CATERINA
Is it possible to feel like you’ve been hit when nobody laid a hand on you? The pain in my gut, the way all the air leaves my lungs at once. It’s like she punched or kicked me. It physically hurts, and yet she hasn’t laid a single hand on me.
“You fucking bitch.” Gianni gets up, still naked, dragging one of the sheets with him and wrapping it around his waist. “This is your last warning. Get out of my fucking house before I fucking kill you.”
Sure, that’s exactly the kind of thing he would say. That’s who he
But it’s wrong. It is not the response I needed to hear.
He didn’t deny what she said. He didn’t deny still being married.
He didn’t deny it.
“From the look on her face, I’m going to assume she didn’t know? Amalia–nobody has to introduce us–laughs in my face when all I can do is try to stay calm and keep the last shredding pieces of my dignity. “I bet he calls me his ex, doesn’t he?”
“Caterina, don’t listen to her,” Gianni growls.
“Why? You don’t want your little fuck buddy knowing the truth? You can try to hide the truth from her as long as you want, but it always comes out” She folds her arms across her chest and smiles. Smug, superior.
Gianni’s chest heaves with every ragged breath. “I’m going to give you to the count of three to leave this fucking room
“Stop with your threats and bullshit.” She whirls on him and jabs long, red nail against his bare chest. “By the way, nice job, sending somebody to spy on me. Was there a point? Or are you trying to blackmail me into signing the papers? Did you honestly think that would work? You’re supposed to be this master manipulator, and you’ve been duped at your own game.”
He slaps her hand away, baring his teeth in a snarl. “Don’t you fucking touch me, you diseased cunt. How’s your friend Luciano by the way?”
Her face turns ghostly white, and she falls back a step. “What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what the fuck I’m talking about.‘
I can’t take any more of this. It’s killing me. “Stop!”
It’s like he forgot I was here. His eyes widen when he turns to me. “You should go to your room and get dressed,” he mutters. Let me handle this.”
“Is it true?” Because I need to know. There’s a free–for–all going on in my head right now–screaming, panic. my thoughts racing in a hundred different directions. At the center of everything is that one single question. The one I need answered before t can move in any direction.
“Tell her the truth,” Amalia murmurs, barely fighting back a grin as she tosses her hair again and sends its fragrance my way. Did I ever sign those divorce papers? Or have you been breaking your back for ages, trying to force me into it?”
It’s so strange, the look on his face. Like he’s fighting between rage and helplessness. I’ve never seen him look so broken. “L. look,” he murmurs to me. “Please, Caterina. You have to believe me. She’s nothing, no one.”
“Were you ever going to tell me you’re still married?” I don’t care she’s witnessing this. What’s the use of being ashamed? I’m already sitting here naked, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. Why not let her watch my heart break a little more? Everything’s better with an audience, right?
“Of course I was, but the idea was to get the papers signed first” He snarls at her, forcing her back another step. “Any decent person would have signed them way before now. But enough is never enough. You always want more. I can’t believe you have the nerve to pretend you give a shit about your daughter when all wanted was an excuse to barge in here and fuck with my life a little more.”
“This is all so touching.” She sighs, fluttering her thick lashes. “Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you love this girl, and that I should sign the divorce papers so the two of you can be happy together. Isn’t that right?”
“Considering I know what you’ve done, you are treading on very thin ice,” he warns. “My guy saw you together, you and that kid. Were you the one who came up with the idea to run her down? He jerks a thumb in my direction without looking at me.
That’s what does it. Listening to him talk so casually about the trana I went through–and revealing he knew more about it than he let on. He can’t expect me to trust him after this. The lies are piling up between us. Amalia and Luciano? How would she even know who he is?
Was. Past tense.
37.1
Before my brain can completely melt, I scramble out of bed, still wrapped in a blanket, and take off running. My feet slap against the hardwood as I race past the guards. I don’t look at their faces. can’t. I’m too ashamed. This is something I want to end. He wants me to go to my room and get dressed? That’s what I’ll do because I will not sit around and watch my life crumble to pieces.
Lies. So many lies. About him, about her, about their marriage. Now he’s making it sound like she had something to do with Luciano coming apart like he did. Whether or not that’s true, he could’ve told me.He should have told me.If Luciano needed help, I could have reached out to his parents. I could’ve done something
In the end, it’s all about him. What he wants, who he wants. There was, telling him I’d have his baby, and he held all these secrets in his hand.
