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I scan the room again even though I know she is not here, then walk out and head to the ground floor, knowing she will be in the kitchen with Evelyn. It's nine in the morning, so breakfast it is.
“Rosaline,” I walk into the kitchen to find Evelyn arranging breakfast in carts.
“Good morning, Benedetto,” she smiles at me.
“Morning Evelyn,” I look around the kitchen, searching for Rosaline as if she could be tucked into the shelf or squeezed into a pot, because it's pretty obvious she is not here.
“You missed her, she stepped out not long ago to take a walk,” Evelyn points at the entrance and I turn to it.
“She hates walks,” I scoff. It doesn't make any sense. If there's anything Rosaline hates it is physical strain.
I hear the door open, but instead of Rosaline walking into the kitchen, two domestic staff, one a brunette and the other a ginger, walk in, both mumbling and giggling.
“Have you seen Rosaline?” I ask the both of them as they walk to Evelyn.
“She was heading towards the golf club’s main entrance when we saw her,” the Brunette answers and I don't wait for more, I dash out.
It better not be what I'm thinking.
I step out of the manor and take scampering strides through a shortcut that keeps me in the compound but allows me to see the other side of the road. I keep walking on the manicured lawn barefoote, jumping over daisies and some only-the-fucking-devil-knows what flowers.
I stop when I see her in the distance in a white and black dress, scuttling towards a car.
It is what I'm thinking then. She is fucking leaving. She is leaving and she didn’t even have the fucking decency to say anything. Not like I would let her, no matter what she would have said. But fuck it.
I grit, watching as the car reverses and drives into the street. It's tinted and it's a Tesla, so that's not a cab. She called someone to come pick her up. I nod to myself and dash back into the manor, crushing some more fucking flowers on my way.
I take hurried steps up the stairs and I don't breathe till I get to my quarters.
“She is gone,” I throw at Orazio, then go to swing the door of my closet open to check for something suitable for a wedding.
“Gone where?” Orazio stands.
“To New York, I saw her get into a car ,” I pluck out a tux but drop it.
“And what will you do?”
“I'm going to New York,” I walk to my nightstand and pick up my car key.
“You are going after her?”
“I'm going to Romano and Giada’s wedding,” I beeline.
“This early?”
“Yeah, so what? I'm going after her because I know she will be going there.”
“And what if she wasn't going there? What if she decided to just leave?”
I know what he is saying and I am trying not to think about that.
“What if not?” I shrug and stomp out of my bedroom.
I can't waste any more time and it's not like I even know where the fuck the car is headed for me to track her down. I just haveto hope my luck is changing and she is in fact going for the wedding.
Taking the stairs two at a time, I find myself outside my car. I can shop for something to wear in New York.
I climb in and drive out of the compound like a man whose tail is on fire because that's exactly how I feel. I feel betrayed that she would go with someone else. That she would feel protected by someone else. What am I even fucking thinking? She cheated on her fucking fiancé, surely she has male friends with benefits buzzing around her like bees. One call is enough to get one down here.
