AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Destined for our warehouse in Albany.”
“Let me get this straight. One of your trucks—a whole shipment—has literally disappeared?”
“It has.” Rossi leans back, his expression grim, before looking down at his cigar as if only just remembering it. He sucks on it furiously.
My pulse rate speeds up, but I do my best not to show my unease.
Unlike Rossi, I lift the cigar and take a pull in a slow and measured manner, before saying, “Then the war has already begun, Carlos, and we still do not know who our enemy is. I anticipated this, and I have already called a board meeting.”
Rossi’s eyes widen, and his mouth parts slightly. “The family heads? All of them? Together again in one room? When? And more importantly, where?”
I grin at him, aware that the grin does not reach my eyes. “This evening. Here at the estate. How convenient that you are already here. And yes, it has been three years since we were all under the same roof together. But it is time. We must unite against our common enemy, and then we have to bring him down before we are undone ourselves. Oldfriend.”
* * *
Bianca
The womanwho brings my lunch gives me a heads-up that I may be called upon to attend a meeting later today, and I should dress accordingly. What does that mean? What sort of meeting, and who will be there?
She simply shrugs when I ask and leaves me alone to eat yet another solitary meal.
It has been a week since I last saw Rio. Since he dropped his guard and revealed more of himself than I knew how to deal with. Since his monster reared up and scared me half to death.
I assume that’s why he’s steered clear since then. Because I can’t imagine he enjoyed exposing any part of his inner self, even to me.
I don’t want to love him, but I do. And I’m guessing he feels the same complex push-pull, love-hate thing when it comes to me.
I’ve tried to do as he said since that night, and be as cooperative as I can. The doctor and nurse have been in every second day to check on me, and two of the goons take me upstairs and let me walk in the gardens twice a day—morning and early evening.
I always strain for a glimpse of Rio, but he must sequester himself away at those times because I’ve not caught even the faintest hint of his presence since he left my bed that night.
I only know he’s still in residence here because I asked the nurse, Selina.
The summons to attend one of his meetings comes as a surprise. I assume he wants me there so he can send some kind of message to his business cronies. Probably to show them that I’m firmly back under his control.
He’s made no secret of the fact that he still desires me, but he’s also been candid about the damage I caused to the family by running away.
I need to make a statement by locking you up, he said when he brought me here.
That “statement” began the moment he placed me down here and removed my freedom. Again. He knows how much I hated that last time. And when he commands that I attend a meeting of his choosing, without giving me any information at all about where, why, or with whom, he compounds the punishment by confirming—to me and to everyone who matters—that I have no autonomy. No choice about anything except the requirement to serve his needs.
I debate the wisdom of pulling on a set of comfortable PJs and climbing into bed for an afternoon nap, but no doubt that will simply delay the inevitable. So, in the end, I shower and dress in what I think may be suitable attire for a business meeting, and then I sit and wait.
After half an hour, I begin to second-guess myself. Now I’m thinking he probably doesn’t want me to look “businesslike” at all. I know Rio, and I know this male-dominated lifestyle. Women, whether wives or mistresses, are for display only. They are window dressing, and what he most likely expects from me at this meeting is a show of support from a woman who repents her bad behavior and will do anything to get back into his good graces.
I could try to defy him, but it would be a fight I’d surely lose. What can I do, stuck down here? My mind circles back again to my decision to cooperate. The best thing for me, and my baby, is to comply with his wishes as much as I can, and eventually, he may trust me enough to give me back my freedom.
I’m not sure if that’s the full truth, but my mind shies away from facing any other reason. The way he looked at me when he last left, with warmth softening the hard planes of his face. The surprised delight in his expression—quickly brought under control, but I saw it—when our baby kicked for the first time beneath his touch.
No, don’t think about that. Don’t humanize him. He’s still a monster. He took Rossi’s finger off, for Christ’s sake.
I slide out of the charcoal maternity trousers and white satin shirt that I had chosen because the clever cut of it hid my baby bump, and flick through various other clothing items in my walk-in wardrobe. Finally, I settle on a burgundy minidress that is so figure-hugging it will leave nothing to the imagination.
Deep down, I suspect Rio will want to remind whoever is at the meeting that the woman who gave him the Carlotti outfit is now expecting his child.
And if he wants to show off his pregnant wife? This is the outfit to achieve that.
I am dressed and fully made up in what I call my classy mob-wife look when they come for me.
