Page 70 of Depths of Obsession
The Carabinieri officer leans back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “So, you aren’t responsible for these drugs?”
“Absolutely not.” My voice is filled with barely controlled frustration. I need to get out of here and back to Pippa. I need to make sure she’s okay. I also want to spend my wedding night with my wife.
“I heard you got married today,”Droppo says, almost conversationally. “The same thing happened to your brother. Arrested on his wedding day. Quite the coincidence.”
“Almost like someone has it out for us,” I snap. “You’re making my point for me. I am not responsible for this. I wasn’t even in New York when the overdoses happened. I was in my office when the sale went down. I don’t know anything about this man.” I jab my finger at Robert’s picture. “And now, I’d like to go home to my wife.” I stand up, pushing the chair back.
“Sit down!” DeSoto shouts, but before he can say anything else, the door opens, and a man in a tailored suit walks in.
Amadeo Tribiani. I recognize him instantly, and it takes all of my willpower not to smile.
“Luca,” Amadeo says, his voice warm as he walks in. “I hear congratulations are in order.” He extends his hand, and I take it.
“Thank you, Amadeo. I appreciate it. It was a quick wedding, but we’re planning a much larger celebration this summer. I expect you and Antonia to be there.”
Amadeo smiles. “We’d be delighted.”
Amadeo turns to the Carabinieri officer, his expression hardening. “Che diavolo pensavi di fare arrestandolo? Rilascialo.”
This time, I let the smile come through. “Grazie, Amadeo.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, Luca. Go find your wife.”
I shake Amadeo’s hand again as DeSoto shoots to his feet. “What? We need to question him further! He’s part of one of the most powerful mafia families in Italy, and you’re just going to let him walk out the door?”
Amadeo’s gaze slides over to DeSoto, unruffled. “Si.”
I allow myself a grin, then turn and walk out the door. I can’t wait to get home to Pippa—my wife.
CHAPTER 23
Ipull the dress down over my head and adjust it, examining my reflection in the mirror. Fear and dismay twist into a frightening knot in my stomach. I don't know what I was thinking when I grabbed this dress at my apartment. Was it really only a few nights ago? It seems like a lifetime.
The dress is figure-hugging, and every dip and valley of my body is emphasized in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination. It also brings out the green in my hazel eyes, making them glimmer like jewels in the low light. It matches the earrings and necklace set Luca gave me for the wedding perfectly.
Who am I kidding—I know exactly what I was thinking. I wanted Luca to notice me. To want me. I wanted to stand out, to make his gaze linger.
But that was before.
Now I want nothing more than to blend in. Standing out at this auction is probably the worst idea imaginable. I want to fade away into the background like a shadow.
I look at the wedding rings on my finger. I’m married. I had been so confident when Luca was standing in the gazebo. I honestly thought Luca loved me. That we really were getting married for love. Taking a step back, and seeing reality, it’s pretty obvious he married me as a way to right a wrong that happened long ago. I am just a means to assuage his guilt.
I was an abject idiot to fall in love with him.
I shake my head at my own foolishness, biting my lip as I finish smoothing out the gown. It clings to me, defiant against my doubts. I slip on my sky-high heels, feeling even more conspicuous. Then, I gather my long hair, twisting it up into a loose chignon, leaving a few loose tendrils framing my face. It's a look that says "effortlessly elegant," but right now it just feels like a mask.
I check the mirror one more time, adjusting my makeup, making sure my lipstick is perfect. No smudges, no imperfection to be seen. My wedding dress is lying on the bed. Nico dropped off some clothes earlier saying he was sure Luca would want Rocco to go over the loft in great detail to make sure the cops hadn’t planted any listening devices or cameras or anything else.
As soon as the auction is over, I will leave and go to my mother. From there we will go somewhere. I have friends in the U.S., people who will let us stay with them if needed. Or maybe, just maybe, it’d be better to pick a place where I know no one, to start over somewhere completely new. We still don’t know who holds my father’s debts and I know they will not let it die with him. It’s better if we just go.
I have fake passports—two, in fact. When Mia asked me to make one for her, I decided to cover my bases too. I even got fake green cards for each identity, so I'm good to go. I have money stashed away—enough to live on comfortably for a year before things get tight. I just don’t have a fake ID for my mother. At least not yet. I grab my cell and text my contact. We always speak in code just in case.
Looks like it’s raining again. My mother needs an umbrella.
A reply comes back almost immediately.
Okay. No problem. I expect to be singing in the rain in no time.
