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SASHA
I’m a jealous bitch—an extremely jealous bitch.
I’ll never admit that tidbit out loud, especially not to Lorenzo, but I’m fully aware of all my faults. The bad ones and the ridiculous ones, the green-eyed monster being the biggest one of all.
Seeing Ren’s cell phone lying on the floor where it fell from the bed during our frenzied need for one another, I lean over and swipe it off the carpet. I know his passcode, and knowing my husband, he likely knows mine too. Not that it matters, because everything that is of importance, like my secrets, my wants and desires, my needs, my fear, I keep locked up tight behind my tongue and inside my head.
No one can find out the one and only thing I’m afraid of—especially not Ren.
After inputting the four-digit code, I tap on his text message app. I don’t open any of the conversations between him and his dad or even his texts with Domenico, knowing those messages are none of my business. It’s not like any of them would blatantly discuss family business, but I know they have codes like every family in our lifestyle does. Still, none of it, not even the cryptic talks between the Caputos, is for my eyes or ears.
After looking at the messages without assigned contact names and not finding any booty call texts from other women, I close out of his messages. I’m relieved there aren’t any other women, but then again, he could have just deleted them if there were. He knows I’m a snoop when it comes to him. I always have been. It started when we were in grade school and stupid girls would pass him notes in class.
Yeah, that didn’t last long. When the consequences of doing so always ended up with the girl going home with a bloody nose, bitches got scared real fast. The only cunt it never worked on was his twin—the one person I’ve been jealous of since the day I saw the two of them together. They have a bond, a friendship like nothing I’ve ever seen. Krishna and I are close, but we were never inseparable. Ren and Sienna are basically attached at the hip like Siamese twins; at least they were.
I may stay out of messages among Ren and Tony and even my husband and his brother, but that respect doesn’t roll over to his sister. The thing is, Ren and Sienna haven’t texted more than three words to each other in the last couple of months. I noticed it weeks ago, but I brushed it off. Something is off with those two and it has me wondering if all of Ren’s years of secrecy are finally catching up to him.
I know about the attack a while back. I know Ren feels responsible for what could have happened to Sienna. Even though I don’t like his sister, even I can admit he is partially responsible. Sienna was expecting him to be at the gym that morning. They would have walked in together, and had they, it’s likely no one would have tried to grab her; at least not that morning.
Krishna didn’t go into details, but he and our father talked in hushed tones about some guy using Matteo’s daughter to get to Sienna. The kid was asleep during all the chaos that went down a few hours ago, and Sienna’s bitch ass looked just fine, so whatever did happen couldn’t have been too bad. It’s not like the bitch doesn’t know how to fight. I should know. My fucking ribs still hurt from where she landed a kick to them. It’s a wonder they aren’t broken, but that thought will go to my grave before I show any pain in front of her.
I place the phone on the nightstand and then turn back to my husband’s sleeping form. He looks peaceful in his sleep, which is rare for Ren. He never exudes peace. Restlessness, apprehension, or unease are words that I’d use to describe Lorenzo on most days.
If I’m honest, they’re the same anxieties that plague me too on a constant basis. After tonight, they are tenfold. Now that the cat is out of the bag, there is only one thing I know to do—file for divorce and pray like hell it works. Based on my track record with God, my words are liable to fall on deaf ears, but it’s all I have, so shattering the remains of Ren’s heart is what I will do.
It’s the only thing I can do, even if it breaks my own heart in the process.
Curling up next to him, I scoot my body as close as I can get, pressing my naked flesh against his, loving the feel of his warmth and the way his body heat always seems to coat my skin. I close my eyes and allow my thoughts to cease while I steal comfort in his presence, because it very well could be the last. You don’t break a heart like Ren’s and come back from it.
