Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
The sight of an unfamiliar car in the wide driveway puts that out of my head in an instant. My breath catches, and my heart pounds. I’m ready to run, terrified, all because of a black car I don’t recognize. A man stands beside it, and he casts a cold, hard look at the car I’m sitting in as Paolo pulls up beside him.
“Who is that?” I whisper, trembling, staring out through the tinted window. Why don’t I carry a weapon? It never occurred to me to carry one. I’d feel a lot better if there was a pistol in my backpack.
Paolo grunts, the way he’s done all day. “It doesn’t concern you.”
This asshole. “Considering I live here with my husband, I think it does concern me,” I mutter, glaring at the back of his head. He doesn’t even bother looking back at me. I don’t even deserve that much.
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he adds, sullen, almost unwilling.
I want to believe him, but I’d rather see for myself. I get out of the car and give the stranger a chilly look while he sizes me up silently. Finally, he nods in acknowledgment but doesn’t say a word. I’m so glad I’m met with his approval, whoever he is.
I wasn’t looking forward to getting home, but now I want more than anything to be inside, away from whatever is going on. Why would Enzo bother telling me we were having guests? I don’t matter. I’m just an incubator for his future child.
With that in mind, all I want is to go up to my room and be alone. No matter what Enzo thinks, I do have work to do. He might not want me to go full-time, but I’m not going to give up on everything I ever wanted for him. He can’t control every part of my life.
I’m at the door when it swings open, and it isn’t only Enzo standing there. I fall back a step in mute surprise at the sight of an absolutely stunning woman—tall, willowy, dressed in a black suit. Her dark hair is wound into a thick bun at the nape of her neck, and her wide eyes are focused squarely on him as she leans in to kiss him on the cheek. “I’ll be in touch,” she murmurs in a voice full of intimacy and familiarity.
Who the hell is this bitch, and why did she just kiss my husband?
Enzo glances my way, his eyes widening a fraction like he’s just noticing me, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even bother introducing me. I may as well not be here.
As for her, whoever she is, she doesn’t so much as acknowledge me as she glides away in a pair of stilettos that click along the pathway. I follow her with my gaze the way a pair of guards follow in her footsteps, watching as she slides smoothly into the back seat of that strange car. The scent of her perfume lingers in the air long after she’s gone.
“Who was that?” I whisper, staring as the car pulls away.
“Don’t worry about it. She’s no one you need to be interested in.” Enzo steps aside. “Well? Are you coming in?”
All at once, I feel like I’m lacking. Less than. I’m nothing compared to her, whoever she is. She’s graceful, classy, and confident. And she clearly has him captivated.
“You might want to get that.” I rub a thumb over my cheek as I step into the house, indicating the smudge of lipstick he now wears on his.
“Thanks.” He’s chuckling as he pulls a handkerchief from his breast pocket and swipes it over the mark.
And that’s it. That’s all the explanation I get. He walks past me, heading for his study, I guess. Meanwhile, that perfume still lingers all through the downstairs. I want nothing more than to open the windows to air the place out, but it’s humid and verging on rain, so I’d probably regret it. He’d want to know why I was doing it, too, and probably accuse me of trying to run away.
Now I wish I had clawed her eyes out, even though I don’t know who she is, and I am very well aware of the fact that she had guards. I might have at least been able to scratch her a little before they got to me. I don’t even know why I care so much—if anything, that only makes me angrier. I head straight for the kitchen and grab a cold bottle of water from the fridge, touching it to the back of my neck and my forehead before opening it and taking a long gulp. It does nothing to cool off the heat burning me up inside. Some strange woman was in my house—it might not technically be mine, but I do live here. And I’m not allowed to know who she was.