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There’s a sharp inhale at the other end, and then Nita answers in a voice filled with regret. “I’m so sorry, Aria. Or should I say, Bianca? But when I saw that photo and realized who you were, I…” She pauses, as if taking the time to choose her words carefully.
It doesn’t matter what words she uses. Betrayal is betrayal.
“I had to think of my kids, Aria. Four under five, and their asshole dad is gone. I made light of it to you, but I can’t do it, hon. Not on my own. I needed the money to help out, at least for a bit. I am truly sorry, you know.”
“Sure. Whatever. I hope he paid you well. Goodbye.” I lean forward and press the End button before Rio can do it, then shift along the seat until I’m as far away from my husband as I can be. I wrap my arms around my middle, fighting nausea.
The thing is, I can’t even blame Nita. Not really. She just did exactly what I did. I betrayed Rio and ran from him to protect my child. She betrayed me for her children. She was just better at it than me.
Like Rio said,karma. It really is a bitch.
I release a laugh at the irony, then keep laughing, until the laughter turns to sobs, and I stuff a hand against my mouth in a vain attempt to stop the hysterical sounds from emerging.
He tucks away his phone, then sits quietly, studying me.
The quiet is worse than his raging temper. I can tell he is simmering with unspoken emotion, but the lack of expressiveness means I’m just waiting for the explosion. And the longer it doesn’t come, the more difficult it gets to simply wait for the reaction.
Finally, I can’t stand the silence any longer.
“Are we driving all the way back to Boston? And where in Boston are we going? Do you still live at the riverside estate, or do you have somewhere new you hang out?”Since the massacre. I don’t voice the latter, but his eye twitches in the slightest possible tell.
The memory clearly still affects him. As it would. He lost his aunt in that attack on the estate, along with several employees.
“Well, Rio? I have a right to know what you’re going to do with me.”
“Youbelieve you have rights? After your betrayal?”
There is no emotion in his tone. No light in his eyes. Maybe I made up all the softer feelings I thought he’d developed toward me in my brief time as his wife.
Or maybe those feelings were true, and I destroyed them when I ran. Maybe he was so unused to trusting anyone that when I betrayed that trust, everything human in him simply shrivelled up and died.
“Please, Rio. Are we driving back to Boston?”
The corner of his eye again tics briefly, before he rubs a finger over the area. The twitch disappears as if it never existed at all. “We will fly back. The airport isn’t far.”
His mouth snaps shut, as if even that brief explanation is too much for him to have revealed.
“Are you going to kill me, Rio?”
I don’t mean for the question to come out so shakily, but every part of me is terrified about what I’m heading into.
He laughs, the sound brief and humorless. I press back into the leather of the seat, but there’s nowhere to go.
“Not yet, little bird,” he answers in a soft tone.
The softness is deceptive. I hear the underlying anger beneath it.
“You are carrying my child. When the baby is born, I will reconsider your future then.”
“But—”
“No, Bianca. No but. No if. No maybe. Be quiet now. I have work to attend to.”
He turns away from me, twisting his body so he is no longer facing me, and pushes a couple of buttons on the door beside him. A table rises up from the floor of the limo, and I shuffle my feet quickly to the side so they don’t get caught up in the mechanism. The table holds a shiny silver laptop. He flips the lid and begins to tap on the keyboard, and the rest of our journey to the airport is conducted in silence.
I have so many unanswered questions, most of which I’m afraid to ask.
Not yet, he said. What does that mean? When my baby arrives, is he going to kill me and dump my body in the river behind his estate? Am I going to get the concrete-boots treatment that everyone in the movies talks about? Is that an actual thing in Rio’s world?
