“Luca wants you at the breakfast table.”
I was horrified to see Tony this morning. His face was black and blue and he had a split lip. No wonder Nessa hated me. I was surprised and relieved Luca didn’t storm up into the attic and demand I sleep beside him. I was outraged with what he had done to Tony, and I doubted I would have stomached sleeping beside him.
“I’m so sorry.” My apology came off lame because in my soul, I knew I saved seven minors from being auctioned off.
My bodyguard shrugged. “It is what it is. The boss couldn’t fire me because I’m part of the family. I slacked on my job.”
He gestured for me to walk ahead of him.
“You must hate having to babysit me while there is much more interesting stuff to do in Chicago.”
“I consider this secret service stuff,” he chuckled. “Guarding the wife of the boss is a privilege.”
At the bottom of the steps, he tipped his chin at the man standing by the wall. “You know Rocco—he’s going to help keep an eye on you. I’m sorry, Natalya, but from now on you’ll have a guard wherever you go in the mansion.”
Tony turned away and went outside the back door. I was tempted to follow him, but I knew better.
Rocco’s face was inscrutable, but I could feel the disapproval emanating from him. And as we headed to the dining room, we passed the other staff, including Nessa, who didn’t even bother to look at me.
I’d gone from mistress of Tralestelle to its prisoner, where everyone hated me. They saw me as a spoiled brat.
When I entered the dining room, I saw Yvonne hovering over Luca and exchanging flirtatious words with him.
“That’s prime Italian breakfast sausage. Never frozen, according to the delivery man yesterday.” Yvonne giggled like a schoolgirl. Was it my imagination that her uniform was unbuttoned to her cleavage, and she was wearing a short skirt? With full makeup and red lipstick, she looked like the star for a chambermaid porn movie.
My husband, for his part, only smiled, but when he saw me, he held my gaze while saying, “Thank you, Yvonne. You could add that to your duties.”
What?
“Mr. Moretti?”
He grinned at her. “Being in charge of the deliveries.”
“Oh.” She laughed and had the gall to touch his shoulder. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Yvonne,” I said. “If you will excuse us, I want to have breakfast with my husband.”
The other woman glared at me, but she knew better than to defy me in front of Luca.
I took my seat next to my husband. Surely, he didn’t expect me to ask permission before sitting down, even when he exuded the chill of an iceberg that would give me frostbite.
“I see you’re handling Yvonne better.” He wasn’t looking at me, but taking a bite of said sausage.
“We’ve been fine. She’s never crossed the line with me.” I poured orange juice into a glass.
“Good. You’re learning.”
While I filled my plate with frittata, my peripheral vision caught Luca putting down his knife and fork. He was staring at me.
I reluctantly met his gaze.
“I’m waiting,” he said.
“I’m sorry for last night.”
His eyes searched mine, and I forced myself to keep from flinching. “And I do not forgive you.”
“Then why are you waiting for me to apologize?” I asked.
“I don’t see remorse in your eyes and only more defiance.”
My eyes lowered and stared at the knot on his tie. “I will not do it again.” Then I lifted my chin. “You assigned me another guard. Is that necessary?”
“I need one who you won’t wrap around your finger with your guile and manipulation.”
I laughed derisively. “I’m the manipulative one?”
“I don’t hide mine behind big brown eyes and fake innocence.”
I couldn’t say anything to that because I was far from innocent. “I can’t help my age and how I look. It’s people’s fault they underestimate me.”
“So I’m learning.” His gaze pierced into me. “I won’t have a repeat of last night. Understand?”
The saliva dried up in my mouth, and I had trouble swallowing or saying the words. So I gave a brief nod.
Martha came in and set a bowl of granola and yogurt in front of me.
“This is a lot of food.”
“You need to eat more,” the older woman said gently. I was alarmed when the back of my eyes stung, realizing that I was on the precipice of falling apart. She was the only one who had shown me sympathy this morning.
I croaked, “I’ll try.”
Martha squeezed my shoulder, then shot a disapproving glance at Luca, before leaving the room.
We resumed eating in silence. The clink of the silverware was an awkward sound in the room. I didn’t mind trying to eat what was in front of me, because Dr. Kingsley wanted me to put on more weight. But if all Luca wanted from me was an apology, then silence was better. I was afraid he was going to probe me about where I went.
