Page 58 of The Deal

She extends her hand, her blood-red, cat-like claws gleaming in the light. “I’m Sophia Mancini, Alexander’s wife.”

“You are not my wife,” Alexander barks, standing and wrapping his fingers around her elbow. “Give us a minute, please,” he says, his eyes briefly meeting mine before he marches her out of the room.

I’m left sitting there with my stomach churning and my head spinning. The little boy in front of me just smiles as if he has no idea what’s going on either.

“You’re pretty,” he suddenly says.

“Thank you,” I reply, forcing out a smile.

“Are you my dad’s girlfriend?”

“No.”

I’m not his girlfriend or his side piece … well, I seriously hope I’m not. Sleeping together before marriage is one thing, but adultery is where I draw the line. I’m no homewrecker.

“What’s your name?” the boy asks, completely unfazed by the shouting match going on between his parents out in the hallway.

Is this normal behaviour for them? I feel sorry for the kid if it is.

“Chloe.”

“Nice to meet you, Chloe,” he says, extending his little hand to me. “My name is Giovanni. Giovanni Alessandro Mancini.”

It’s such a grown-up thing for a little boy to say.

I gently wrap my fingers around his. “It’s nice to meet you too, Giovanni.”

My eyes scan over his cute little face. I don’t see a resemblance between him and his father, apart from the dark hair and olive complexion.His father.Like, what the actual fuck! Didn’t he just tell me last night he has no intentions of procreating?

Lying fucking cad.

That knowledge shifts my shock to anger. What an idiotI am! I fell for his charm hook, line, and sinker despite already knowing the type of person he was.

If someone shows you who they truly are … believe them.

“Giovanni,” someone says from the doorway. Both our heads snap in that direction, where we find Carmella standing. Her fingers are nervously knotting in her apron. She looks as uncomfortable as I now feel.

She’s finally making eye contact with me again, and the pity I see in her eyes tells me everything I need to know.

“Carmella,” Giovanni yells, turning and running into her open arms.

“I’ve missed you,dolce ragazzo.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he replies.

“I’ve just made a fresh batch ofbaci di dama. Do you want to come with me into the kitchen and be my official taste tester?”

“Do I ever,” he says, excited. “Can I have a glass of milk as well?”

“Of course,bambino.”

Her attention moves back to me, and her eyes gesture to another door on the far wall. My escape route, I presume.

I nod my head in a silent thank you, and once she leaves the room with Giovanni in tow, I head straight for the door.

I was right; it is another entrance … or exit in this case.

I slip out into the hallway, further down from where Alexander and his wife argue. They are so busy screaming at each other that neither of them notices me.

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