Page 91 of Unlock My Heart

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sienna

The present

My eyes snap open, disoriented. I’m alone in my new bedroom, the king-size bed swallowing me whole.

What kind of game is my current husband playing? Fabien didn’t try to join me in bed after that bombshell of an admission last night, one that I’m still reeling from.

Revisionist history.

My mind forbids my heart to consider anything else.

But what if he’s telling the truth? A little voice whispers.

I tell that little voice to shut up as I fumble for my phone. It’s after nine. What time was Fabien supposed to leave? In the back of my mind, I faintly recall Saint saying it was eight sharp.

Throwing back the covers, I jump out of bed. “Fabien,” I call, hurrying to the guest room.

Empty.

I hurry outside to the courtyard. Other than a busted bottle, there’s no sign of him.

Fabien left without telling me goodbye, and what’s left of my heart is being twisted like a piece of saltwater taffy.

He murdered the fed for me.

The little voice is getting louder, and isn’t that inconvenient? I thought I had the upper hand. I thought I had my feelings in check. I thought…the client left last night.

But when I flip on the light in the kitchen, here he is, slumped over the table.

That damn fox figurine, positioned front and center.

My body trembles as I approach the corpse, and that’s when I see the note next to my wedding ring set.

Sienna,

Sorry, baby, I tried, but I’m not cut out to be a cuckold. You’ll have to find another way to punish me. And you’re not the only one who died that night. I’ve been flatlining for nearly a decade without you.

Forever your loving husband,

Fabien

“No! No! No!” I stomp my foot like a petulant child.

The doorbell rings, and I sprint down the stairs, knowing damn well who’s here. Opening it, I usher Saint inside. “Your boss is a lunatic,” I hiss.

“You married the man,” he points out.

“Under duress!” I argue. “This way.” I lead Saint to the kitchen, where he doesn’t appear phased as he opens his bag and begins gloving up.

He releases a sardonic breath. “Glad to see the boss took my warning to heart and was on his best behavior.” He glances over to me. “Mrs. Calvani, it would be best if you leave the room while I…”

“Law school taught you how to dismember and dispose of a body?” I move behind the island and pour myself an espresso.

“Law school taught me what not to do when dismembering and disposing of a body,” Saint corrects me.

I bring the cup to my lips, taking a much-needed first sip. Eyeing the dead body turns the rich taste of Italian beans into acidic swill. With a groan, I dump out the coffee in the sink. “There’s blood on my hands.”