Chloe locks the door, then hesitantly, slowly, she makes her way toward me. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I watch as she fishes her phone out of her blazer pocket. She touches the screen a few times before she closes her eyes as what looks like pain crosses over her face.
Lifting her gaze to mine, she inhales a sharp breath with tears in her eyes.
“Chloe? What is it?”
She shakes her head, her watery eyes focused on me. “I’m so sorry, Lenora. I just, my heart is broken for you,” she whispers as she shoves her phone toward me.
Reaching out, I allow the device to fall into my palm. Bringing it closer, I glance down at the screen and that’s when my heart shatters into a million pieces. It’s fitting really. My inventory, all of my life’s work is in a million pieces, why wouldn’t my heart be as well?
There is an article staring back at me, accompanied by a picture of course.
SENATOR MCCLAIN’S DAUGHTER MARRIED.
My eyes scan the article, it’s from some gossip site. Because I’m some kind of glutton for punishment, I read what the reporter has to say.
‘Senator McClain’s daughter, Wynter, married the ever so handsome Italian, Carlo Zanetti, Jr. The ceremony took place at the beautiful Saint Augustine Roman Catholic church, followed by a private ceremony on a yacht. The couple has not honeymooned, yet, but sources say that they are planning a European tour. Swoon. Just for the record, Wynter McClain is one lucky girl, has anyone looked at that man’s blue eyes. I am done for!’
The picture is what kills me. My knees buckle at the sight. It’s him, it’s my Carlo, and he’s standing next to her. His suit is gorgeous, as usual, his hair perfect and his eyes, the most beautiful blue on this earth. She’s plastered to his side in a gorgeous white lace gown, a smile plastered on her flawlessly made-up face.
I can see her diamonds sparkling, the same ones that she was wearing not too long ago in my shop. I knew the woman who visited me for her wedding lingerie was trouble, but I couldn’t have ever guessed why.
“I’m a whore,” I whisper.
“What?” Chloe gasps. “Shut your mouth and don’t ever say that again,” she snaps.
I have to tear my eyes from the photograph that is mocking me. “Chloe, I’m the other woman,” I breathe. The tears that had gathered in my eyes, they fall. They stream down my cheeks. “I’m in love with another woman’s husband. I’m living with him. I’m a kept woman.”
“Stop it,” she barks. My lips snap closed and I look up at her. She puts her hands on her waist and cocks one hip out to the side. “That man is a piece of shit,” she announces. “You didn’t know. None of this is your fault.”
“The wife knows. She came in here right before the wedding and bought lingerie, then again yesterday,” I explain.
Chloe’s eyes slide to the side, where I know the torn-up fabric is piled high on the floor. “You don’t think…”
I follow her gaze, my heart breaking even more. I didn’t know it was possible, but apparently it is. The pieces break into smaller ones. Sitting in a pile of rubble in the middle of my chest.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” I breathe.
My knees finally give out and I sink to the floor, uncaring if it’s dirty or if I get dirty. It doesn’t matter anymore.
Nothing matters.
My store is useless until I can get my insurance payout and by then my rent will have been due several times over I’m sure and since I can’t pay the rent without selling my inventory. I am fucked. And I’m homeless. Because there is no way in hell I’m going back to Carlo’s place. No way in hell.
“Let’s get you to my place. We’ll order some takeout and drink, we’ll drink a lot,” she smiles, holding out her hand in an offering.
Reaching up to her, I allow her to pull me to my feet. Together we lock up the shop, leaving the mess in the middle of the floor, again.
Chloe doesn’t say anything else to me as we make our way back to her place. I’m thankful for the silence, but then again, it gives me more time to think about my situation.
My terrible fucking situation.
My completely fucked up life.
ARLO
My phone rings and I curse as I see who is on the other end. Ignoring the call from my wife, I turn back to Luca. I’ve asked him to have a soldier keep tabs on Wynter for the past couple of weeks and he’s giving me the first report.
“So, basically you don’t have shit,” I snarl.
Luca shrugs. “She’s on her phone all the time. Other than that, she doesn’t talk to anyone. She works out alone, she lunches alone, she goes to the spa alone, and she shops alone. She’s one boring fucking bitch,” he grunts.
“Maybe I need to get access to her phone,” I mutter.
“Can’t imagine it would be more interesting than what my man was just forced to do the past two weeks. You know he contemplated suicide, he was so goddamn bored,” he announces.
Lifting my gaze to his, I tell him about Sugar Cookies and what happened. Then, I explain that Wynter knows about Lenora or at the very least suspects.
Luca lifts a brow. “That explains it then,” he mumbles.
“Explains what?”
He shakes his head, lifting his hand and wrapping his fingers around the back of his neck. “Chloe. She texted me a few minutes ago, canceled our date tonight. Said something came up with a friend. I assume it is Lenora.”
Reaching into my pocket, I fish out my own phone and frown when I notice that Lenora hasn’t responded to my own text message. I sent her one around noon, then again at two, and finally at four. She’s ignored them all. Something uneasy settles in my gut.
“Call your woman, see if Lenora is with her.”
