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I realize she is nervous about facing her parents and I don’t blame her. They have been hiding secrets that concern her and as the jet begins its descent, she grips my hand tightly and whispers, “What if this doesn’t work?”
“It will.”
I sound so confident I even fool myself. There are so many unidentified factors that could come into play, and I know Cesare is also concerned.
As the jet touches down in Washington, I am nervous, which surprises me. I don’t do nerves. I never have and yet something is scaring the shit out of me and I’m guessing it’s because I’m taking Abi back to a life that may reach out and tear her from mine.
My cars are waiting and as we spill from the plane and take our usual seats, I prepare myself for a confrontation that could end badly for all of us.
Once again, I check my phone for any texts from Jefferson, but nothing comes through and the ball of anger inside me is growing by the second because what is taking him so long to deliver the information that will save his life?
It doesn’t take long before we reach the palatial home of the woman who is nervously wrapped in her own thoughts as we turn into the driveway.
The security gates open and we sweep through them as if we are welcome and I’m guessing our stay here won’t be the usual one when a bride brings her husband home for the very first time.
Abi’s hand finds mine and squeezes it reassuringly before she whispers, “I will stand by you, whatever happens. I just want you to know that.”
Her words light a fire inside my soul because she is relying on me, and I won’t let her down.
Raising her hand to my lips, I deliver my response with actions, not words, and as the car rolls to a stop, she says with a sigh. “Showtime.”
The door opens, and I reach for her hand and help her from the car, loving how beautiful she is as she steps into the sunshine. Her sandy hair has been pulled back into a sophisticated ponytail and the sun reflects off the highlights in her hair. Her simple cream dress dusts her knees and the diamond on her finger sparkles as it catches the light. She stands high on designer heels and smiles bravely as she catches my eye and I watch the confidence grow even greater as she fixes her eyes on her childhood home. and appears a little confused.
“It feels different coming back.’
“In what way?” I answer as we head up the stone steps leading to the huge wooden door.
“It doesn’t feel like home anymore.” She appears puzzled by that and yet I love hearing it. Her home is with me now and I suppose that’s the first hurdle jumped because I was worried she would look at me differently when she returned to her palace.
The door swings open and a uniformed maid almost bows as we enter a billionaire’s paradise and I stare around at luxury on a very grand scale. A large hallway stretches endlessly into the distance with a sweeping staircase the main focus of the room, branching off either side as it leads to the other floors.
“Welcome home, Miss. Abigail.”
The maid says respectfully and Abigail smiles sweetly but says with determination, “Actually, it’s Mrs. Ortega now. Meet my husband, Matteo.”
She pulls me by her side, and I’m surprised at the pleasant smile on the maid’s face as she grins and says, “Congratulations. I am so happy for you.”
It confuses me a little because she appears delighted, and a look passes between them that tells me there is one person in this house who is on Abi’s side, at least.
As we follow her through the immense luxurious space, I’m struck by how different this life is to mine. I enjoy luxury, but it’s at the cost of battered souls. This is purer somehow, more impressive and way out of my league.
“Don’t be impressed by this, Matteo.” Abi shocks me by whispering. “Obviously, this has all come at a bloody price and may appear respectable but cost more than money.”
I nod because she has reminded me exactly what’s at stake and if anything, at least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not.
As we enter a huge light-filled reception room, it’s as if the atmosphere changes and I’m hit with hostility the minute I walk in beside my wife.
“Abigail.” Jared’s deep tone greets us, but there is no warmth attached and I stare with interest at a man who is hiding many secrets of his own.
Abi grips my hand a little tighter and stares at her disapproving parents and says defiantly, “Daddy, mommy um, you remember my husband, Matteo, don’t you?”
The fact she’s just dropped a bomb into their perfect world makes me wonder why it doesn’t explode in their faces because, if anything, they already know.
Jared sighs and points to the couch and says with a firm voice, “Take a seat. This won’t take long.”
We sit side by side, our hands entwined, and I observe the scene with interest because there is nothing he could say that will change what’s happening.
“I heard you were married.”
