Page 73 of Sweet Retribution

Three days later, and there’s still no word from Stone. I’ve avoided asking questions, not wanting to come off as the whiny, needy... wife, but I’m worried. I stay up late and find Lucca in the gym at eleven o’clock at night.

I wait for him to finish benching the ridiculous amount of weight on the barbell, then hover over him.

“Where is he?”

Lucca avoids eye contact and wipes his hands on a towel.

I prop my hands on my hips and scowl. “Fine. Then tell me when he’ll be back.”

He opens his mouth, then clamps it shut again.

I cover my mouth with my hand and gasp. “He’s not hurt, is he?” Maybe the gunshot wound got infected. He could be in the hospital. If so, I should be by his side.

Lucca lets out a defeated sigh. “He’s on business.”

“Is he... okay? Is he safe?”

Reading my fear, Lucca stands and places a hand on my shoulder. “You and Stone are perfectly safe. I promise.”

“So why the secrecy?”

I’m stepping over the line, but I don’t care. Again, Lucca drops his gaze, uncomfortable with my questioning. He clams up and moves on to the rack of dumbbells, clearly excusing himself from my questioning.

I leave in a huff, slamming the door behind me.

I wake in the morning to a knock on my door. My heart races in anticipation. Stone has returned. I rub the sleepy seeds out of my eyes expecting him to barge in, because that’s what Stone does. He knocks out of courtesy but lets himself in regardless of an invitation.

The knock sounds again. I swing my feet out of bed and open the door. Lucca stands before me, dressed in his usual black pants and black polo shirt, his biceps bursting at the seams.

“Pack your bags. The plane takes off in an hour.”

“Where are we going?”

“Home.”

I blink in confusion. This is my home.

“New York,” he says and walks away.

Home.New York isn’t my home. It’s been home to my mother for the past few months, just as Stone’s estate has been mine.

This could only mean one thing. Stone is dismissing me.

From the contract.

From his home.

From his heart.