It will never get better. I feel the truth of it in my soul. He will never stop being who he is. Loving him isn’t enough. Nothing ever will be because nothing will change who he is at his core. Secretive and manipulative. Violent and dangerous. The lengths he’ll go to get what he wants are never–ending. At least I’m seeing it now and not when it’s too late.
The desire to wake Tatiana in the bedroom next door and tell her what happened consumes me, but there’s no time. I’ll have to do it later. After I’ve gone to Dad’s, which is the only place 1 can go now. It’s the only place I want to be because at least there I’ll have somebody who really loves me, who doesn’t lie and use.
Stupid. I’m so stupid.I was so desperate for love after years of being treated like I wasn’t important that I looked the other way over and over, first with Luciano and now with Gianni. I can barely see with the tears by the time I reach the bedroom and lock
the door.
My heart is going to burst out of my chest. The pain is so intense it scares me. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. Getting out of here is my only hope. I need to do this for myself.
Even though I love him. He turned me into the other woman, and I still love him. I’m just as fucked up as he is. No wonder I was always drawn to him.
ew things back in Tatiana’s are right now. Nothing
Once again, I pack my things, this time taking every last item that belongs to me. I might have Ir room before I moved my stuff out for her return, but she’ll get it back to me eventually. I don’t ev. matters more than putting this behind me. Living with an overbearing parent sounds like heaven after what I’ve gone through.
He made me into the girl I didn’t want to be. Stupid, naive, so easily led on. I never thought to question whether their divorce was final Tatiana never mentioned it. Why didn’t 1 ask? Would he have told the truth if I had?
I know the answer, and it makes my molars grind together even as heave with sobs. Stupid, stupid girl. My little crush ruined my life.
Not just mine. Luciano’s might have been ruined, too. Like we were both pawns.
Another broken sob bursts out of me, and it’s almost enough to make me crumple on the bed. I’m exhausted, body and soul. Just a little longer. I only need to put up with this a little longer unt I’m home. Then I capety for days if I need to.
No. I go back to work tomorrow. Somehow, I have to pull myself together. Maybe that’s for the best. I need something to take my mind off of all of this.
There I was, imagining our future.
And he did this to me. I’ll never forgive him, just like I’ll never forgive myself.
Instead of trying to sneak out once everything’s packed up, and I put on shorts and a tee that don’t ever go together, thing the door open and march down the hall. I still hear voices shouting somewhere else in the house, the sound bouncing off hardwoods and high ceilings.
He’s still fighting with her, distracted. That’s one good thing that come out of this.
-25 BONUS
Because I’m not sure I’d be strong enough to leave if he found me right now. I know he’d talk me out of it. I should thank her for setting this up. The thought makes me laugh–high–pitched, shrillas 1 jog through the front door and out into the courtyard, Her car must be the bright red Bugatti. It’s completely vulgar, just be her.
I don’t care. Let them have each other. I only feel sorry for Tatiana, with a pair of fucked up parents who only want to hurt each other. I wonder if I was just another way for him to hurt her. A chess piece in an endless game.
No, I’m not going to do that to myself. And even if it’s true, what’s the difference? It’s over now. It should never have started.
I climb into my car and toss all my stuff onto the passenger seat. My hands are shaking, and it takes me a second to get the keys in the ignition. The headlights from the car shine bright in the distance. My heart breaks a little more as I drive down the driveway.
I need to calm myself down before I get home because I know Dad’s going to ask a million questions if I stay this distressed. Maybe I’ll tell him I had a fight with the imaghiary friend I was staying with, something simple. He’ll pat me on the head and tell me everything will be okay in the morning, and I’ll pretend I believe him. Whatever works.
Anything, so long as he never finds out the truth. I couldn’t bear his disappointment.
And as much as I loathe Gianni now, the thought of my father doing anything to punish him for hurting me is one I can’t handle. I won’t be the vindictive, scorned woman. I won’t let Gianni drag ice that far down.
It’s around nine o’clock by the time I pull to a stop in front of the modest house I grew up in. It was the best we could afford. Mom would have liked something bigger, but when he was demoted from detective lieutenant to a regular detective, it meant taking a pay cut.
I can do this. That’s what I have to keep telling myself as I pull my things from the car and carry them up the front steps onto the creaking porch.I can do this. I’ve gotten better at lying to Dad, haven’t I? Not exactly something to be proud of, but it’s what I need to fall back on now.
