Page 125 of The Deal

I glance into the back seat at Giovanni, watching him fiddle with his seat belt. “Are you excited to see your mum?” I ask gently.

He shrugs his little shoulders, the uncertainty evident in his eyes. “Yeah … but I’m coming home with you and Dad, right? I don’t have to stay with her?”

Before I can answer, Alexander’s voice cuts through the air, low and firm. “You’re coming home with us,” he growls, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

I can feel the tension in the car, the air thick with unspoken words, so I reach over to rest my hand on Alexander’s leg, silently offering my support. He’s doing this for all the right reasons, wanting to give Giovanni the chance to see his mother, but I hate the position it’s putting him in. She is so unpredictable, and the unknown scares me most.

I gently squeeze his leg, hoping it’ll reassure him, even if just a little. He doesn’t say anything, but I feel him relax slightly under my touch.

We’ll get through this together.

When we reach the address she gave us, I’m taken aback. It’s not a hotel or a home. It’s a small stone church sitting idly in the middle of nowhere. There’s nothing around but a few weathered signs.

“Why would she tell us to meet her here?” I ask, confusion lacing my voice.

The whole situation feels off, and I can’t shake the sense that something isn’t right. Alexander’s grip on the wheel tightens, his jaw clenched as he scans the area, no doubt thinking the same thing.

He exhales sharply. “I don’t know, but I’m giving her ten minutes, and if she doesn’t arrive, we are leaving.”

Unfortunately, a few minutes later, a car pulls up in front of us. We both stare out the windshield at the battered vehicle, weathered by time and neglect. Its faded paint, once a bright shade of red, is now dull, with patches of rusted metal underneath that has started to show through. The once-chrome bumper is also tarnished and pitted, with spots of rust.

I swallow thickly when Sophia steps out of the passenger side, and my breath catches in my throat. She’s wearing a barely there red dress that clings to her curves, cut so low it leaves little to the imagination, and sky-high heels that click loudly as she strides towards us.

I’m not usually one to judge, but she looks like she’s heading out for a night on the town—or worse, to work a street corner—rather than trying to reconnect with her son.

Alexander removes his seat belt and exits the car, rounding the vehicle to meet Sophia as she approaches.

A younger man eventually climbs out of the driver’s side of the other vehicle, lights a cigarette, and begins walking toward them with a purposeful stride. My first instinct is to get out as well.

He doesn’t look threatening—though, in reality, my husband could snap him like a twig without breaking a sweat—but my protective instincts are already on high alert.

I turn to Giovanni, who’s watching with wide eyes, unsure of what’s happening. “Stay in the car until I come to get you, okay, sweetie?”

“Okay, Mummy,” he replies, his voice soft but steady.

The word hits me in a way I’m still getting used to. As much as I love that he sees me as a mother figure, there’s a flicker of worry in the pit of my stomach. I hope he doesn’t refer to me as that in front of Sophia. That woman already hates me with a passion, and hearing Giovanni call me“Mummy”would probably send her into a rage.

As I step out of the car and approach them, I can feel Sophia’s gaze before I even see it. The look she gives me is cold and lethal, like she’s sizing me up, deciding just how much she despises me at this moment. It doesn’t faze me in the slightest because, I can assure you, the feeling is mutual.

“What is she doing here?” she spits, her words sharp like daggers.

“She’s my wife,” Alexander replies firmly, his voice calm but edged with finality. “She comes with me wherever I go.”

Sophia scoffs, her voice laced with bitterness. “You never took me with you when I was your wife.”

“That’s because I married Chloe by choice …”

He lets the sentence hang in the air, unspoken words lingering between them. The meaning is clear … he never wanted to marry her, and she knows it.

Alexander’s gaze then moves to the guy standing beside her. “And if you want to keep those teeth in your head, I’d appreciate it if you stopped looking at my wife like that.”

His hands shoot up defensively in front of him, and as he retreats a step, Sophia’s arm comes out to whack him in the chest. “Are you serious right now, Luigi?” she whines. Her gaze hardens, her lips curling into a sneer when she turns back to face my husband. “Where is my son?”

I reply before Alexander can, trying to keep my voice calm despite the rising tension. “He’s in the car.”

“I didn’t ask you,puttana,” she growls, her tone dripping with contempt.

Before I can say anything else, Alexander advances, his patience clearly running out, and even the guy standing beside her senses it because he retreats another two steps.

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