Page 81 of King

I stare at my phone as hot steam wisps from the coffee next to me.

I know who to message.

But once it’s done, it’s done. There is no turning back.

I have no choice.

Punching at my keyboard I type out the message I’m reluctant to send - instructing the private investigator to look into her past. Everything and anything about her that I need to know.

When I hit send, I expect to feel guilt, but instead I feel relief. A weight lifts off my shoulders and I close my eyes, relishing it.

It’s just a precaution.

He’ll find nothing and I will be able to carry on with my life instead of worrying over this.

I shove my phone into my pocket and walk out into the garden. It’s still messy with remnants of our wedding. White flowers litter the grass and empty champagne glasses sit on tables around the tents.

It ended late - a team will be here first thing in the morning to take all of this away - the garden will return to normal as though nothing happened here.

I look down at my finger, the solid platinum band around it is heavy and uncomfortable in my doubt.

Toying with it I push it in circles over my fingers.

I hope he replies soon.

I can’t wait long.

I need to know if I can trust her.

TWENTY-FOUR

zina

The decorations were cleaned away, and the tents were taken down - if I look out into the garden from the balcony off our bedroom - it’s like the wedding never happened.

The only evidence I didn’t imagine it all is the beautiful white gold ring around my finger, a massive diamond ring next to an elegant wedding band.

I play with the rings, moving them around my finger, trying to figure out what’s wrong.

Since the wedding Giovanni has been distant and cold towards me.

I’ve tried over and over again to talk to him, to try to convince him to let in - to tell me what’s bothering him. But his walls are up and so high they are impossible to break through.

Nothing I do is working.

And I’m beginning to think he regrets marrying me.

Tension in the house is horrible high.

Santino has reverted back to how he was before, when he didn’t hide the fact that he hated me. Romeo is the same.

The boys are plotting again. I can see it in the way they look at me. With cold stares and anger so deep it might be deadly.

Would they try to kill me? Their father’s wife? Would they dare to move against me in an attempt to take my life?

Yes.

My heart clenches.

---