Page 5 of Bad Husband

She was still technically married. There was no way she was going to see anyone else. There was also a chance Marco could find her and finish what he started six months ago. She lived in fear of that. She didn’t want to die.

Chiara didn’t have a clue what she had done wrong. Yes, she had been going to get Marco a puppy, a labrador, which was what he always wanted. She’d gone to the animal shelter and rather than adopt a dog from a breeder, she gave the puppy a home. The original plan had been for him to fall in love with one dog, and then take the remaining four puppies, as well as the mother home. Only, she never got to share any of that with Marco. He’d ruined the surprise—or whomever was trying to frame her had ruined that surprise. She felt like sobbing again.

“No, no, thank you. I am sworn off men for life.”

“Shit, yeah, I forgot that your husband beat you. Do you want me to go and find him, fucking kill him for you?” Heather asked.

“No, no, no, that is quite all right.” She forced a laugh. “I am happy being alone.”

“Do you want me to set you up with a woman?” Heather asked. “I’ve got plenty of women friends. Actually, I don’t have a whole lot of female friends as I tend to fuck their husbands. It’s not like it’s on purpose, I just can’t seem to say no.”

Chiara had absolutely no way to respond to that, so she just laughed. That was all she could do. The heat was clearly getting to her.

The rest of her shift went by without a hitch. The heat started to die down a little, and she was able to think. Some of the customers came back inside and ate their dinner. She smiled and was polite.

It was still hot by the time the diner shut at exactly eight, and it was still light. They were at the height of the summer, and she knew it wouldn’t be long before the dark nights and the cold started to fight back, which she was looking forward to. She loved winter so much more than summer. The trailer was going to be boiling by the time she got there.

Several of the locals greeted her, and she held her hand up, giving them a wave, then continuing to her trailer park. More kids were outside, laughing, joking, waving their hands, and fighting with some water. Chiara smiled as she watched them in passing, but then stared straight ahead toward her trailer, only to stop as she noticed several windows were open. She never left her windows open. Even though she liked this trailer park, she was warned that open windows were a dangerous sign of a potential break-in.

She didn’t like this. She was not going to call Arnold. He would want more details from her, and so far, she’d been able to avoid him. She wanted to keep avoiding the truth of who she was, and her connections to the Bove Mafia.

Reaching into her bag, she grabbed her can of Mace, which she had never used. There was also a small pistol in her bag, which she kept because she was no fool. Marco might have banished her, but that didn’t stop her from being his wife, nor her father’s daughter. She was aware of the risks.

This was a slow kind of torture. An attempt to break her spirit.

Stepping into the trailer, she held onto the Mace, but that scent, slightly woodsy, masculine, assailed her senses. It was a smell she hadn’t encountered in several long months, and as she looked past her small kitchen to her tiny seating area, which also held a table, there was Marco Volpi, her husband. The man who had betrayed her.

There had been many moments when she wondered what she would do in this circumstance. Would she run and scream? Would she throw herself into his arms? She remembered the feel of his gun as it pressed against her forehead, and she did not look at him and feel happy. This was a man who turned his back on her. He judged before he knew all the facts.

She was close to the kitchen, so she picked up her clean saucepan as she made herself some oatmeal that morning, and she tossed it right at him. There were only a few pots and pans, and she refused to throw a plate.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, not in the least bit interested in why he was there. She wanted him gone. Out of her life.

“Stop,” Marco said.

He’d gotten up from his seat and moved closer to her, but she shoved him hard in the chest.

“I want you to get out. Get the hell out of my home right now.”

“Chiara, I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

He tried to reach out to her, to touch her, but she shoved him right back. “Don’t you dare. Do not even think about it!”

She was not going to cry, because she was angry. She felt herself positively fuming. Her whole body vibrated with how angry she was at him. It had been six months since she last saw him, and that last time he had looked at her as if she was nothing more than scum. She hated him and didn’t want to go near him.

She took a deep breath and moved to her door to get out. The trailer was way too hot.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I want a divorce. That is the only thing you and I have to discuss.”

Chapter Three

Marco’s first meeting with Chiara didn’t exactly go the way he wanted it to go. He figured he would arrive, and knowing her situation, she would be so happy to see him, and she’d throw herself into his arms.

That hadn’t happened. She kicked him out of her trailer, and seeing as he didn’t want to draw any attention to them, Marco left. But he didn’t go far. He stayed in his car, watching her trailer. Chiara didn’t come out.

The sounds of kids screaming, laughing, and playing in the distance filled the air, and Chiara moved around her trailer. All night, he stayed at the trailer park, and at one point, he fell asleep. He didn’t mean to, although he didn’t make any plans to sleep anywhere else. He anticipated Chiara falling into his arms, and him whisking her away back to their home.