“Arlo,” he warns. “I am not getting in the middle of your shit. Me and Chloe are good, she’s the one and I’m not going to fuck it up.”
I shake my head. “Doesn’t have anything to do with you two, Luca. This is about me and Lenora.”
“And your wife,” he adds.
I grimace at his mention of Wynter, again. Fucking hell. I need to get rid of her, but without evidence, I can’t leave her, I won’t get approval from the church or the famiglia. Plus, that contract is solid, until I can find reason for it not to be.
“I just need to know she’s okay.”
He nods, and I watch as his fingers fly over the screen of his phone. A few moments later he lifts his gaze to mine. He looks a little pale, maybe a little sick. He doesn’t elaborate, but he assures me that she’s safe and with Chloe before he leaves my office.
I don’t have time to think about it much, because as soon as he walks out of the door, Gavino takes his place.
“Everything for the auction set in motion?” he asks.
“Are you bored now that you’ve decided to relinquish some of your duties to others?” I ask, arching a brow.
He snorts. “Bored? No. Wanting an update? Yes.”
I sigh, leaning back in my chair, then I tell him everything that Mia and I discussed. Next, I go over the new male escorts and the long list of clients that are already ready to employ them for an evening or two.
“Good. That was a good choice then, when will they be ready?” he asks.
“One more week. Carmella is a goddess.” I shrug.
Gavino snorts. “She is just that. Now, everything is set and signed with the commissioner and the senator?”
“Commissioner Robinson signed the deal on paper, then took advantage of my offer to celebrate with a woman.” I grin.
“You taped it, didn’t you?”
“You know that I did. Insurance is a pretty fucking important thing to have, cugino.”
Reaching into his pocket, I watch as he pulls out a couple of blunts. Reaching forward, I take the one that he offers me. We both light them up and close our eyes for a moment as we inhale.
“Do you have everything in place to ditch the ball and chain?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I can’t in good c
onscience, not yet at least.”
“You do know that you don’t always have to be a good Catholic boy, don’t you?”
“I do have to be a good man for my parents, though,” I volley back to him. “However, I haven’t been a good Catholic boy since I tasted my first pussy at twelve, or made my first kill at thirteen.”
He dips his chin, taking another inhale before he releases the smoke. “You’re not good at all, though. Having a comáre is the exact opposite of being good, Arlo, and you know it.”
Lifting my hand, I run my fingers through my hair with a sigh. Inhaling the smoke, I let his words roll around in my head. He’s right, after all, he’s usually right and I fucking hate that shit.
“The man I have watching her hasn’t found anything that I can use.”
“Why don’t you have him become the something you can use, at least for the famiglia and church. The contract, you already know you don’t have to worry about that, especially now that you’ve insured yourself a second time with the commissioner and that plane deal.”
I nod in agreement. “Do you think she’d take the bait. I think she’s smarter, well at least more devious, than she puts on.”
“I have no doubt that she is devious as fuck,” Gavino grunts. “I also know her type. Give the man some gifts to sweet talk her with. Make sure someone is around to take the photos of her. You can’t go by your word or anyone else’s, not with this.”
“I agree.” I nod.
“And for the love of God, tell your woman what is going on so that she can stay vigilant. Massimo can’t watch her twenty-four-seven.”
“I should have known he’d tell you about that,” I mumble.
Gavino stands, shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know if her signature on the NDA is real or not.”
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out. “I have to get home to Ciana. You need to figure this shit out and do it quickly. Ciana likes Lenora a fuck’ve a lot. She does not like Wynter. I like Ciana to be happy, so I like Lenora as well.”
He turns and I watch him walk out of my office, my lips twitching into a smile at the words he’s just said. He loves my cousin more than anything else in the world and that shit makes me fucking happy. Luci deserves all of the happiness that she could ever get.
Now, I just have to figure out how to get my own, without hurting everyone that I love in the process. My parents will flip their shit if I just file for divorce. It has to be for a valid goddamn reason, it has to be an annulment approved by the church.
Maybe everyone was right, maybe I should have looked for a way out of the engagement instead of going through with it.
Goddamn, why do I have to be so fucking stubborn?
Chapter Twenty-One
ARLO
The casino lights, the sounds and the smells don’t give me that high that they used to. They should. Everything is lackluster right now, though. I can’t shake the feeling that the tight grasp I have on my life is slipping through my fingers.
I’ve never felt like a bigger fuck up than I do right now. I’ve married someone I can’t stand and I’ve fallen in love with a woman that I can’t marry. I have no right to keep Lenora, but I can’t let her go either. I won’t let her go.
Lifting my hand, I run my shaky fingers through my hair as I walk through the casino. Call girls mill around me, giggling to their dates. Seeing them in their barely there dresses, hanging onto their men for the evening used to fill me with pride.
Now, I don’t know what I feel, but with my life being unbalanced I feel fucking sick in general.
“You look like you could use some company,” a deep voice says next to me.
Arching a brow, I turn my head only to see my father’s blue eyes staring back at me. “Why are you here of all places?” I ask.
He snorts. “Your mother doesn’t like me holding poker night at the house, we get a private room here once a month.” He shrugs.
“Just cards?” I ask.
