Page 108 of Goldrage
Someday, when we’ve both found our way through this darkness, when the grief doesn’t choke us each second, I’ll give her something else to wear. Something that tells the world she’s mine and I’m hers.
I’ll give her a ring.
I dip my head to kiss her and she sighs against my lips.
We share another kiss and then both move toward the patio table where sandwiches and fruit have been waiting for us.
Just as we sit, a guard appears at the garden gate. “Mr. Mancini,” he calls out. “You have a visitor.”
Lorenzo’s face darkens as he sets Roby down. “Who?”
“That woman,” the guard says with clear distaste.
Irritation flickers through my numbness because I know exactly who he means. I’d hoped she’d have the sense to stay away, at least for now. At least while we’re grieving and trying to piece ourselves back together.
Lorenzo grumbles something in Italian and glances at me. “She won’t leave unless we deal with her.” I nod and he speaks to the guard. “Bring her in. Let’s get this over with.”
A few minutes later, Bianca sweeps onto the patio like she owns it, her heels clicking against stone. Shelooks different: harder somehow, like she’s finally grown a spine. My surprise doubles when her gaze lands on me and her pretty features twist with irritation.
Not hurt. Not longing.Irritation.
What a pleasant surprise.
Without a greeting, without acknowledging anyone else exists, she thrusts a manila envelope at my chest. “Here.”
Curious despite myself, I take it. The weight feels significant. Legal. I tear open the seal and pull out the papers, scanning the first page.
Divorce papers.
A very pleasant surprise.
“You treated me like furniture,” Bianca says, her voice pitched high with indignation. “Like some inconvenient obligation you could ignore. Well, I found someone who actually sees me. Who treats me the way I deserve. He’s amuchbetter man than you’ll ever be.”
I look up from the papers to study her face. There’s a manic gleam in her eyes, the desperate shine of someone who’s convinced themselves of their own lies. She’s already attached herself to some other man, probably someone who’ll give her the attention she craves until he realizes what waits beneath the pretty surface.
I feel a flicker of pity for whoever he is. But mostly, I feel relief.
To finally be able to move forward with Aurelia by my side is the hope I’ve been needing.
Lorenzo appears at my elbow with a pen before I can even ask. We share a look—his knowing smirk matchingthe faint smile tugging at my lips. It’s my first real smile in weeks.
I sign quickly, the way I’ve signed a thousand documents that meant far more than this sham ever did. Bianca snatches the papers from my hands the moment I finish.
She gives me a pointed look, then turns that same weighted stare on Aurelia. Some message passes between the women that I’m too tired to decode. Then she’s gone, storming off in a cloud of expensive perfume and wounded pride.
“Well.” Lorenzo claps my shoulder with enough force to make me sway. “This calls for celebration, no?”
The smile comes easier this time. Small, but real. “Why not?”
Lorenzo disappears inside and returns with wine. He pours generous glasses while Eleanora raises a curious eyebrow.
“To freedom,” Lorenzo toasts, lifting his glass.
“To family,” Eleanora adds, softer.
Aurelia and I remain silent, but toast just the same.
We drink, and the wine burns warm down my throat. Aurelia settles beside me on a patio chair, close enough that our thighs touch. I wrap an arm around her, pull her against my side where she fits like she was carved for this space.