The lights are on in the living room, and I can hear the TV blaring inside as I fish out my key. “It’s just me!” I call out in a fake, cheerful voice as I open the door. You don’t want to burst in on a detective who keeps a gun in the house. That’s a good way to get shot.
wwer the volume. “Do you He’s not in the living room, where a ball game is down to the final inning. I grab for the remot need a hearing aid?” I ask the empty room. There is a trio of empty beer bottles on the end table next to his favorite chair, but that’s the only evidence of him having sat there.
“Hello?” His car was in the driveway. He could’ve walked down to the corner store. That would explain the blaring TV, a technique to convince would–be intruders there’s somebody home “Dad? Are you here?”
I cast a look further back into the house, past the dark dining room that never gets used anymore. The kitchen sink is visible from here, and it’s piled high with dirty dishes. There are more bottles on the counter, too, and a stack of filthy pans.
“What the hell has been going on around here?” The quiet house offers up no answers. I don’t know if I should start cleaning or look for him first.
A soft tud from overhead decides for me. “Dad?” 1 creep toward the foot of the stairs and wrap my hand around the carved post “You
up
there?” Only now does it hit me that there could be an intruder in the house.
Goosebumps pebble my skin, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up while I wrestle with the choice of going up the stain or ruining out the door.
Running seems to be the way to go, but a voice coming from upstairs stops me before I take off. “Honey? Is that you?”
It’s my father, but it isn’t. Itis familiar voice is thick, slurred. How any of those bottles has he emptied tonight? My heart’s in my throat as I hurry up the stairs, dreading what I’ll find,
His bedroom door is open, and before I’ve entered the room, I can see the pictures spread out over the double bed he once shared with my mom. Sometimes, he likes to reminisce.
nut it’s not like him to get drunk before he does, and that sink did fill up oversight He could’ve been spiraling all this time
UMBUS
while I was too busy screwing up my life to notice. I always think of him as having everything together.
A look at the bedroom tells me otherwise. There are dirty clothes all over the place and a layer of dust covering the dresser. The bed is messy, and there are more of those empty bottles on both nightstands and on the floor beside my dad, who’s on his knees in front of an open box.
“Just the girl I wanted to see” He raises a bottle to me and narrows his bloodshot eyes like he’s trying to bring me into focus.” You deserve to be here to celebrate with me.”
“What are we celebrating?” His clothes are rumpled he might’ve slept in them, judging by the looks. His normally clean- shaven face is covered in dark stubble, and his hair is a mess. A clump falls over his forehead when he looks down into the box.
Wedding photos. A quick search of my memory tells me it’s not their anniversary or Mom’s birthday.
“The most beautiful girl in the world.” He picks up one of my favorites, a shot of the two of them walking down the aisle after the ceremony. “I’m telling you, when I saw her coming toward me on your grandpa’s arm, my heart damn near burst.”
He’s beaming in the picture, and Mom is radiant in her full–skirted princess dress. I always planned on wearing it for my wedding someday.
“She could’ve been a model,” I muse, kneeling beside him. God, he reeks of beer and sweat, the complete opposite of the joyful young man in the photo. This isn’t like him. What don’t I know about?
“She could have done anything, but she married me. A damn cop.” He runs his thumb over her cheek before a tear drips from his chin onto the photo. I quickly wipe it away.
“What’s happening, Dad? What are you celebrating?” And if it’s a celebration, why is he crying?
I reach over and move the empty bottles on the floor before he can knock them over as he stumbles his way to standing. “I forgot to tell you. I finally did it.” I don’t know where he thought he was going since he plops down on the bed with a thud. “Did what?” I’m quick to gather up the things on the bed before he passes out on them. More photos. A baby blanket of mine.
“Found what I’ve been searching for all this time. I knew I would. The evidence… it had to be onere_.”
He’s swaying and his head is drooping “Why don’t you get some rest? W the unmade bed and pull the flower–print blankets over him.
can talk more in the morning.” Lease him back onto
He looks up at me, squinting as he rests his head on the pillow. “I did it. I promised her, and I did it.”
“Did what, Dad?”
“I finally found the evidence. I always knew he did it, and now I can pin it on him”
“Pin what?” I ask gently.
“Your mom’s murder.”
My blood runs cold and a chill sweeps down my neck. “Mom’s murder?” He’d always claimed she was killed in a drive–by, a random case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I’ve never heard him use the word murder before.
“I knew he did it. Everybody knew… I was after him…
“Who, Dad?” I whisper.
eyes close as he mutters, “The only logical answer…”
His eyes flutter open and meet mine “Gianni Rossetti. He murders your mom. I finally have proof.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
