Armani narrows his eyes. “I could turn you in to Sergio Bruno this instant.”
“And risk your unborn child’s life? Really? How twisted are you?”
That gives him pause, and I stand there waiting for him to come at me with some other empty threat. But he doesn’t.
“I can’t believe I actually thought a cold-blooded killer like you could be capable of caring about anyone besides yourself,” I say harshly. “Shame on you. And shame on me for being fooled by a goddamn Bellanti.”
Trembling with rage and indignation, I leave the room, slamming the door behind me as hard as I can. Then I go downstairs and grab my keys. I’m going to Frankie’s. Her house will be safe. It’s just up the street, on the very next property adjacent to the Bellantis’, and I know she won’t turn me away. Armani’s precious security detail can follow me there and run their fucking surveillance on me all the livelong day for all I care.
As I pull my car onto the main road, I try to take deep, calming breaths. I know I can’t keep getting this worked up. It’s not good for the baby. But the more I think about separating from Armani and living somewhere far away from him, the better I start to feel.
Maybe I’m looking forward to this divorce after all.
19
CANDI
After gettingsome work done at Frankie’s on a borrowed laptop, I submit a handful of new purchase orders to the winery’s online system and then join Frankie for a little play time with Lili Grace before she conks out in her mama’s arms. We watch some home renovation show while Lili is napping, and then we have a lovely family dinner with Dante, who doesn’t make a peep about me helping his brother kidnap anybody.
It’s all so domestic and soothing. I’m envious. I can’t imagine having a life like this with Armani. Or actually, I guess I can. I’m just not sure it could ever be possible.
Or if it’s even something I still want.
“Heard anything from Armani yet?” Frankie asks me after dinner.
I’d given her the barest outline of what was going on between him and me, but I’d framed our argument in the context of the new baby. I hadn’t mentioned Armani’s vile kidnapping plot.
“No. Not even a text.”
“Jackass,” Frankie huffs.
“I agree.”
He hadn’t come looking for me either, not that I expected him to. I’m sure his security team has been reporting my location to him at regular intervals.
“Do you want to spend the night? My mom is out of town with Livvie, so you can take the guest room. Lili wakes up a lot at night, but you’d be at the other end of the house so you shouldn’t hear anything.”
“Thank you so much for the invite, but I think I should get home,” I say. “Who knows? Maybe Armani will finally be ready to talk to me like an adult.”
“Maybe.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “But if he’s not, just give him time. You know how pigheaded these boys can be. He’ll come around.”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
She gives me a hug and I drive down the road and back to the Bellanti estate. The house is dead quiet when I get there. I find Armani’s bedroom empty, so I grab my toiletries and some pajamas and spend the night in one of the guest rooms down the hall, curled up with my e-reader.
When I wake up in the morning, I go back into our bedroom to get fresh clothes. It’s hard to tell if the bed has been slept in. Knowing my husband, he probably slept on the couch in his office or downstairs in the first-floor library.
After a shower and breakfast, I debate going to my office over at the winery to do more work. Instead, I end up in the baby’s room. There’s still a mess from the bag I upended over Armani’s head yesterday, but otherwise it’s just as I left it. For some reason, it makes my chest hurt knowing that he didn’t come back in here to clean up the mess. That he didn’t wake up this morning with the urge to select a paint color from one of the swatches and paint the whole nursery, just to surprise me. Or put together the crib that’s in its box in the corner.
Why do I keep letting him disappoint me? Why does my heart keep hoping? I need to just expect nothing from him going forward, that way I can stop getting my soul crushed. Easier said than done, though. Mostly because I’ve seen how wonderful Armani can be. I’ve experienced it firsthand. I’ve witnessed his vulnerable moments, his worry and his care. I know he’s better than he acts like he is. He just doesn’t know it yet.
Still, it’s not my job to try to change him. He needs to find the way himself. But—
“Enough of this,” I chastise myself quietly. I can’t keep letting my thoughts spin in circles all day.
Besides, I don’t need Armani to set up the whole nursery. There’s plenty I can do myself.
First things first, I call Donovan to ask where I might find a few basic tools. He ends up bringing me a toolbox with more than enough stuff inside: a hammer, a screw gun, a picture hanging kit, a level, measuring tapes, pencils, and hardware in all different sizes. He also offers to help me with my project, but I insist that I want to do it myself since it’s for the baby.
