I blink, my eyes widening at his words. I’ve never had him talk to me this way before. Then again, I’ve never even been late to work, let alone just not shown up for several days.
Clearing my throat, I try to stay calm as I attempt to explain to him as much as I can about my situation, which to be honest, isn’t much.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be in—”
“Until when?” he demands, interrupting me.
“Forever,” I blurt out.
My heart slams against my chest, my breath comes out in short pants as I attempt to calm myself down. He’s got my anxiety through the roof and I shouldn’t feel this way. Working there was a job, it was a career, but nobody’s life depended on me showing up to the office or not.
“Unacceptable,” he growls. “I expect you in your office by tomorrow morning.”
He ends the call and I’m left staring at my phone screen. “What in the world?” I whisper to myself just as there is a knock on the bedroom door.
“Rosana, it’s almost time to leave for lunch with Salvatore,” Valerius calls out.
Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, then let it out before I answer him. “Okay, I’ll be right out.”
I need to get myself together. I don’t know what is wrong with my boss, but I decide immediately that I will not be going into the office tomorrow or any other day. What I will be doing is telling Salvatore about the weird conversation, because it feels very, very off.
Chapter Ten
SALVATORE
Ermanno walks through my office door twenty minutes before Valerius is supposed to be bringing Rosana by. I don’t turn him away though, he looks like he’s been beat to absolute hell.
I don’t know Ermanno well, he’s the Underboss for Benicio who is the Boss to the Ricci famiglia and married to Nicola Ricci herself. A takeover that Gavino gladly had a huge hand in, a way to build his empire.
All I know about the situation is there was some serious drama around Nicola and Benicio getting together including shit with the Colombian cartel. Ermanno kept the head of the cartel’s daughter, Valentina, as his personal prize. They were married a few years ago and as far as I knew, happily.
“Hope you got a minute,” he announces as he sits down across from me.
Arching a brow, I sit back in my chair and look over to him. “I suppose I do,” I say with a chuckle.
He smirks. “Need you to draw up divorce papers.”
“Ermanno,” I warn, knowing that Made Men do not get divorces.
He rests his elbows on his knees and watches me for a long moment. “She fucked someone else.”
My eyes widen and I wonder what in the actual fuck is going on over there? He doesn’t make me ask, in fact, he tells me everything.
“I work a lot. I neglect her, but it’s not like I can be next to her all day every day. I have a job, it’s important and I’m an Underboss. We don’t spend much time together and as several years have passed, we spend even less.
“At first, we were okay doing our own thing. She spent time with Nicola and then slowly started spending less and less time with her. I didn’t ask, didn’t really give a fuck where she was as long as she was home when I wanted her to be.”
“Fuck,” I hiss, knowing exactly where this is going. “Then she started not being home at night?” I guess.
He nods his head. “So, I hired one of the guys to keep tabs on her.”
“And?”
He clears his throat and leans back in his seat, his gaze finding mine and holding it. “She was fucking someone else. Head down, ass up.”
“And you did what to him?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s not him, he probably doesn’t even know who she is, let alone who I am. He’s just some tool from her gym.”
I’m surprised.
No matter who the fuck he was, if someone was fucking Rosana, I would slit him from gut to throat, zero hesitations.
I want to kill Miguel simply for having been inside of her before I was married to her, never mind what he’s said to me about her, and I’ve only been married to Rosana for a few days, not years like Ermanno and Valentina.
“So you just want to file for divorce?” I ask.
He nods his head a couple of times. “I do.”
“Children?”
He shakes his head. “Four miscarriages, no children.”
There it is.
That is the reason.
It’s guilt, probably for both of them. Distance and guilt. I don’t blame him then, he has compassion for his wife and they probably can’t communicate, so this is what they’ve done. They’ve distanced themselves.
I’ve seen it with a few other marriages that have come through my door. Though not many, as I’m not really a family law attorney, but for the famiglia, I am anything and everything they need me to be.
“Ermanno—”
He holds up his hand, his palm facing me. “I have heard it all, Sal. She was innocent when it came to her father, she gave us all of the information she could. We tried to make it work, it doesn’t. She deserves some happiness in her life and being with me isn’t that.”
“So what happens after this?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder. “Doesn’t matter. Offer her a lump sum, whatever you think is fair, add a couple hundred thousand to that number. She can have the house and her car, too. I’ll take care of any credit card debt she has. I just want her to be happy. Draw it up, I’ll sign whatever needs to be signed.”
Without another word, he turns and walks away from me. I watch him go, sadness sliding through me at his predicament. No couple should have to go through what they’ve had to endure.
Picking up my phone, I make a call to Kimberly’s desk. “Yes,” she purrs.
I don’t know why she’s become so flirty all of a sudden, but it’s not something that I appreciate. She is my paralegal, I am her boss. We are not ever going to be anything more. Especially not now that I’m married, not that I would have ever fucked an employee, anyway.
I stay far away from that kind of entanglement. I saw my father fuck more than one secretary and file clerk and it never ended well, for anyone.
