AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nothing, I just need to speak with one more person. Can you entertain yourself for a few minutes?” he asks but is already walking away before I can answer.
Gripping my leather clutch tightly, I watch the partygoers laugh and drink while I stand to the side, softly humming a song. One that pokes at a memory as the words “It’s alright. It’s okay” and “you’re not a demon” pop into my head. The tune is familiar, yet I can’t remember where I’veheard it.
“Mio Dio! SignorinaGreta!” A cheerful voice rings out from my left. I turn to see a short round man approach. His smile is a mile wide, his eyes the color of dark cocoa, and salt and pepper hair with a bushy mustacheto match.
He envelops me in a warm hug, and the smell of herbs and spices has my mind grasping at an image just out of reach. I hug the man back and clench my eyes shut at the thumping in my temples while my chest warms with affection when he squeezes me tighter.
You know this person, Greta. Think, think.
He pulls away with wide eyes and a knowing smile. “Oh, what am I saying. It isSignoraCalvano now, yes?” My heart stops, and goosebumps race along my skin. “Is Emiliano here? I would like to speak with that scoundrel about not bringing you back to my restaurant more often.” He laughs, but his smile drops, and his laughter vanishes when I still haven’t spoken a word. “Are you alright,miabambina?”
I stare into the man’s eyes for what seems like an eternity when suddenly, it clicks. The restaurant, Emil and me on a date, the piano, the song I hummed earlier, and finally, the confirmation that everything I thought I knew is real.
My head pounds with the vivid recollection, but it doesn’t stop the smile and joyful tears that form. I hug the man again. “Alfonzo, the best chefin Italy!”
I’m not insane.
He pats my back and pulls away to look at me. “Corretto,mia bambina. That’s why I, Alfonzo Moretti, am requested by name to cater such,” he gestures around the room, “lavish affairs as this.” I smile at his bravado and nearly sob with relief as he speaks, but my joy is quickly dashed when his words remind me of where I am andwhoI’m with. My skin suddenly feels too tight, and my brow lines with perspiration as my panic rises. I can’t let Sebastian see Alfonzo. If he finds out that the kind older man let the cat out of the bag, he’ll hurt himor worse.
Alfonzo is still jabbering when I take his hand and drag him to the side to a dimly lit corner of the room. “Alfonzo, I know this will sound insane, but I need you to leave and not mention you ever saw me toanyone, okay?”
Concern clouds the dark chocolate of his eyes, and the lines around them deepen. “Signora,are you in trouble?” he whispers, and I don’t bother to lie.
“Yes, but I refuse to get you involved. If you want tohelp me––”
“Of course I do,” he states firmly as thoughinsulted.
I take a cursory look around. No one is paying us any attention, and Sebastian is nowhere in sight. I turn pleading eyes back to the stout man. “Then I need you to do as I say. Walk away and pretend we never spoke. Do you understand?” My heart gallops in a chaotic rhythm as the seconds tick away while Alfonzo studies me before finally nodding, turning, and walking away.
I nearly collapse in relief, then almost jump out of my skin when a strong arm wraps around my waist and lips ghost over the shell of my ear. “What are you doing all the way over here, my love?” Sebastian asks playfully but with a scent of accusation coatinghis tone.
Still playing my role, I face him and place a hand on his solid chest. “I couldn’t handle the crowd anymore. I needed to find a quiet spot to catch my breath. Are youfinished?”
His eyes narrow in suspicion, and for two heartbeats, I think I’m caught, but I relax when he places a kiss on my forehead. “I understand. You’ve done very well tonight, considering the circumstances,” he says the latter with a hint of disgust, as though my supposed mental disorder is something to be ashamed of. Refusing to cause a scene, I bottle up a snappy retort and smile as he guides me out of the mansion to his car.
The ride home is quiet except for the deep timbre of Carlo Magno playing quietly in the background. With each passing mile, my anger boils, and the urge to draw blood nearly consumes me. My knee bounces, my hands sweat as they squeeze the empty clutch in my hands, and a surge of adrenaline rushes to my muscles, ready for a fight.
“What’s wrong?” Sebastian sighs next to me as he takes the turns at breakneck speed.
“Nothing. Just watch the road.” My answer is clipped, but I don’t give a shit.
“Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say?” Sebastian’s hands white-knuckle the steering wheel, and a cloud of menace thickens the airaround us.
I never get to answer because the gates to his home open, and he barely misses clipping the side mirror as he races up the driveway. He slams on the brake, jerks the shifter into park, opens his door, and rounds the hood, all before I can unbuckle myseatbelt.
The next thing I know, my door swings open, and he reaches in, grasping my upper arm with bruising force, and drags me from the car. The entire time I keep my eyes forward and my chin high while the beast inside me roars to bleed this man dry. To tear his throat out with my bare teeth.
I stumble beside him in my heels as he marches us up to the door and into the house. The click of the lock is like the start bell to a boxer. I turn on him, but Sebastian’s hand goes around my neck, and my back hits the wall with a painful thud. I refuse to show an ounce of discomfort. Even when he brings his face centimeters from mine and speaks through gritted teeth. “How dare you speak to me in such a way? I am your husband, and you will respect my authority.”
I ignore his asinine comment. “You’re a fucking liar,” I grit back instead.
“What are you talking about?” His fingers flex around my throat, and my heels lift from the ground when he presses me higher onthe wall.
“I’m not your wife…” I say through gasps of breath. “I’m not insane. I know … everything that happened between Emiliano and me was real.”
He tips his head to the side like a curious child.A demented child. “Really? Did the voices in your head tell you that? Or are you back to believing those fucking stories in your head?” he taunts, but I only smirk.
“No. Though, I must admit you had me questioning my sanity there for a second.” His grip on my throat tightens in warning, but I refuse to back down. “But tonight,” I choke, “I got confirmation of your lies.”
