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She waves off my explanation. “Look, I don’t want you going away to America with us on bad terms. Please believe me. I’ve grown from all that stuff which sometimes feels like a lifetime ago,” she pleads.
“It was just yesterday in my head. I relive it every single fucking day of my life; my life that’s built on a lie,” I growl.
“Please. You have to forgive me, Marco, for our unborn child's sake. It’s time we put the past to rest. Please let me tell our families that we’re expecting a child.”
“No!” I shout before heading for the door.
“You’re being unreasonable!” she shouts. “Don’t fucking turn your back on me!” she seethes, grabbing me by my arm as I reach the doorway.
“What do you want from me, Graziella?”
“I want my husband back. I want you to be faithful and stop fucking everything in a skirt! For the sake of our child, please stop cheating on me!” she shouts.
“You’re such a fucking dramatic bitch,” I grumble.
“Don’t ever speak to me that way,” she hisses before she slaps me.
Everything within me goes cold as I freeze and stare at her. I have to get away from her before I hurt her. She doesn’t realize how close to the edge I am because she doesn’t stop even when I turn away.
“Get out of my way,” I growl as she throws herself in front of me.
“No! Not until you agree that we will tell our families!”
“I fucking won’t.”
“You will tell them or I will!” she shouts, repeatedly punching me in the back.
I swirl on her, grab her wrist, and push her against the doorjamb.
“I hate you!” she shouts as she kicks me.
My hand goes to her throat, and I squeeze. Our faces are merely an inch apart when I snarl, “Don’t ever fucking touch me again!”
I see a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye, but when I turn, no one’s there. It pains me that my house staff has to tread lightly in our home. They often avert their eyes from me for days after one of Grazie’s and my big showdowns. I know it makes them uncomfortable but sometimes she won’t rest until she gets a rise from me.
“Don’t come to my room tonight.”
“I’m leaving.”
“So, you’re not going to even spend your last night at home before leaving tomorrow?”
“Why the fuck would I want to?” I growl, storming off.
I don’t need to bother to pack anything. I’ve got enough clothes at my apartment in America.