Clearing my throat, I ask her to draw up the paperwork for Ermanno and Valentina. I don’t give her specifics, but I don’t have time to sit and do the whole form myself. I can fill in the blanks on the items that she doesn’t know, that I’m not willing to divulge.
Ending the teleconference, I don’t bother saying anything else, deciding to close my eyes for a moment and just breathe.
Fuck.
I hate to see people unhappy, especially my brothers in the famiglia. I hate to see families ripped apart. Even if they didn’t have children, Ermanno and his wife are family.
There’s a knock on my door and before I can tell the person on the other side to enter, my own wife walks through the door.
Immediately I notice that she looks off.
“Rosana?” I ask.
“It’s nothing,” she says, lifting her hand and waving it around.
Arching a brow, all thoughts of Ermanno and his wife vanish, my focus is on my own and nowhere else.
“Tell me, then.”
“It’s my boss. He got angry with me for missing work. He’s never yelled at me, not once, and when I called in, he yelled at me more than once. Then he demanded I show up to work tomorrow morning when I told him that I wouldn’t be coming back at all. Something didn’t sit right with me.”
“You’re not going back to work at all?” I ask.
“Not there, I can’t.”
Nodding my head, I understand what she’s saying. I wouldn’t want her to go back there, anyway. Honestly, I don’t want her to work. But I’m not going to make those kinds of rules for her, she’s an adult woman with a degree, it’s up to her if she wants to work or stay home. A conversation that apparently, we need to have.
“We’ll talk about it over lunch?”
She nods. “Okay, yeah.”<
br />
ROSANA
I didn’t expect an actual sit-down restaurant for lunch, I thought maybe a café down the street, but here we are, wine menu in hand.
Placing the menu down, I open my mouth to order a sparkling water when Salvatore orders one for me, obviously having figured out my love for bubbly water.
We order without delay and I choose a side salad, soup, and half a sandwich. I’m starving. I half expected Valerius to join us, but he doesn’t. He leaves us and tells Salvatore that he has something to take care of while we eat.
“Work,” Salvatore says as soon as the waiter walks away.
“Work,” I repeat, unsure of what to say, mainly because I’m unsure of what I want.
Salvatore clears his throat, then shifts in his seat. “You could find another job in finance, a famiglia job, maybe?” he says.
I hadn’t thought about that, working for someone in the famiglia, although I don’t know why I hadn’t, almost every wife that I know of does in some capacity or another.
“Or...” he says, breaking my thoughts of working for someone in the famiglia.
“Or?” I ask when he doesn’t continue right away.
“You could stay home with the baby.”
The thought, it is so appealing and I would be a liar if I said that I hadn’t been thinking of that exact thing. What a waste though, right? A waste of my abilities and my degree? A degree that Pippa and Massimo so generously paid for without hesitation.
Salvatore reaches across the table, wrapping his fingers around mine, and squeezes gently. Lifting my eyes to meet his, he smiles.
“Why don’t you stay home for now. Get used to our new life, get everything ready for the arrival of this little one, then go from there after it’s born?”
His suggestion is perfect. It’s everything I would want him to say, but the way he says it, I know that he means it. But it just makes me feel guilty all over again, so guilty for my life choices. So guilty for bringing a baby into this relationship that isn’t his. So guilty for every mistake that I’ve made, because he’s so fucking nice.
“Rosana?” he asks, his voice soft and concerned.
I feel wetness falling down my cheeks, and I realize that I’m crying. Tugging my hand from beneath his, I wipe the tears away and shake my head a couple times, trying to get the thoughts out of my head, all of the thoughts, because they’re all things that I simply just cannot change.
“If you don’t mind. I think staying out of the workforce right now would be the safest route.”
Salvatore’s eyes crinkle as he gives me a smile. “I don’t mind at all, bambola. I wanted to talk to you about something else today, too,” he begins. “What about a house? The condo is nice and close to my office, but it’s only a two-bedroom, would you like something larger for our family?”
Family.
I hadn’t really thought about that. It’s been less than a week since I’ve been married, and just about two weeks since I found out about the pregnancy, but the word family doesn’t seem like it’s part of my life, but it will be very shortly.
“Do you like your place?” I ask.
He shrugs a shoulder, but I can tell that he does like it. It’s his home and I make a snap decision, as I tend to do more often than not. Another reason I’m probably in the predicament that I am. Smiling, I reach across the table, this time taking his hand in mine instead of him taking mine in his.
“We’re staying.”
“Yeah?” he asks on a chuckle. “What happens when we have more?”
I focus on his eyes, trying not to think about having more children. Because to have children together, we would need to have sex and I’m trying really hard not to think about having sex with him.
Mainly because I really want to have sex with him and if I think about it, I’m going to throw myself at him and act like a total idiot, similar to what happened this morning between us, except way more desperate.
“Then we cross that bridge when we get there.”
