Chapter 2
That night, Sean "escorted" me back to the estate.
When I pushed open the door, the whole house had been transformed.
The minimalist table I'd picked out so carefully had been swapped for the ornate French carving Bianca liked. Dante's and my wedding portrait had been tossed in a corner, the glass shattered all over the floor.
Dario lounged on the sofa, idly turning a wine glass in his hand. He looked me over with the same contempt as always.
"Don't think taking a few bullets for me buys you a place in this house."
"While you were taking your clothes off for money, Bianca and Dante were already together."
"If that idiot hadn't fallen for your cheap tricks, you'd still be shaking your ass in some filthy club. You don't belong here, Nina."
Every single thing in this house, Dante and I had arranged together before we got married.
In the past, any time Dario tried to touch any of it, I'd go crazy and throw a vase at his head, screaming that this was my home and they were the ones who should leave.
Dario met my eyes. His pupils tightened and his muscles went tense, like he was bracing for the storm of my rage.
But I didn't say a word. I turned and walked to the guest room at the end of the hall.
It was like punching a pillow. Dario was so furious and humiliated that he kicked over a chair.
The housekeeper, Mrs. Davis, made up the room for me with practiced hands. She'd barely stepped out when Bianca came in holding a glass of hot milk.
"Nina, I'm sorry. I didn't know it was Dante with you today."
"I just missed Dario so much. You understand that feeling."
She leaned in close and lowered her voice so only the two of us could hear. A challenge.
"And I don't want to share a man's heart with you. You understand that feeling too."
Her hand tipped on purpose. The milk splashed across the rug, the glass shattered, and a flying shard sliced my ankle.
"Ah—!"
"Nina, If you didn't want it, I could have just taken it away. Why did you push me?"
She clutched her hand, on the verge of tears.
Dario stormed in at the noise and, without a word, slapped me hard across the face.
"I knew you were trash."
My head snapped to the side, and I found myself looking straight at Bianca, peeking out from behind him with a smug, triumphant smile.
Before he left, Dario pointed at me and snarled, "Just wait. I'll have Dante throw you out himself."
I gave a bitter smile. At this point, I'd welcome it.
In the middle of the night, the guest room door eased open. A man pressed up against my back, his warm breath on my neck.
"Nina, why are you so cold?"
His concern brought tears to my eyes, the way it always did.
Dante carefully lifted my foot onto his knee and tended to the cut.
"I heard about tonight. Bianca was only trying to be nice."
"Stop fighting with her. When I'm not around, you're the only one who'll get hurt."
Not just Dario. Even he believed I'd burned Bianca.
"What about our room? They ruined our room."
His hands didn't even pause. "Let them. Even if you put it back the way it was, they'll just wreck it again."
Something in my chest hollowed out. The man in front of me felt like a complete stranger.
"Just go."
He frowned, then pushed me down onto the bed, his kisses raining down over me.
"What's wrong with you today? Why are you so cold to me?"
In three years of marriage, we'd spent more time apart than together.
Every time he came home, I wanted to be glued to him twenty-four hours a day.
But now, he just disgusted me. My body recoiled from his touch on instinct.
Maybe, to him, I'd always been a woman who could be pacified in bed.
So the harder I fought, the harder he pushed.
In the struggle, my palm cracked across his face.
He finally stopped. His voice was impatient. "Nina! You've changed."
He got up and walked out of the room without looking back.
I lay there alone on the cold bed, tears sliding silently down my face.
My phone lit up. A text from the encrypted number.
Tomorrow, 6 p.m. The abandoned pier on the East Side.
I typed back one word: Okay.
This time, I wasn't looking back.
