Page 121 of Filthy Little Games

“It’s what my father wanted for her. It was his last request in his…note.”

“Really?” Dre sounds shocked, as if he wasn’t the one who typed the damn words.

“My father said he wanted the wedding to happen by the end of the year, so we’re moving forward, making plans off the ones he started.”

The way he says “making plans” sounds a little ominous before he slaps Dre’s shoulder and walks out.

When we’re alone, Dre turns to me. “What the hell do you think that means?”

“I think it means you’re still marrying the woman you’re obsessed with, and I think I know why.”

“Why?”

“Because the Rovinas still suspect us, but are playing it cool, waiting like we’re doing with Bowen, pretending everything isperfectly fine and we’re not about to have a bloody massacre in the streets of Manhattan.”

“Fuck,” Dre mutters while rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s never going to let me touch her now.”

“Probably not,” I agree, then feel like a dick for being glad that I’m not the only one who will be pining for a woman he can’t have.

38

Zara

Creed is such a piece of shit.

I can’t believe that after everything we’ve been through, he didn’t even say goodbye to me.

Not a word, a kiss, or a hug.

The first contact I had from him after three long weeks was the damn divorce papers I received by courier this morning. Oh, and how could I forget the box that came with it that had a professional digital camera inside, like it was supposed to be some sort of parting gift.

I guess Creed was just glad to finally be rid of me and all my baggage. Ever since I came into his life that night at the club, things have been fucked up.

But I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger when he killed Izaiah.

I didn’t ask him to orchestrate Emilio’s death either, even if I’mrelieved that him and his son are dead and can’t touch me or Oriana ever again.

Emilio was never a good father to her, but he did make sure she had everything she needed, along with protection. I doubt the man loved her, but he considered her his property, so he did what he could to keep her safe.

I should be happy that I get to raise Oriana outside of the busy city. But the estate Creed set up for us is ridiculous. I knew it would take weeks, maybe even months, for us to secure employment and find a place of our own, possibly a three-bedroom home with two bathrooms. That would have been a dream come true while living in Italy, since we missed the boat to Portugal, and starting over.

But where did Creed’s instructions left with Marino’s men lead us? To the Umbrian countryside that includes two houses, eight bedrooms, eleven bathrooms, a badminton court, and not one but two freaking swimming pools.

Every morning I wake, it’s like we’re living on a movie set too perfect to be real.

The main villa was an 18th-century farmhouse that was restored several years ago. But that’s not where we stay. The four of us have been just fine, living together in what was formerly the stables with three bedrooms and five bathrooms, which is more than enough.

“How are you doing?” Paige asks when she sits on the pool steps next to me.

“I’m great. She loves to swim.” I smile, nodding to my adorable girl, splashing with her pink arm floats in the shallow end. I’ve spent the past three hours swimming with her and am beat. I don’t know how the little princess has any energy left.

“Are you really great?”

“Yes. Mostly. Honestly, I’ve never been anywhere except NewYork City, so it’s nice to get to live someplace new, to see more of the world, free to come and go as I please.”

“But?”

“But what?” I glance over to ask Paige.

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