He chuckles, dipping his chin, his gaze still connected to my own. “Then we cross that bridge when we get there, Rosana. I like that. Okay, then we stay where we are. You have free rein of the house. The guest room is yours to turn into a nursery, the rest is yours to decorate as you see fit.”
“Where will you sleep?” I ask, blurting the question out without thought.
His eyes darken and his nostrils flare slightly at the question. I don’t think that I’m being too out of line, he spent last night in the bed with me, but I didn’t think that it was permanent.
“One night in the guest room was enough. We’re married, and although we aren’t quite to the physical part of our relationship yet, we really shouldn’t be sleeping separately, not if we want to get to that physical part anytime soon.”
I do want that too, that getting to the physical part soon. I know that I shouldn’t, I’m a freaking disaster, but I want his touch. I think I might even need it. I have no doubt that there is probably something psychologically wrong with me that I’m so willing to quickly move on to another man, but I can’t think about any of that, not when my life is on the line.
Not when the man who is sitting across from me willingly saved me when he didn’t have to. Not when he touches me and I feel like my entire body is going to explode with desire. None of that is wrong, I don’t care what anyone says—at least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Chapter Eleven
ROSANA
Day three.
I’m bored.
I shouldn’t be. I have things that I could do, but all of them involve shopping and I don’t really want to go shopping. Lying on the sofa, I stare at the ceiling and try to figure out how I am going to spend the next eight months or so like this? I’m going to lose my mind.
“Tell me,” I call out, turning my head toward Valerius.
“Tell you?” he asks when I don’t continue.
Smiling, I lick my lips. “Tell me, are you single? Got a woman? I don’t know. Tell me anything.”
He chuckles. “I’m single. I have many women.”
Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head from side to side. “The hookers, right? At the casino?”
Valerius snorts. “Sometimes, not always. I have a few girls in the city I visit on the regular.”
“Gross, why don’t you just pick one?”
He shrugs a shoulder. “Why are you worried about where my dick goes?” he asks.
“Touché. I mean, I don’t care, I’m just curious and bored.”
“You shouldn’t be bored, get a hobby or something. Cook for your husband.”
Sitting up, I sit cross-legged and face him. “Because I’m pregnant, I should be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen? Seriously?”
He snorts. “No, because you don’t work and you’re bored. Give yourself something to do and in turn, give him something to look forward to, yeah?”
“Like I’m not enough?” I ask.
I’m not, but Valerius doesn’t know that. He has no clue what our bedroom life is like, at least I don’t think that he does. Before he can answer me, there is a knock on the door.
Looking back, I expect it to fly open but it doesn’t. He holds up his hand to me, palm facing me as if I’m going to rush to the door.
I watch as Valerius walks to the door and looks through the peephole, he lets out a grunt, then opens the door. I hold my breath as he murmurs to whoever is on the other side. Before they walk in, he looks back to me.
“Security cameras are ready to be installed,” he announces.
The door swings open and I watch as three men walk inside. They’re wearing uniforms and carrying bags with equipment inside, but instantly, I feel unnerved. Valerius chats with them, watching them as they move around the house, but the longer they stay, the more uneasy I feel.
Gripping my cell phone in my hand, I jump when it vibrates. Looking at the screen, I find another reason to frown.
The other day Salvatore and I finally exchan
ged numbers, something that I didn’t realize we hadn’t already done until I tried to call him and ask him about something. It was insignificant and I can’t even remember what it was, but I do remember not having his number.
SALVI: WON’T BE HOME UNTIL LATE. EAT WITHOUT ME. ORDER IN IF YOU WANT. SEE YOU LATER. DON’T WAIT UP.
I don’t want to respond with anything nice to say. I want to tell him to just stay gone if he’s going to be fucking some whore. And then I shake my head, because I don’t know where the internal outburst came from.
No.
I do.
I’m insecure and talking with Valerius has me feeling some kind of way. Clearing my throat, I type a response that isn’t snarky or rude. He could be doing something completely and totally innocent.
Okay. I’ll miss you.
There is a moment where I hold my breath as he types back. I don’t know what he’s going to say or why, but I want it to be sweet.
SALVI: I’LL BE HOME WHEN I CAN, BAMBOLA.
My lips curve up into a grin and I let out the breath that I had been holding. There it is. All of my insecurities vanish just at the one sentence.
I’ll wait up.
I know he told me not to, but I’m going to anyway. Last night he kissed me in bed, we made out like teenagers and although it didn’t go any further, I want it to.
I want his hands all over my body and I’m hoping if I stay up late enough, if I am brave enough to initiate and touch him that we can get into some serious heavy petting and maybe some orgasms, too.
SALVI: I’LL TRY NOT TO BE TOO LATE.
My heart melts. “Yes,” I hiss to myself.
Then I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Turning my head, I look behind me to see one of the men watching me. He’s staring at me, hard. As soon as he realizes that I’ve caught him, he turns and starts to do whatever it is he’s supposed to be doing.
Becoming her Salvation (Zanetti Famiglia Book 7) Page 8