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“Please, Vivian, go home,” I mutter.
She laughs. “My family and yours have a long-standing partnership. Rejecting me threatens that, don’t you think?” she asks.
I turn to her, finally fed up. “You’re back because you saw he wasn’t worth it, aren’t you?” I say.
She fights to keep a straight face. “What are you talking about?”
“The rando you left me for.” I inhale. “You think I didn’t look into it? I have eyes all over the city. Vivian. There are pictures of both of you in hotels and malls.”
She swallows and looks away.
I sigh. “Go home, Vivian, and don’t come here anymore. I’ll visit your family if there is ever a need to,” I say.
“I—I love you, Antonio,” she whispers with tears in her eyes as I walk away.
I know she does love me. But she is a Montgomery, and like the Russos, they hate losing. As I walk back into the house, I meet Donatello and Bunny who were watching us.
I turn to Bunny. “You’re pushing it,” I say to him.
He feigns surprise. “Why are you so grumpy, brother? I only invited my almost sister-in-law for a visit.”
Donatello sighs. “You just had to put on a show, didn’t you?” he tells me.
“Bringing that woman into the house is a horrible idea, brother,” he says.
“I mean, he can handle it, can’t he?” Bunny says caustically.
“Watch it,” Donatello shoots at him.
“She’s my wife. Why wouldn’t she be allowed to roam the house?” I ask quietly.
Donatello’s eyes narrow in disbelief.
“What are you on about?” he asks.
“You wouldn’t have your wife locked up in a dark room, would you?” I say casually.
Donatello’s face hardens.
“Donatello, take over my meeting at the club tonight and report back to me. Bunny, you’re on patrol,” I say.
“Why do I have to be on patrol? I should be like ‘Tello and get to go to the meeting,” Bunny asks.
I turn to Donatello. “Good luck with your first meeting. If Bunny doesn’t clock in to patrol, have him locked up in the basement.”
Bunny’s face crinkles in rage, and Donatello mumbles, asking how long we will keep fighting.
I turn and make my way to the person I want to see.
I storm into her room to see her by the windows looking outside.
She turns to me with a smile as I walk in.
“I thought it was taking you too long to come back to me,” she says.
She has changed from the dress she had on in the hallway. Now, she is clad in only a white T-shirt that stops way above her knees. And her long hair hangs just below the shirt. It looks like a river of reddish-brown silk that shimmers even in the low light in the room.
The white T-shirt is made of transparent material that shows her nipples aroused and poking out.
