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“No, I guess I don’t because, as far as I’m concerned, it’s just a building that you want for your portfolio.”
“It’s not just a building. The only reason we’re married is because I want it!”
Silence filled the room after his outburst—the awkward moment that always followed when someone says the wrong thing in the heat of the moment.
Dante was immediately contrite. “Anna?—”
“No, don’t apologize. We both know it’s true.” She began putting away the food.
“Owning that building is very important to me.”
Annabelle put away the last of the dishes and slammed the refrigerator door. “I know. It’s more important than anything else. Than me, than us. You haven’t changed a bit, have you? The real Dante was lying low, pretending to change so you could get what you wanted.”
“You’re wrong.”
“I’m not wrong. I was wrong before, but what I’m saying now is not wrong.”
“You’re overreacting.” His voice sounded harder and less patient.
Annabelle walked out of the kitchen before she picked up a utensil and hit him with it.
“Would you listen to me?”
She swung to face him in the middle of the hall. “What is there to listen to?”
“Me. I want you to listen tome.” He hit his chest with a large fist.
Annabelle shook her head, heartbroken. Her love would never be enough for him. In his relentless pursuit of wealth, he had carved his path through the world with ambition as sharp as the edge of a sword. That was the most important thing to Dante Escarra, and he’d married her to acquire the ultimate symbol of success—in his eyes. Now it was all being snatched away, and she saw the misery in his face.
“I heard all the explanations before, remember? The truth is, you’re an insensitive brute who only cares about one thing. Money. And you haven’t changed. You’re worse now. But kudos to you, Dante. All your hard work paid off over the years. You’re richer now than my father and I are. The boy from Venezuela did good. You should be happy, but you’re not.” She spoke in a stiff, unnatural voice.
She continued walking away from him and went up the stairs to the master bedroom. At first, she didn’t know what she was going to do, but then she realized she needed to get out of there. She changed into jeans and a blouse and Dante still hadn’t come in. She grabbed her purse and headed out. Dante sat on the left staircase, and when he heard her, he looked over his shoulder.
His eyes zeroed in on her purse, and he came to his feet immediately. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
She ignored him and descended the right staircase, heading toward the kitchen. But he caught her elbow and forced her to face him.
“Where?”
“To my father’s!” she snapped, yanking away her arm.
“Por supuesto. The minute there is the slightest problem, you run to Daddy.”
“This time you can’t blame my leaving on your lack of money. The problem isyou.” Annabelle strode away.
“When are you coming back?” Dante called after her.
“When I’m good and damn ready.”
She marched angrily through the kitchen to the garage and started her Mercedes coupe. As she was pulling out the driveway, Dante opened the front door. She couldn’t see his face because he was backlit by the interior lights, but something about his body language caused a prickle of emotion to settle in the stomach. Guilt, perhaps for leaving? But she needed a break.
She hadn’t expected to fall in love with him again and had been on the verge of exploding for a while now. Yes, she and Dante lived together in peace, but in the back of her mind, she could never forget this was all temporary. The knowledge that eventually they’d divorce and go their separate ways again hovered like a black cloud over her head and weighed on her more than she realized. She was a fool for trying to create a normal life for them. Date nights, regular sex, and now home-cooked meals.
She shook her head. His antics tonight reminded her that she wasn’t very important to him, and this wasn’t a normal marriage. They had agreed to a marriage of convenience, and she was a means to an end.
