No. I didn’t love her. And she’d made damned sure I never would.
Smoothing the sleeves of my suit, I turn to Francesca’s husband and make slow work of pulling at my cuffs to keep myself from bashing his face in. He’s not the only one who can play it cool. It would be unsavory to say the least for me to off him at my own party.
“Marco, please remove our…uninvited guest from the property,” I say.
My brother flashes a gleeful smile. “No prob.”
Marco didn’t witness the entire exchange, but he seems to have caught on well enough. He steps forward and grabs the man by the upper arm, nudges him, and leads him away. Frankie doesn’t bat an eye as her husbandis carted off. Nor does she display any flicker of emotion at him being manhandled and forced out of here. I want to feel satisfaction at that, but I can’t. I’m about to combust and I need this night to be over before I lose control of myself.
“And Charlie,” I say, “why don’t you head out and prep the press for the speech. We’ll be there in a moment.”
“Sure.” Charlie gives her sister a long look before shuffling away to do as I ask.
Grabbing Frankie’s arm tightly again, I turn to Armani. “That man claims to be Fran…this woman’s husband. After the speech, I want you to find out who’s lying here, and deal with it. However you need to.”
He nods. His expression gives away nothing. “I’m on it.”
If this story has roots, Armani will find them, follow them, and shred them into sawdust. It’s what he does, and he’s damn good at it.
“Let’s go,” I tell Frankie, pulling her along with me as I stride out of the tent.
“Dante, please—”
“Not another word,” I say, cutting her off harshly. I can feel her start to tremble, but I really can’t find it in my heart to care.
She’s made a mockery of the Bellanti name. A headline like this won’t go away—ever. It’s going to overshadow everything we do at the winery going forward. Whenever someone mentions Bellanti wine, it will instantly bring up the scandal this woman brought upon us.
So for now? We’re going to keep this façade going for as long as we can.
As we approach the stage, I paste a smile on my face and speak to Frankie without looking at her. “Keep your dirty, lying mouth shut while I give this speech. You’re going to stand by my side like the good little imposter wife you are.”
She’s tried to take charge of our marriage the entire time, making demands, pushing her way into the family business. And I let her. In a way, this is my fault too.
I never should have trusted her.
2
Dante
The party isn’t quite over,but I’ve just about reached my limit when it comes to my temper. If I don’t get out of here soon, I can’t say what I might do. And in public, no less.
I keep Frankie close to my side while I deliver my closing speech. Despite the fact that my world is imploding, I don’t allow a single whiff of drama to muddy the presentation. Because the second someone catches even a hint of trouble, all hell will break loose. Luckily, I’m used to hiding my feelings. Only fools let everyone know what they’re thinking all the time.
Putting on a show for the investors and guests, I almost start to believe myself—that everything is actually fine. The words I say about the winery and our big plans for the future are true, and I feel them deeply. Why shouldn’t I? My work is the only thing that I’ve ever truly dedicated myself to. And it’s the one thing that hasn’t let me down.
“And so, on behalf of the entire Bellanti family, I want to thank each and every one of you for coming tonight to celebrate with us,” I say, starting to wrap things up.
There’s a genuine round of applause, and it eases my mind slightly. People have enjoyed the evening immensely and seem to have faith in the forward momentum of Bellanti Vineyards. We’ve accomplished exactly what we set out to with this event. It was great for business, and I won’t let my fake wife’s deceit be the stain that shadows all our good PR.
“But as much as I’ve loved chatting with you all,” I finish, “it’s time for me to excuse myself and my wife now. We do have to be up early tomorrow for the pressing! Good night.”
Stepping back from the mic, I smile and wave graciously, keeping a hand around Frankie’s waist. It’s all for show, of course.
We make our way down from the stage and through the crowd, the warmth of her body burning like a hot iron beneath my palm. But I don’t let her go. I can’t have anyone who looks at us tonight seeing anything other than the perfect couple. And my possessive streak has me realizing this might be the last time I’ll ever touch her.
She played me so well. Played all of us so well. I’m still reeling at being so completely blindsided. Even now, she’s lying with her face, her body, the perfect smile she wears for the crowd. All of it is a lie. Knowing it does nothing to diminish the ache in my chest, though.
Unbidden images from earlier this morning flash in my mind, and I can’t help remembering every last detail. I’d gone to her room at dawn, lifted her in my arms, and carried her back to my bed. Laying her out on the sheets, I’d stripped her naked and then took her more slowly than I ever had before. Explored every inch of her body. Touched her, tasted her. Kissed her from head to toe while her arms held me tight.
