Page 64 of Not Mine to Keep

One particular story kept buzzing through my thoughts from a tabloid I’d had a beef with since they’d botched the story of my sister’s murder years ago, and of course that was the one she found and started to read aloud.

“Does love at first sight exist?” she said under her breath. “Just ask billionaire playboy Alessandro Costa, who was swept away by schoolteacher Calliope Anderson, also rumored to be the daughter of Armani DiMaggio. Not familiar with that name? Well, get familiar. He allegedly runs the longest-lasting mafia group in Italian history.”

“People were bound to find out,” I said before she continued. I didn’t want to hear more, and neither would she. “But I didn’t expect Armani to have it leaked like this.” I should’ve expected it, though. He wanted to ensure the world knew my family was in an alliance with him. He’d even shared the photo of our one and only kiss from inside the church.

Without acknowledging she’d heard me, she continued swiping at the screen, probably flipping from one “breaking story” to the next.

“You have almost as many texts and missed calls as I do.” I spoke up after giving her what I’d felt was an adequate amount of time to spiral. “But none from your aunt. I did a quick check.”

She finally gave me her attention. “My aunt can’t find out. She’ll freak. Fly to Armani and threaten him. Possibly get herself killed.”

“We’ll get ahead of this. For her, at least, we will,” I reassured while trying to be cordial. Also, fuck that word. “Don’t worry.”

“I guess this is the one time I’m glad my aunt hates social media, is unlisted, distrusts all news sources, and didn’t sign up for theinternational phone plan while traveling. But ... what about my friends? Principal? They must’ve heard about this. With the time difference, we—”

“I noticed a voicemail from your boss. Well, I saw a voicemail notification from Principal Edwards on your phone when I got it back from Marcello.” I cleared my throat, uncomfortable to share more. “Among other messages.”

“Did you listen to any? Read them?” she asked, and I was seconds away from losing what little trust of hers I may have had.

“I might have looked at a few.” I had on jeans, so I couldn’t hide my hands in my pockets all that easily like when wearing a suit, so I crossed my arms at the increasingly awkward conversation. “I also listened to one message.”

“Broadway,” she whispered, as if now understanding my temper this morning. “You know.”

“I do, and you’re not going to Nashville.” The quicker I laid that out, the better. “And Braden needs to watch his tongue, before I cut it out. I don’t care if he’s a friend or a vet. You’re my wife, and the bullshit he said to you on the phone when he found out is—” I cut myself off, realizing I was the one who sounded off his rocker with jealousy right now, even worse than how Braden had come across in his voicemail.

“I’m sorry, but what?” She tossed the phone on the bed and mimicked my move, crossing her arms. It was hard to take her seriously in the dancing-bananas pajamas, but if I smiled, she might try and throw me out the window next. “You had no business looking through my messages.”

I stepped before her, needing to dip my chin to find her eyes. “No, maybe not. But you’re myjob. I’ll do what I have to in order to keep you safe and to complete the mission. So, no Nashville. No Braden.” I may have hit a new, all-time low in my voice that time, but I really hated that guy.

Her gaze moved to my hand, and I followed her eyes, realizing I’d never put my ring back on. I cursed and went to the nightstand and grabbed it. The thing felt like it weighed fifty pounds in my palm.

“I’m going to lose my teaching job. My life is in shambles because of this. I know it’s not your fault, and maybe you have a point about Broadway if it’s to keep me safe, but—”

“You don’t need the money.” I slipped on the ring and shook out my hand at my side.

“You think I teach for money? Thought we established my salary sucks last weekend.” She went back to her suitcase and grabbed something to wear, as if needing a distraction. “And no, I won’t take his blood money.”

“Then take mine. It’s clean,” I said, hating her defeated tone, preferring sassy over sad, because her being sad gutted me. When she shot me a look that said,Hell no, I added, “Does your school need a new library? Gym? I’ll build them a wing. Don’t worry, if you want to keep your job when this is over, I’ll make sure you do.”

“You can’t buy your way out of every problem.”

“Clearly, or we wouldn’t be married right now.” Another low blow from me. I was on a roll this morning. But we were about to head home. We’d be in my city, and I’d need to be this woman’s husband for three months. I had no clue how to navigate the situation. So I was on edge. “We need to go. Flight leaves soon.”

“Maybe I’m glad we can’t talk in the car or on the flight.” She strode by me with her clothes and started for the bathroom. “But I’m not letting Armani ruin my dreams when he’s already forcing me to live in this nightmare of a situation.” She stopped by the door to face me. “Since you think you can buy your way out of most problems, surely you can come up with a creative way to keep me safe when I go down there to perform.”

“Calliope,” I hissed.

“Callie,” she said softly. “It’s Callie again. You’re the one who doesn’t want to be friendly.”

Unable to stop myself, this foreign feeling of jealousy propelled me her way. “So just Braden gets to call my wife her given name? We’re back to that?”

Her nostrils flared as she met me halfway, ready to face off with me. “I’m not your wife. Not really.”

“Says God. Says the law you are.” I stabbed in the direction of the ground instead of the sky, which would’ve made more sense. But I was lacking the whole rational-thinking thing at the moment.

“Braden cares about me. You don’t. He’s a real friend, and you don’t want to be anything other than cordial with me. So yeah, he can call me Calliope, and you sure as hell can’t call me your anything.” The dig cut. Right below the skin. I was pretty sure she’d opened a not-so-old wound, and I was bleeding. “Well,” she said while letting go of a deep breath, “I suppose I’m one thing to you—your mission.”

“Right,” I gritted out.

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