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The angry tears from earlier bust free, sliding down my cheeks. I break down into a sob. I’m an emotional mess these days. A big part of it is the hormone treatments I’ve been taking; it’s like they’ve amplified my feelings. Goodandbad.

But mostly bad. Giovanni doesn’t understand the toll it’s taking on me. How worn down I am. The extreme lows that hit me, particularly when I’m alone.

I down more wine and wipe my face. “I kicked the ladies out of my house.”

Tasha makes a humming noise in her throat. “Let me guess, it was that ostrich-looking bitch?”

“Her name’s Rochelle.”

“I prefer ostrich-looking bitch. What’d she do now?”

For the next five minutes, I fill Tasha in on everything. She hums some more, shaking her head as she digs around in her makeup bag and applies her eyeliner and mascara. Eventually, I trail off and return to my wine. Tasha lets a couple seconds pass before she gives her input.

“Fuck ‘em,” she says. “Those bitches are jealous and you know it. You’reQueen, Fal. Their husbands are toy soldiers at Gio’s disposal. Ostrich-looking bitch can’t stand that she’s been married to her guy for twenty years and he’s still some captain, while you and Gio can practically be her kids and you’re ruling.”

I nod along, the wine already hitting me, making me tipsy. I haven’t drank in years, which means I’m even more of a lightweight than in the past. Still I sip some more, vaguely aware how livid Giovanni will be when he finds out what I’ve done.

“Don’t let them see you sweat again,” Tasha says smartly. “You think Ostrich brought that up by accident? She’s trying to get under your skin. You’re a certified baddie. Anyone with eyes can see it. There’s nothing else for her to pick at. The infertility thing is all she has.”

Everything she says is probably true, but it doesn’t do me any good. My foul mood remains, maybe even stronger thanks to the wine. I cover my face with both my hands and sit crumpled on the floor like the room isn’t furnished with some of the most expensive hand-crafted Italian furniture in the world.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Tash,” I confess. “I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

Tasha frowns. “Tell Gio. Sit him down and tell him.”

“I’ve tried…when he’s around. Which isn’t often these days.”

The first year of our marriage, things were so hopeful. Even in the tragic aftermath of losing our baby, we grieved together and then decided to take things easy.

But Giovanni’s empire expanded faster than we ever imagined. The Sorrentino family became the most powerful organized crime family in the country. More expansion meant more time taken away from our marriage. More wealth and power. Less love and intimacy. Less bright spots that once existed in our dark world. Eventually, there were none left, and only the darkness remained.

The next pregnancy loss hit us even harder. That’s when we started seeking treatment. Slowly, Giovanni changed—a coldness developed in our relationship. He’d always been a ruthless, cutthroat businessman, but with me, in our solitude, there’d always been warmth.

Gradually, that warmth faded. He no longer turned off the man he was in the world outside when alone with me. My existence has become nothing more than getting pregnant. The more disappointing the lack of results, the longer we fuck for fertility, the less it’s intimate. Instead of feeling closer afterward, I feel empty. Almost…used.

All the while, lingering in the back of my mind is how I’m failing. How the clock keeps ticking.

“You know what you guys need?” Tasha asks. “A vacation. A break from everything.”

I snort, my lashes stuck together. “Giovanni hasn’t taken a vacation in years. He’s obsessed with work. He barely even comes home. Some nights he doesn’t even bother.”

“Consequences of being king. You don’t earn billions in the bank doing nothing.”

“Tell me about what’s up with you. Anything to distract me.”

Tasha listens, launching into talk about the Dollhouse and her latest sugar daddy boyfriend, Kilroy. He’s a high-roller who impressed Tasha when he paid for her services for a week straight, and then took her on multiple shopping sprees. She says things are strictly transactional between them, but by the tone she uses, she might actually really like a guy for once.

Try as I might to pay attention, my thoughts are still on what happened with the wives. I’m thinking about Giovanni and if he’ll actually come home tonight.

Tasha cuts herself off midsentence. “Oh,shit.”

“What is it? Tash, what are you looking at?”

“Nothing,” Tasha says quickly. The waver in her voice betrays her. So does the fake smile she plasters onto her face. “Did you ever decide to redecorate your guy’s bedroom? I remember you were saying you didn’t like how it came out the last time you and Carlotta—”

“Cut the crap, Tash. You don’t give a damn about the decor in our bedroom. What did you just look at on your phone?”

Tasha cringes, her expression one I know well: it’s the same face she used to wear at the Dollhouse, whenever one of the new dancers fell flat on their ass on stage. It’s pure secondhand embarrassment.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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