Breathe.
I exhale, trying to let go of the anger and anxiety. When I’ve settled down…well, a little…I get up again and go back to wandering the neighborhood to clear my head.
Eventually, I happen upon a super-cute bookstore-slash-cafe. And for the next two hours, that’s where I hole up: nose in a Bastian Pierce book as I drain not one but two coconut milk chai lattes and polish off a big-ass chocolate chip cookie for lunch that Madame K. would definitely not approve of but fuck it.
Finally, I realize it’s time to face the music. Or at least go home and sulk. I pay for my book, slip it into the front pocket of my hoodie, and head back to the brownstone.
I’m just about to open the little black iron gate and head up the walkway to the steps when the big front door opens.
I pause, puzzled when I hear a woman laugh and step outside, closing the door behind her. She turns, and I stiffen.
I’ve seen her before. At the engagement party. She was the “family friend” I walked in on talking very closely with Kratos.
Too closely.
Bitterness swells inside of me. Slowly, my eyes focus on her.
My chest tightens and my stomach drops.
She smirks at me as she finishes doing up the top few buttons on her blouse. Her brow cocks as she brings up a hand, smoothing down clearly messed-up hair.
A cold, stabbing sensation slices into my heart.
“Why hello again,” the woman purrs, smiling with all the warmth of a blizzard.
She walks down the front steps of the brownstone, tucking her wild hair back into place. She gets closer, and my gaze slides to her mouth.
Her lipstick is smudged.
The blouse is still half untucked from her skirt.
Oh my God…
“I—”
“You’re the little wifelet, yes,” she drawls in a bored tone. “We didn’t get a chance to speak properly before.”
I feel sick as she extends a hand. I can’t move. I just stare at it blankly before she laughs quietly and retracts it.
“Amaya, remember?” she says offhandedly. “Anyway, so nice to see you again.”
Her hand comes up, and she giggles as she wipes her thumb across the smudge of lipstick right beneath her bottom lip.
“Oopsie,” she smiles.
My stomach heaves.
“Now, word of warning.” She turns, nodding her chin up at the house. “I know he’s got a short recovery period. But he still might need a minute before you take your turn.”
I physically gag, my face going white as my heart wrenches inside my chest.
Amaya grins. “So nice to see you again, Bianca. Ciao.”
I’m still numb as she pushes past me and walks on sky-high heels to a sleek black car parked at the curb. She gets in, revving the engine and turning to wave her fingers at me with a cruel smirk before she drives away.
I turn, and I run.
22
BIANCA
Music blares around me as the alcohol courses through my veins. The pounding pulse of the club beats in time with anarchy swirling in my heart as I close my eyes, toss my hair back, and throw my arms in the air, losing myself in the music.
Fuck. Him.
We’ve had one text exchange since I ran from the brownstone.
Kratos
You’ve been gone a while.
Me
I’m going out with friends tonight. Don’t wait up
Kratos
Ok.