He shakes his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “For me, yes,” he nods. “You know a comáre isn’t my style. I didn’t take over the famiglia for a reason. It’s not in me to be that man. Besides, marriage is something that I take very seriously, something that I thought my son took seriously as well?”
“What do you know?” I ask.
He shifts his gaze to a waitress and lifts his chin. When she arrives, he orders two whiskeys and then levels me with his eyes.
“I know there is someone else. Men talk, and you, my son, are the talk right now.”
I wince from his words and the way it’s obvious he holds an anger toward me for being such a goddamn disappointment. I am that too, which fucking hurts more than it should. This is why I could never be the Boss, why I helped Gavino take over, instead of pushing for it myself. I may be a Zanetti by blood and name, but I am not by demeanor. I am weak.
Clearing my throat, I nod once. “My wife isn’t a nice woman,” I explain.
My father interrupts me by bursting out in a harsh laugh. “No fuckin’ shit, figlio.”
“I met someone else a few months before the wedding. I intended to do right by everyone when I proposed. I was going to live a life of misery for the famiglia.”
“But this new woman, she stole your heart?” he asks.
The waitress appears with our whiskeys and I thank her as I take the drink from her tray and quickly swallow it in one gulp.
“She has it, I gave it to her willingly and I think my wife has found out about it. I’m worried for her safety,” I admit.
Saying the words aloud causes my gut to clench. Everything about this situation feels so goddamn wrong. I can feel the impending doom like a thick layer hovering just above me. Something really bad is about to happen and I’m under no illusion that I’ll be able to prevent it.
“I want to give you advice, but figlio, I think this one is all on you.”
Nodding, I look around the room. “It is, unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep from hurting everyone in the process. Except maybe, Wynter, I’m not sure she has a heart to hurt,” I chuckle, attempting to make light of the situation.
My father shakes his head once, bringing his whiskey glass to his lips and finishing its contents. “I think that she doesn’t know how to open her heart. She’s spoiled and selfish because that was the way she was taught to be. I feel sorry for her, really. She’ll never have true love, just as she’ll never give love to another. She is very broken, Arlo. Maybe don’t be so hard on her?”
Lifting my hand, I bring my palm down on my dad’s shoulder and squeeze. “You are too soft, Papa,” I whisper. “You see the good in everyone.”
He dips his chin, lifting his gaze to mine. “Softness is something that I only have for my family. You know this. I do not see the good in everyone, you also know this. Do not mistake my words, Arlo. I do feel pity for the girl, but if she hurts you over this, I will relish in her demise.”
He turns, leaving me where I’m standing in the middle of the casino. I watch as he walks back toward the private rooms, the exact one where I took Lenora just a few weeks ago. Unable to stand around another moment longer, I leave the casino and head toward my car.
Slipping into my driver’s seat, I decide that I can’t allow Lenora to stay with Chloe for another moment longer. Fuck Wynter, fuck my place with her. It isn’t home. Home is next to Lenora.
Driving across the bridge, I call Luca. There are voices in the background, one that I know for certain is Lenora’s immediately when he answers my call. I’m instantly jealous.
“I’m on my way. Don’t tell her,” I warn.
“Probably not the best idea,” he mutters.
I snort. “I could give a fuck if you think it’s a good idea.”
He waits for a moment and I think he’s going to tell me something, but instead he only makes a tsking sound before he ends the call. I don’t know what that was about, why he wouldn’t want me to come over, but I don’t care either. I am.
“Benicio,” I greet.
“You know I’m not really working with Gavino much anymore,” he says as his own greeting.
I chuckle, enjoying his dry and to-the-point personality. “This isn’t about the famiglia. This is personal.”
“Personal? Do tell,” he murmurs.
“My wife, I need her cell phone records. I need her text messages, her contacts, all of it.”
Benicio hums, then I hear a woman’s voice in the background. There’s some rustling before his deep voice murmurs. “Go on, Nicci. I’m on the phone. It’s business, babe.”
“Nicola Ricci?” I ask. My eyes glance at the clock on my dash and I grin. “At eleven o’clock at night, pray-tell what are you doing together so late, my friend?”
“None of your business, Zanetti,” he growls.
“Touchy, touchy.”
I laugh at my own words while he grunts on the other end of the line. Everyone knows that Benicio and Nicola Ricci have some kind of unresolved past. What exactly, is a mystery, even to me.
I remember Nic as a kid, she was younger than me and Luci. She was shy but very sweet, and then one day she just stopped coming around when we would have family get-togethers.
Shortly after that, Antonio Rossi became fucking unhinged and the family get-togethers ended altogether, so I never really saw much of her again. I doubt that she’s changed. I find it hard to imagine the hardened Benicio and the sweet, gentle creature that is Nicola Ricci, together.
“You want the full digital workup on the wifey?” he asks, shifting the subject back to me.
“I do. She’s hiding something and I think that I know what it is, but I need proof. I also need her personal bank records.”
“This will cost you,” he states.
Turning my car down Chloe’s street, I find a spot right in front and kill my engine after I’ve parked. “I have no doubt. You can bill me or I can owe you a marker. It’s up to you, Benny.”
Becoming his Mistress: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel Page 16