"She told me to get out, Stel. She screamed it. Made Maeve cry." That memory alone makes me want to put my fist through something. "I'm not calling until I can actually fix this."
Stellan settles into the armchair, studying me with that calculating look that means he's already working through options. "Then we handle Bianca first. Get you free of her, then you deal with Zola."
"How long will that take?" I drain the rest of the whiskey, set the glass down harder than necessary. "An annulment, divorce proceedings?—"
"Or we speed things up." Stellan leans forward. "I found out who the father is."
Something in his tone makes me pause. "Who?"
"Dorian Vale."
The name takes a second to register. Dorian Vale—midlevel enforcer for the Morellis, Bianca's family. Works collections mostly, has a reputation for being charming and reckless in equal measure. And apparently stupid enough to knock up his boss's daughter while she's married to someone else.
"How long?" I ask.
"Since before your wedding, from what I can tell. Maybe longer." Stellan picks up his own glass, swirls the amber liquid. "She's been careful, but not careful enough. They meet at his apartment in Manayunk, always when you're working late. Which is every night, so."
"Her family forced the marriage." It's not a question. Bianca never wanted me—she wanted the status, the connection, the legitimacy. But her father saw an opportunity to strengthen ties with the Wolfes and took it, regardless of what his daughter actually wanted.
"Probably." Stellan shrugs. "Doesn't matter now. What matters is we use this."
"How?"
His smile is sharp and calculating. "Poker game."
The game is setfor tomorrow night.
Stellan makes the arrangements while I pace his living room, trying to figure out how to explain this to Zola once it's done. Trying to find words that will make her understand that Bianca was never real, that the only thing that's ever been real is what I feel for her.
"It's at The Brass Lion," Stellan says, hanging up his phone. "Back room. I've got Dorian confirmed, and I told Bianca's father we need to discuss some business. He'll come."
"And Bianca?"
"Bring her." Stellan meets my eyes. "Make it look normal. Like you're trying to include her in the family business, like everything's fine between you."
The thought of spending an entire evening pretending makes my skin crawl, but I nod. "When?"
"Eight tomorrow night. That gives us time to set everything up, make sure the right people are at the table." He pauses. "You sure about this? Once you do it publicly, there's no walking it back."
"I don't want to walk it back." I reach for my jacket. "I want to be free of her so I can fix things with Zola."
"If Zola lets you."
"She will." I have to believe that. Have to believe that once I can explain everything—once I can show her that Bianca means nothing and never did—she'll listen.
Stellan looks skeptical but doesn't argue. "Go home. Act normal. Don't give Bianca any reason to think something's coming."
The house is litup when I pull in, every window glowing. Bianca's car is in the driveway, which means she's home and probably waiting to ambush me with more manipulation.
I sit in the car for a long moment, forehead pressed against the steering wheel, trying to find the composure to walk inside and not immediately start shouting.
When I finally go in, she's in the living room with a glass of wine and her phone.
"There you are." She sets both down, stands with a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I was starting to worry."
"Don't." I keep my voice flat, emotionless. "We both know you don't actually care where I am."
"That's not fair." She moves closer, and I have to lock every muscle to keep from stepping back. "I know things have been difficult between us, but?—"
