“She… had her memory jogged,” I said vaguely, pinching the bridge of my nose. “And she figured out I’d been stalking her. Maybe she was a bit embarrassed because I saw something.” Thatsomethingbeing Penelope pleasuring herself, but I wouldn’t sharethatwith my brother.
He cleared his throat.
“I hate to sayI told you so, but I told you so, brother. Women only like that shit in books. You have to do sweet shit, wine and dine her, not take away her independence and trap her.”
“For fuck’s sake, just help me,” I bellowed, despair clawing at my chest. “I can’t lose her.”
“Give me five.”
And then he hung up. I lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke into my lungs, while my mind conjured all the things that could have happened to her. Fuck, what was taking Amadeo so long?
My phone rang and I picked up immediately, extinguishing the cigarette.
“She went back to Sicily,” Amadeo said, and I sagged with relief. “I don’t have eyes on her, but my sources confirmed she landed in Palermo.”
“Thank you.”
“Sure thing. Want me to come with you?”
“No.”
The line went quiet, but I knew my brother well enough to know he wanted to say something else.
“Just spit it out, Amadeo.”
He sighed. “Is she worth all this?”
“Absolutely.” I didn’t need to think about the answer. When you knew, you fucking knew.
“Just be careful, okay?”
“Will do. And, Amadeo?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you again.”
23
PENELOPE
“But, Mama—” I started to protest, but she held up a hand to silence me, leaving me to contend with her common sense.
When I arrived, Amara was still asleep and Papà and my brothers were gone, likely in town for the festive celebrations—with the New Year around the corner, there were events scheduled every day.
The two of us were in the living room, where she was seated having her morning tea while I paced around like a caged animal.
“Sweetheart, you know I’ll always take your side in matters that concern your safety,” Mama stated patiently. “However, I honestly don’t understand why you left Enzo. He didn’t yell at you, right?” I shook my head. “Did he hit you?” I shook my head again. “Did he threaten you?”
“Well, it depends?—”
“Sweetie, it’s a yes or no.”
I sighed. “Then no.”
“Just tell me what happened and maybe I can help you see it with a fresh perspective,” she continued, patting a spot next to her. “Please stop pacing around. It’s making me dizzy.”
Why couldn’t she just take my side without this game of twenty questions? It wasn’t like I could share with her details ofeverythingthat’d happened. It would require that I disclose what I’d done two months ago. Namely, that I had a one-night stand with a complete stranger who turned out to be none other than my betrothed. Or the fact that I pleasured myself and then the stalker husband finished the deed for me so I’d orgasm.