Page 61 of Wretched Choices

A small family Italian restaurant with home-cooked food. It reminded me of my mama’s cooking, and I cried like a baby. He didn’t make fun of me or roll his eyes; he sat there and listened to me while I rambled about my mother and how great she was.

And now, with my bag packed, I’m waiting for him to fly back from the place I ran away from. The place that holds a noose around my neck. The place that killed all my trust and created a hatred toward my father and people like him, and all they represent.

People like Salvatore, that, even despite all my attempts to find something hateful about him except who he is, I couldn’t.

All I found were some articles that have no true value, in which he was represented as cold and emotionless. All of what was written there was the opposite of the man I’ve gotten to know.

I found out small things about him, like when he’s thinking, he plays with the pen in his hand or the cufflinks on his shirt. When we’re in bed, he plays with my hair while we talk. He always falls asleep last and wakes up first.

Since the day we married, he made sure breakfast and coffee were delivered before I woke up. And this last week, he made sure we ate breakfast and dinner together.

We shared funny stories and some sad ones too. Most importantly, we got to know each other on more than an intimate level.

I look at the time. Salvatore is late, and he is never late. Uneasiness spreads across my stomach, and I make a quick decision. I grab my bag and exit the suite. I greet Bastian, who has today’s shift. I enter the elevator code and press for the ground floor. As soon as the elevator arrives, I march toward his office, but before I can knock, I hear voices.

“…so what?”

“What kind of question is that? I told you before, I need this marriage to work. And infidelity is one of the things I despise most.”

“But you don’t care about her.”A high-pitched voice responds.

Salvatore’s angry tone roars behind the closed doors.“It doesn’t matter. She is my wife, our marriage is consummated, and I told you if that happens, we’re done.”

I frown, and with a glance to the side, I can see Bastian’s mouth twitching. Without a second thought, I turn the doorknob and push the door open.

Salvatore’s finance director, Ashley, and Salvatore, stand in the middle of his office, facing each other. They both turn toward me, and Salvatore’s expression turns from annoying to relaxed in a second. Is he grateful I interrupted?

I mask my confusion, and in true Isabel Roberts style, I enter Salvatore’s office, ignoring the blond, and state the obvious to Salvatore. “You’re late.”

“Sorry, mia cara. I was just finishing.” My heart skips for just a second at his endearment. I just got used to him calling me Bella. “Dante is already waiting. He will drive us.” With one glance at the blond, he says. “Think about what I said and the deal we had. If you decide differently, I will understand. No hard feelings. Let me know your decision when I return.”

With his hand on the small of my back, he steers me toward the exit, not waiting for her response.

During our drive, I didn’t mention what I overheard. I didn’t ask the meaning of what he said to the blond. I wanted to be tough and self-assured, but even after the plane took off, I was thinking about what I overheard.

At least, I chose to do that so I could distract myself from the fact that I’m flying back to Italy.

Since I’m nosy by nature and always want to know things, there is no way I’m going to let this slide.

I look at Salvatore, who is deep in some spreadsheet on his laptop, and decide I’m going to play twenty questions with him.

“What decision does the blond have to make?”

His eyes snap from the spreadsheet toward me. With a smirk on his face, he looks at his watch. “A whole two hours. Impressive.”

I scrunch my nose, confused. “What?”

“It took you two hours to ask. I was sure you would demand an answer before we exited the hotel, or at least in the car. I never expected that you would wait this long.”

I don’t know what to say to his remark. To say I’m also impressed is an understatement.

“What? Come on, Bella. I pay attention to small things. And what I learned about you in the last few weeks is that you would want to know what happened in that office.”

I huff. “Well, of course I want to know. What kind of wife would I be if I wasn’t interested? I overheard you before I entered.”

He chuckles and closes his laptop. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you. It is, after all, your area of expertise.” He leans in, resting his elbows on his knees. We’re only inches apart. “Snooping around, especially around that office. I see a pattern here. Last time you were almost spread across my desk. Almost.”

Heat spreads across my neck and cheeks, but I don’t let it distract me. “You wish I was. Is that why you used the excuse of searching me so you could touch me?”

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