Luca finished eating and picked up the napkin to wipe his mouth. I kept my eyes on my plate, but I was very aware of the man beside me. He leaned back, regarding me, and began tapping his fingers of one hand on the table.
I glanced briefly at him. “If you need to be somewhere, you don’t have to wait for me to finish eating.”
“No, I prefer to get this out now,” he said with determination.
My spine stiffened for an imminent attack, and the orange juice sloshed in my stomach.
“Are you sleeping okay?”
I reared back at the unexpected question. “Yes.”
“With your pregnancy, I don’t want you stressed. Setting expectations of each other will be better for us going forward.”
“You expect me to stay at Tralestelle and play housewife. I get that.”
“As your husband, I’ll provide for your needs.” His tone was matter-of-fact, like he was reading aloud a boring editorial in a newspaper. “I care for you, Natalya, but I think you’re clinging to a notion that one day I’ll turn into one of your romance heroes.”
“I think you admitted you’re more a villain than a hero.” And I wished I believed him when he declared it so. Instead, I painted him as the misunderstood antihero.
His face remained stoic, save for the tic under his eye. “Good. Then my next words won’t be a problem. Listen up because they’re important, and I don’t want to repeat myself because the truth might hurt.”
Why did I feel like my heart was already breaking before he even uttered his words?
“Just get it over with,” I rasped like it was my dying breath.
“I care for you, but I will never love you.” Even in his same lame monotone, the words shattered my heart. A carnage so huge the fragmented pieces trapped the anguished sob in my throat.
And he went on in his bland tone. “I will never love you in the way you imagine in your romance novels.” He was so oblivious to the fact that he’d just obliterated every romantic notion I held dear.
Big tears formed and spilled down my cheeks.
I exhaled in a fractured breath. “I’m getting that.”
His hand reached out to touch my cheek. I flinched from his touch.
His jaw clenched in determination. “I’m sorry if I hurt you, but I think these expectations need to be set now before the child comes.”
“Are you going to love our son?”
“Of course. But I should think of him with the future of our families in mind.”
“What if I don’t want that life for him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You agreed and have full knowledge of why we entered this arranged marriage.”
“Yes! Because you could help my father. It had nothing to do with our child.” I brushed the tears from my cheeks, anger drying them up.
Something flickered in his eyes, and then his expression warmed. I did not trust that warmth anymore. I was tired of his mercurial expressions. I married a manipulative bastard.
“At least we have chemistry, no?” He smirked.
“Chemistry? You haven’t fucked me in two months.”
“You didn’t seem receptive, and I didn’t want to force you.”
“Oh, please, Luca, that’s a lame excuse. You don’t want to fuck me because each time you do, you feel closer to me and that scares you.”
“What did I say about expectations?”
“This is why you stay away from me.”
“I’m a very busy man, Natalya. Be glad you’re safe here.”
My stupid heart wanted to press him, but he was still fighting it, and frankly, I wasn’t sure my trampled feelings could handle his rejection and ridicule.
So I asked the question expected from a concerned wife. “What’s going on?”
“I really don’t want to involve you in the mess that Santino left behind, but the Russians are blaming Chicago for one of their failed business deals that had cost them an obscene amount of money and shut down one of their lucrative sources of income. Aside from Rocco, I have five men assigned to protect the estate.”
“How about my checkups?”
“As much as possible, Rachel will visit you here. I have a portable ultrasound on the way.”
“That’s overkill.”
“I protect what’s mine, tesoro.” He put his hand on mine and squeezed. “I do care about you. Please believe that.”
My insides were still in tatters to believe anything out of his mouth. “Whatever you say.”
“Now,” he said, ignoring my caustic reply. “I don’t want you to get bored.”
“There’s not much else to do on the estate. You’ve got a full staff.”
“There is,” he said. “You know we’re having a boy. Why don’t you get started on the nursery?”
My mouth fell open, and for the first time this morning, a burst of joy exploded from my heart. “I can do that.”
“The one beside our room, maybe?” he suggested. “That way, it will be close by when the baby cries.”
“Okay.”
“And I’ve said before, you have my black card. Use it.”
