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My eyes widen. “I’m sorry, what?!”
“Mon dieu. Don’t try and guilt me. I’ve been at your father’s side for months.”
I’m sure the fact that my father, who’s thirty years older than Marie, by the way, is worth millions, has nothing to do with that.
“And I deserve a break.”
“Marie, you’re his medical?—”
“I’ve hired a nurse; Rosa. She’s very good. She’ll be staying here with your father full time.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “But Marie, you can’t just up and leave?—”
“Oui, I can, actually,” she says curtly. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to tell you. Hello to your husband.”
She hangs up abruptly.
Goddammit.
I debate calling her back, but I doubt she’d pick up. And also, shit, I have to get to work.
My room is on the first floor of the penthouse, unlike Massimo’s sprawling master suite, which sits on the second floor, and the hallway that leads from my room to the main living area takes me past his home office. I’m walking by it with every intention of grabbing my bag and leaving for the day without saying goodbye when I hear something that makes me freeze.
“No, no, listen. Eloise is already in place. Trust me, she’ll do what I tell her to.”
I stiffen, shrinking against the wall next to the slightly open office door.
He laughs coldly. “No, they don’t suspect a thing. Why the fuck would they? She’s a nobody lawyer that I shoehorned into an associate’s position. They’re humoring me by keeping her there.”
My teeth grit.
Asshole.
“But she’s in. When the time is right, she can nuke the whole Chinellato case from there. And when that little snitch gets sent upstate, your people on the inside will finish the job. Capice?”
I slam a hand over my mouth, my eyes going wide.
What. The. Fuck.
Stepping out of my heels and picking them up, I tiptoe silently past his office door and bolt into the kitchen. I grab a banana, fill a flask with vodka for later, and all but sprint for the front door. Slipping my shoes back on, I reach for the knob?—
The scream dies in my throat as a hand slams down on the door, keeping it firmly shut. Whirling, my eyes snap to Massimo’s dark, piercing, suspicious ones.
“I didn’t realize you were still home, wife,” he growls.
Massimo has always scared me. I’m not ashamed to admit it, because that’s just basic self-preservation. But it’s gotten so much worse since the other night, when I watched him kill that poor girl.
I’ve seen his violence before. I’ve seen his dark side.
Or at least, I thought I had. Because that was something else entirely, and I’ve hardly been able to sleep in this apartment ever since.
I smile weakly at him. “Yeah, running a little late. I should go?—”
“Freshly showered, I see.”
I don’t reply. Massimo leers and leans forward.
“And such a long shower, too. Making sure every part was nice and clean, were we? I swear, Eloise,” he murmurs, “sometimes I can smell it on you after you’ve touched yourself.”
