor neck; last night’s turn of events has given me whiplash.
“Lacey.” I nervously eye the huge black dog. “Are we sure she isn’t from the underworld?”
“Cerberus doesn’t have quite the same ring for a designer,” Saint points out.
“Lacey.” I hold out my free hand, and the dog sniffs it. “May I pet her? Is it a her?”
The handler nods. “She’s been trained with your scent. She knows you’re her person.”
I don’t bother asking how she was trained with my scent. “What kind of dog is she?”
“Cane Corso. After she does her rounds, if you have time, I’d like to work with you and her, teaching you the commands.”
“Sure.” I’ll be damned if I let any bitch intimidate me, and that includes a canine.
The handler takes the beast of a dog away, and that leaves me alone with Saint. “When do you report to your boss about my comings and goings?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m going to visit Mr. Calvani this afternoon at two o’clock. Sure you won’t change your mind and come with me?”
“I’m sure, but can you deliver Fabien a message?” I move to my desk, fishing through the drawers until I find stationery.
Current husband,
Once upon a time, you told me that you never paid for a girl, period. A lie. I know you lost your virginity to Chantelle, and yet you expect me to believe your latest yarn?
Oh, and thanks for the guard dog. I’ll be working with Lacey this afternoon to make sure she greets you properly upon your release.
Sienna
Folding the letter, I hand it to Saint. “Thank you,” I say in a sing-song voice.
He eyes the stationery like it’s a snake ready to strike. “Why do I have the feeling Mr. Calvani isn’t going to be happy?”
“Not my problem.” I pat his cheek, walking out.
After tucking the photo away in its hiding spot, I move to my workspace as I sip on a new cup of espresso. My dreams were derailed, but now I have something I didn’t have before.
A choice.
Do I continue to wallow in the wreckage, or start again?
My fingers trail the lace edges of the wedding veil, and that pesky little puckered spot.
Searching on my phone, I pull up the design school admissions number. “Hello, my name is Sienna Calvani, I mean, Sienna Jenkins,” I correct myself. “I was a student nearly ten years ago, but had to drop out for personal reasons. I’d like to audit your advanced bobbin lacemaking course.”