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“When was the last time you took your pills? Do you remember where you were?”
Alessandra shook her head. “I usually keep them on the vanity. I only take them before bed because they make me drowsy.”
Drake lifted her vanity off the floor and set it upright. He searched the floor around it, including the little wastebasket. He picked up her hamper and shook it. When he heard a rattling sound, he dumped the contents.
“I found them, bella. They must’ve fallen into the hamper.”
“Thank you, Drake,” she said softly.
She took the pill and placed the bottle on the vanity as if nothing happened.
“Do you feel like they’re helping?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
Drake kissed Alessandra’s forehead and told her to lie down while he cleaned the closet. He made a mental note of the items that weren’t salvageable so he could order their replacements from his stylist.
By the time he was finished, his hand throbbed. He looked at the broken skin on his knuckles for the first time. The pain was welcome. It reminded him of what he had to fight for.
Drake had to get his shit together. The time for games was over. It was time to finish this.
***
Chapter Thirty-Three
The clock ticked painfully, mocking them with every passing second. With every passing hour, Drake’s mood darkened considerably.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, Drake, but I think divorce is your only option,” Grant said.
“And what would Alessandra do then? I can’t let her fend for herself. Not right now. It’s too dangerous, and she’s the most vulnerable she’s ever been.”
Grant gestured to Drake’s raw knuckles. “And you’re spiraling out of control, Drago. I warned you before you’re too close to this. I won’t cover for you if you’ve taken another life.”
“Don’t worry, the fucker is still alive.”
Jerry cleared his throat. “She can stay with Noah and me. We’ll take care of her, Drake. You won’t have to worry about it. I can push your divorce through quickly,” he offered.
“I don’t want to get a divorce.” Drake ran his hand through his disheveled hair. “Damn Anthony and Enzo for putting us into this position.”
“We’ll devise a plan, Drake. This will be over soon, and then you and Alessandra can move on with your lives,” Grant promised.
* * *
Drake and Alessandra continued tiptoeing around each other like strangers, creating a frosty atmosphere in their home. There’d been no intimacy between them since the night in Enzo’s club, as though they feared being lovers. It was self-preservation to ease the hurt they’d feel in the end.
“I picked up dinner on the way home.” Drake lifted the take-out bag of Italian food.
“Thank you, Drake.” Alessandra smiled though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’ll set the table.”
Over dinner, they made small talk discussing their respective days. Drake didn’t tell her about Grant’s plan. It was too early, and he didn’t want to get her hopes up if it failed.
“I’m here if you need to talk, Alessandra. I don’t mean to add to your stress. Just know how sorry I am for all of this. I’m sorry I kept secrets from you. I just wanted to keep you safe from this part of my past because you’d been hurt so many times. Once again, I fucked up.”
“Marriage is a partnership. I should’ve listened to you, too. But I wish you would’ve put your trust in me. You shouldn’t have said the vows if you didn’t intend to keep them.”
Here he was trying to be honest, and she acted as though his words and their love meant nothing. While the jibe may have been deserved, her words were a strike to his festering, wounded pride. Drake refused to take the provocation. The dread seeping into his pores couldn’t be ignored anymore as he watched her walk away. He stood from the table to follow her into the guest bedroom.
“Are you seriously planning to sleep in here?”
