Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
In my current condition it would be nice to know the man she loves is dead, but killing him will be showing weakness. The major reason I let Francesca go is to show strength and let her know I’m okay with her decision to be with Thomas. Sneaking behind her back to kill him is the biggest sign of weakness. I won’t stoop that low.
“No. We’re not killing him. He’s innocent.”
Vance sighs and moves away, leaving me to my thoughts again.
The alcohol has made me maudlin and I start to long for my wife. Francesca. My little pearl.
Who knew love could hurt this much? I slip my hand into my pocket and close it around the gold bracelet. I still carry it around even though the owner broke my heart. With the number of places this bracelet has followed me to, I consider it my lucky charm.
I should probably get rid of it soon because it reminds me too much of Francesca, which is the last thing I want. But for today, tomorrow, and probably the next, I will keep it.
“I think you need to leave New York,” Roberto says. “Perhaps a vacation.”
I sit up, my lips widening into a smile. “You’re right, Roberto. I need to get out of this oppressive house. I should have given it to her and found myself an apartment. I’m going to a club.” I get to my feet, and a wave of dizziness almost floors me. I stumble upright, blinking vigorously before regaining my balance.
“Let’s go,” Roberto says, and there is a tingle of weariness in his voice.
The club is teeming with people, and I’m hardly inside when a couple of ladies sidle up to me, their eyes seductively roaming my body. One of them is brave enough to touch my shoulder, and I put my arm around her, pulling her to me in one fluid move.
“What’s your name, pretty thing?” I whisper into her ear as she writhes against me in rhythm with the music.
“Alice.” She giggles, pressing closer and suddenly loops her arms around my neck. I freeze because it feels wrong. Completely and profoundly wrong. Francesca is my wife. I belong to her. I feel myself become suddenly sober.
Alice stares at me for a moment before fearfully sucking in a breath and hightailing it away from me. My body is full of anger at the liberty she took, and I’m sure she saw it reflected in my eyes. That's why she bolted.
“You’ve traumatized the poor thing for life,” Roberto says.
“Roberto.” I glance at him.
“Yeah?”
“I’m fucked.”
“What do you mean?” He frowns. “Is the alcohol starting to catch up with you? I knew you should have stopped ages ago.”
“Francesca.”
“Francesca?” he echoes, confused.
“Yes. I’m madly and irrevocably in love with her. My life is ruined.”
Chapter Fifty-One
FRANCESCA
FRANCESCA
Listlessly, I wheel my luggage out of baggage claim and head towards the arrivals hall as my eyes scan the crowd for Giuseppe’s face. Nonna Isadora told me that she would send him to the airport to pick me up when I arrived. There are many faces but no Giuseppe. I stop walking and reach into my bag for my phone.
When Nonna Isadora first invited me to come and stay with her for a while I refused. I was grieving for my lost child and the shocking and abrupt destruction of my relationship with Valentino. I was too brokenhearted to even think of travelling anywhere. Even though Mama and Louisa counselled me until they were blue in the face that I was not to blame. It was the attack that killed my baby. If not when they did it, one way or another they would have found another opportunity.
It was not my fault.
It was not my fault.
It was the attack.
They drummed it over and over into my head, but I couldn’t stop blaming myself. At night when I was alone the terrible accusatory thoughts returned. If only I had not felt the need to tell Thomas face to face that I knew he was a liar and had been lying to me all those years. If only I had been wise enough to know the satisfaction of seeing his face crumble was just not worth it and instead, I’d told him over the phone. If only I had not picked up the phone at all. If only… If only… If only…
I was driving myself mad with sorrow and regret. Alone, I tossed and turned. And when I finally fell into an exhausted sleep, I dreamed of Valentino carrying our baby. I dreamed of him laughing. In my dream he was happy, I was happy. Then I woke up and understood it was only a dream and sadness returned. There was no escape. And once again I was forced to confront what I had done.
Not only had I killed my baby, I had finally killed Valentino’s feelings for me. Whatever little shoots of feelings that had been growing in his heart I had killed them stone dead. The way he looked at me that time I went to his house…