Page 13 of Bad Husband

“You listened to me.”

It might have appeared that he was listening to Angelo, but he had no intention of killing her. There might have been a brief moment, but it wasn’t one he was going to follow through on. He felt he’d been betrayed. All her promises and personality, fake and lies. He’d been wrong, and the evidence of that was still on his cell phone, and the people responsible were downstairs.

Before going to get Chiara, he’d already taken care of the man who doctored the video. Paulie had been able to help identify who it was, as he left a telltale signature he’d never noticed in the corner of the screen, like an artist signing his work.

He’d believed it, and within seconds, Paulie recognized it to be fake, which pissed him off. If he’d been calmer and considered who he was dealing with, he would never have accused his wife.

Chiara had been true, she’d been pure, and she didn’t like lying. It was why he had a horrible feeling when it came to her request. She wasn’t making some flippant demand. Chiara must have thought long and hard about what she wanted. She knew something would come out that would free her name. It had, and now he was dealing with the consequences.

“Regardless of what happened, if you listened to me or not, Chiara is here now, and there’s no way we can let her go. You cannot be seriously thinking of letting her ... free?”

Marco sighed and ran a hand down his face. “This is serious.”

“I know. A Bove Mafia wife out in the open would be a disaster. Enemies would flock to her.”

“Not if we consider giving her what she wants,” Marco said.

“You’re happy to divorce her? Let her go?”

He wasn’t happy with it, but he already hurt her, and there was no chance he wanted to be responsible for doing this again. Angelo stared at him, and Marco stared right back.

His father-in-law let out a grunt. “You’re not thinking clearly, and I do not have time for any of this.” There was another glare. “I’m going to bed, and then we can deal with this nonsense in the morning.” He finished his scotch, then left the room, leaving him alone.

Marco looked down at the dark amber liquid in his glass. It felt good having Chiara in his home once again. She would fill it with laughter, or at least she used to.

He’d taken a moment to let her catch up with her father, but he’d also done so, in hope of seeing that smile on her face, even if it wasn’t directed at him. Even her father hadn’t been able to get her to smile. It was hopeless.

He moved toward the sofa and took a seat, along with another sip of his scotch. It tasted good, but it didn’t help him clear his mind, or figure out what he needed to do. He was so fucking tired from driving. The day had been long, and now, it felt like a lifetime already had passed since he’d last been with Chiara.

He messed everything up. He reacted rather than thought about what he’d seen. There were so many regrets eating away at him. Time ticked by, and he finished his scotch, getting to his feet, and he grabbed Angelo’s glass, making his way to the kitchen. That was where he saw Chiara, standing at the kitchen sink, a glass of water in hand.

“I’m just having a drink of water,” she said.

She’s changed into a pair of shorts and a crop top. It was a pair he remembered so well, as the sight of them immediately went straight to his cock. They were a little on the large size now, but he stared down the length of her body. It had been an eternity since he last saw her like this, and he missed her.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t help but close the distance, and when he reached for her, Chiara pulled away.

She stepped right out of arm’s reach. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m not here for that,” Chiara said.

“Fuck, Chiara, I said I was sorry,” he said. “What more do you want?”

She threw the glass of water at him. “You said you were sorry? I told you I was innocent. I begged and pleaded with you, and while those men were ... hurting me, slapping me, punching me, trying to get something out of me, I begged for you. I screamed for you to come and save me, and guess what, you never did. You didn’t come for me, and you pointed a gun straight at my head. You pointed it, and I saw the look in your eye. You were going to shoot me in the head. Then, you banished me. Without my identity. Without a way to survive. You did it all on purpose, and you think a sorry is going to cut it? You seriously believe that? I’m many things, Marco, but a simpering doormat is not fucking one of them.”

She stepped around him. “You and I,” she said, “we were done the moment you believed I was capable of betraying you.” That was her parting shot, and he stood, running a hand down his face, and he felt completely and totally deflated.

He’d brought this on himself, and he knew there was no way out. It was over, but there was no way he was going to be able to live without her. He didn’t know how. The past six months had been utter torture. That was why he didn’t want to know where she was, and also, the two men that dumped her were dead. He’d killed them, so the knowledge of her whereabouts would remain hidden, and no one would ever be able to find her.

He did try to protect her, in his own way.

****

The following morning, Chiara was exhausted. She didn’t sleep a wink the night before. Being back in her old home brought back so many memories—good and bad. She didn’t want to remember the good memories. They were in the past, and they were not going to change her decision. There was no way she could cave to Marco just because he’d clicked his fingers and decided she was innocent.

At exactly five in the morning, she rolled over, checked the clock, and decided there was no point lolling about in bed. She might as well get up, seeing as this was the time she usually got up anyway. She took a quick shower and changed into jeans and a t-shirt

There were several items in the wardrobe, but she wasn’t interested in dressing like she did in her old life. That was in the past, and she was not going back. She intended to move forward.

Chiara made sure her descent downstairs was quiet as she didn’t want to bump into her father, or her husband, and she made her way toward the basement door and just stared at it. Down there were the two people responsible for making her life hell, and the irony was, after she learned to survive, she actually loved her life. She wasn’t being spiteful to Marco. She wasn’t trying to make him suffer, far from it. She actually, honestly loved her life. The trailer was small, manageable, easy for her to live in and keep clean. She liked doing things for herself, and it gave her that sense of independence she wanted. Her own life. Away from the Bove Mafia. She didn’t even realize how freeing being banished would be. Gabrielle had actually given her a gift. It was ironic.