Page 20 of Desire and Revenge

As a wife, as a lover, and as the mistress of this house.

I follow the suited guard into the house and to one of the smaller living rooms. Even from some distance, I can hear a mixture of voices coming from the room. I hear my husband’s laughter, and the cowardly thought of turning around and go back to my room because I’ll only ruin his happiness crosses my mind.

Steeling my spine, I walk into the room, and five pairs of eyes land on mine.

“Hello.” I force my mouth to curl up into a welcoming smile.

“Come on in!” A blonde woman who looks about my age jumps up to her feet and approaches me, a welcoming smile on her face.

The others remain stony-faced, including my husband, and I decide to keep my focus on the blonde. If memory serves me correctly, I think she’s Sebastian’s cousin.

“We didn’t get to introduce ourselves properly at the wedding, and what a shame, right? I’m Marisa, and you must remember Viviana,” she turns to the older woman by her side, “my sister. And then that’s Uncle Pietro and Cousin Rosa.”

“I remember everybody,” I lie and from the way Viviana’s mouth presses into a thin line, I can tell she doesn’t believe me. “Welcome to our home.”

“Our?” Pietro turns narrowed eyes on my husband. “I see she’s already made herself quite at home.”

“Don’t worry, Uncle.” When Sebastian’s eyes meet mine, I shiver at the look in his eyes. He is still pissed at me. “She knows her place.”

“As she should,” Viviana adds with a touch of sharpness. “It’s all too common for some women to forget where they belong and start overstepping?—”

Marisa interrupts with a light laugh. “Oh, stop it. She’s hardly a threat, so sweet and innocent.” I stare at her gratefully, and something in my chest starts to warm at her defense of me. Maybe Marisa and I can become friends, because right now, I feel so alone and isolated. It’s probably why I still continue to wait up for Nero in the greenhouse.

“Your taste in character has always been... interesting,” Rosa remarks with a knowing smirk. I turn my head to see her rubbing her swollen belly. “After all, didn’t you think Ivano was your prince charming?”

“Oh, shut it,” Marisa spits, and the two women stare each other down, tension crackling between them.

“Let bygones be bygones,” Pietro laughs, waving his hand in the air, but I have the feeling that the issue between the women is far from being just something from the past.

“Sebastian, darling,” Viviana gasps, her voice full of outrage. “Don’t you think your wife’s attire is a bit... underwhelming for meeting guests?”

My husband’s eyes drift over to me, but he merely shrugs.

At that moment, a dark shadow fills the door, and my eyes are immediately drawn to the newcomer. Nero is in a dark navy t-shirt and fitted black jeans—the very picture of a man who doesn’t care for rules.

“Castello,” the older man lets out a booming laugh. “I thought someone was having fun at my expense when they told me you showed up at the wedding.”

“Pietro,” he nods and then walks into the room, settling on a single couch a little bit apart from us. “You haven’t aged a day.”

I use the opportunity to study the expressions of the women. While Marisa looks shocked, Viviana is trying too hard to maintain a blank expression, and Rosa looks calculative.

“You still prefer that rugged look, I see,” Viviana chides with a hint of disapproval. “It’s a wonder anyone takes you seriously.”

“And on the matter of dressing,” Rosa drawls, “Sebastian, you might want to reconsider your wife’s wardrobe. After all, you wouldn’t want people talking about how she’s... lacking in certain areas.”

The light blue dress I have on hits just an inch above my knee, and the collar is a decent boatneck that doesn’t show any hint of cleavage, while the dark-haired Rosa is wearing a dress with a neckline that plunges way down, flaunting her surgically enhanced breasts.

“Rosa!” Marisa barks. “You can’t say things like that. She’s family.”

She raises her hands in mock surrender and replies sarcastically, “My bad. Just looking out forfamily.”

I look down at the dress in question. It’s Chanel and the cost of it is five figures, more than enough to feed a small family. There’s nothing inappropriate about the dress, but I’m guessing Rosa just wants to feel the illusion of having power over me.

Sebastian’s gentle but firm tone has me looking up. “Sofia, go up to your room and change into something else. And then have the staff start preparations for a late lunch.”

Marisa’s eyes are apologetic, but I ignore her and the other occupants of the room, including the man sitting at the very back, legs spread and looking for all the world like a King seated on his throne of gold.

As soon as I’m out of the room, I let out a sigh of relief and then hurry away to my room to change. I’m not going back thereif I can help it. I’m sure I can find a million things to do between now and when I’ll have to join them for lunch.

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