As my wife flees from the room, I sink to the floor. I ruined her, just as I knew I would, but I brought myself down with her. Closing my eyes, I bow my head and try to breathe. It’s impossible with regret crushing my chest. I punished her without giving her the chance to explain. The desolation I saw in her eyes kills me. What the fuck have I just done?
CHAPTER 22
Olivia
Swiping tears born of anger and frustration from my cheeks, I hurry along the corridor and get into the elevator. I feel dirty, used, and unbelievably hurt. The way Piotr looked at me makes me wonder if there’s any way back for us. His disgust was palpable. He thinks I betrayed him and he hates me for it.
Though I should have been honest with him about Dario from the start, the way he treated me just now isn’t okay. He acted like I meant nothing to him. His revelation about the photographs shocked me. I have no idea how I’m supposed to feel about that.
I need to know how he got ahold of the photos. I don’t think he did business with Joey Gallo, but of course I know little about my husband’s dealings. It’s hard to understand why he kept the pictures to himself. Was he just waiting for the right moment to throw them in my face? Perhaps it was a game to him, to build me up to where I was happier than I ever believed possibleand then wreck the illusion. Because that’s all it was, right? A fantasy.
Piotr having the photos raises so many questions. I wonder if he’s the mystery person Dario’s been working with all along. No, that can’t be right. He said the person who wanted to sell me the photos was a woman. Perhaps Piotr doesn’t have all the photos, or just as likely, there are duplicates out there. I wouldn’t be surprised if Joey made copies as insurance.
I feel like shit after what happened between Piotr and me, and the stupid thing is he’s the one I want to seek comfort from. It’s Piotr’s arms I want around me, his words of reassurance whispered in my ear. Nobody has ever made me feel as valued as he did, and that makes everything worse. I fear he’s been laughing at my naivety all along.
A part of me wants to go back to the room and confront him. I need to know if what we had was real or if he’s been playing me. I’d like to lay the truth bare and see if there’s anything of our marriage to salvage. My heart tells me to return to him, to not let anything fester. I long for his closeness. My head tells me that’s not a good idea right now, that some time apart will allow our emotions to settle. It’s my head I decide to follow.
A quick glance at the elevator’s mirrored wall tells me it would be unwise to return to my party. People will speculate about my red, puffy eyes and bruised lips. Wisps of hair have come loose from my ponytail, completing the dragged-through-a-bush look. Even if I could do something about my appearance, I’m not in the mood to celebrate now. Hopefully, I can slip out of here without running into anyone I know.
That hope is dashed the moment I step out into the lobby and come face to face with one of the last people I want to see rightnow. Dante Parisi. He’s a judgmental ass who loves to point out my every little flaw. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to notice how disheveled I am.
“Have you seen Alessia?” he demands.
“No, I haven’t and you should leave her the fuck alone.” I am sick of the men in our world using women as pawns in their ridiculous power plays. “She doesn’t need an asshole like you in her life.”
Dante’s face darkens. If he was any other man, I’d be afraid, but he’s my brother’s closest confidant and no matter how much he’d love to smack me right now, he’d never risk upsetting Antonio. “Keep your opinions to yourself.”
“Fuck you, Dante.” I storm off across the lobby, muttering under my breath. “Fuck all of you.”
As I head for the exit, I spot Leo making his way out of the hotel. He’s not the brother I would normally choose to help me, but I don’t want to go into the ballroom in search of one of the others. Leo walks into the street and heads for his car. His latest acquisition is a flashy neon green McLaren Artura. It’s not his usual style, but I heard he took it from a debtor and is driving it around to rub salt in the guy’s wounds.
“Leo,” I call after him. “Wait.”
He turns around and looks me up and down. “Olivia? What the fuck happened to you? Where’s Reznov?”
“We had a fight.”
Leo grasps my chin and tilts my head one way and then the other as he inspects my face beneath the glow of the hotel’s exterior lights.
“Ouch,” I grumble when his fingers dig in too hard.
“Did he hit you?” Leo snarls.
“Of course not.” Do I really look so bad that he thinks I’ve been beaten?
“I’ll kick his ass if he did.”
As touching as it is that Leo is willing to avenge me, that’s not what I need him for.
“He didn’t hit me,” I say firmly. “We had a fight, and I walked out. I need somewhere to stay tonight. Can I come to your place?”
Leo looks uncertain. No, worse than that, he looks appalled by the very idea. He rubs the back of his neck. “Wouldn’t Matteo be better? I can go get him.”
Nine out of ten times I would prefer the company of Matteo or even Alessandro, who’s more tolerable now that Emilia has softened his harsh manner, but Leo’s who I’d rather be around right now. I don’t want someone to console me and tell me everything will be alright. I want someone to tell me to pick myself up and fight for what I want. Tough love is what I’ve always got from Leo and for once I’ll welcome it.
“No, I want you to take me to your place and let me sleep in one of the four fucking guest rooms I know you have.”
“Olivia, I…”