Page 42 of King

Every fiber of my being wants to reach out and comfort her. I want to protect her from ever feeling pain. I want to take care of her and be the one who makes her smile.

Frustration swarms through me along with the guilt I’m already carrying. I’ve only just lost Bella and I’m already falling for the woman who almost took me away from my family before.

Did I ever stop loving Zina?

Yes.

No.

I stab my steak and cut at it aggressively with the serrated knife. Angry with myself because IknowI never stopped loving her. In order to leave her I had to convinced myself I never loved her in the first place. Knowing it was a lie. Knowing it was impossible to let her go. I lied to myself and forced myself to believe I didn’t evenlikeher. I convinced myself that she was a temptress. A muse. That she was dangerous and wicked.

I told myself it was her fault that I cheated on Bella.

But it was me. I made the moves. I made the promises.

I chased her until I could possess her in every way possible.

It was the most exquisite thing I’ve ever felt.

And then I left her.

I was cruel. I remember the day. It broke me in ways that changed me. But I had no choice.

I clench my jaw.

Being with Zina makes me feel powerful. She is the ideal feminine for me. And I think that’s what terrifies me the most.

It feels like a sin to admit that she was a better woman for me than my wife could ever have been.

My sweet, innocent, beautiful wife. I loved her dearly, but she never saw the real me. The version that I showed Zina.

A darker, more dangerous love. An enticing, exciting love.

After dinner when Romeo and Santino have left and Dante and Guido are still chatting away, Zina stands to clear the dishes.

“You can leave it. The cleaners will do it.” I say, confused.

“It’s ok. I just want something to do.” She mumbles.

“I’ll help.” Dante says cheerfully.

Zina and I both look at him in surprise.

“Oh.” She says, tilting her head to the side.

Dante gathers plates, stacking them together.

He hands Zina the cutlery so she can collect it in an empty dish. They work together and I see the smile on her lips growing wider.

“I used to help my mom with all sorts of things.” Dante says, chatting happily.

“Like what?” Zina asks, standing next to him.

“Like, I used to make her tea. She said no one else made tea like I did.”

“I love tea, but I’m super fussy about how it’s made.” She shrugs.

“I’ll make tea for you. You’ll see how good it is.” Dante grins.

---