As was routine before Luca left, I walked him to the SUV. There were more mafia soldiers than usual, and I had no doubt that the auction I broke up yesterday was the same one giving my husband a headache now.
He seemed to be in a better mood because he thought I accepted his expectations. He was right though. I had to think of the baby.
“Take care.” He gave me a chaste kiss on the lips and got behind the second row of an Escalade in between another two.
I watched his convoy leave before I turned around and walked back into the house. He was an expert at evasion and distracted me with the nursery talk. To my credit, I recognized this after the initial thrill, no longer blinded by the fact that he was simply giving me a bone.
Things would change once the baby arrived because I would not accept anything less than unconditional love. I only had to look at Luca’s niece to see it. Sera and Matteo had a love meant for the history books. Sera told me how Matteo wrecked his beloved Jaguar to save her from my deranged cousin in what could only be described as a movie-worthy moment. Then she told me all the things Matteo did for her to earn her love. That sunset proposal was everything. I wanted a passionate love like that.
My laptop was still with Nessa. I went looking for her in the kitchen, where she was busy putting away the staff meal. There were still a few men in the kitchen eating, so I checked out the room that would become the nursery.
Rocco didn’t follow me once I turned in the direction of our rooms on the second floor. There was no exit there unless I climbed down the trellis beside the balcony. Our bedroom door was open. Yvonne was probably cleaning it. I was about to walk past it when she came out.
My hackles rose at the obvious mockery on her face.
“Are you done with the room?” I asked.
“I’m taking my time,” she said. “It appears you won’t be using it anytime soon anyway.”
I stepped toward her. “No, Yvonne. You can’t take your time. Nessa is swamped in the kitchen. Go help her.”
“The kitchen is not my assignment.”
“Your assignment is what I or Martha tells you. Don’t make me repeat myself.” I walked away from her before I ended up scratching her eyes out. I remembered the way she flirted with my husband.
“Have you checked the latest Chicago gossip?”
Sighing, I turned around. “I’m not concerned—”
“Maybe you should,” she said coyly as she closed our bedroom door and started walking the opposite way. “Then you will know why your husband doesn’t share your bed.”
Pissed at myself that Yvonne’s malice hit the mark, I hurried to the bedroom I would be converting into a nursery and whipped out my regular phone, bringing up the Chicago news site. I didn’t see anything at first until I scrolled all the way to the bottom and saw a picture of Luca. I clicked on it.
It was an opening of a new club.
He was there with socialites and politicians. I recognized an alderman that was at our wedding and the city mayor. So, Luca was busy with new club openings? There was nothing strange about it. Clubs were common for cleaning money.
But the photo at the very bottom caught my eye.
Jessica, Luca’s last girlfriend, was in a picture with him.
The caption read: Former girlfriend cozying up to the Moretti Shipping Line CEO. Where is Natalya Moretti? Has the shine worn off for the bride and groom?
Though a lump formed in my throat, I clung on to the logic that they moved in the same social circles.
I closed the page, but of course I had to check something else. I entered both their names in a Google search.
I wished I hadn’t. I wished I hadn’t let Yvonne goad me into internet stalking. I wished I had maintained my ignorance because there was nothing I could do from here.
“Moretti with former girlfriend in Vegas hotel opening.”
The timestamp of the news article was around the time he went away and I didn’t know. I was suddenly light-headed, and I ran to the bathroom and emptied the contents of my stomach. Since breakfast was a few hours ago, it was mostly bile and the dry heaving hurt. My world caved in.
I wished there was technology or a magic pill to make me forget all the heartache. Forget this life and its bullshit expectations. Forget my love for Luca.
Instead, I read four other articles where they’d been seen together. The tabloids speculated they arrived separately to be discreet because although mafia men could keep mistresses, they shouldn’t blatantly disrespect their wives.
I sank to my knees, unable to support myself. The phone clattered on the tiles. Was it possible for something to hurt so much that I couldn’t cry? It was as though I had detached from my emotions.
An insistent flutter low in my pregnant belly pulled me from the prison of my thoughts. It brought a smile to my face. It might just be my stomach’s upheaval from the dry heaving, but I’d like to think it was my baby letting me know everything was going to be all right.
