Page 120 of Sins of the Orchid
“Amore, what’s wrong?” DeAngelo lowered himself next to me and sat down on the rocky beach. I needed time. To come to terms with this anguish, the pain that swelled in my heart.
“Nothing,” I rasped out. “Nothing important.”
Lorenzo lowered himself down on the other side of me. He looked ridiculous sitting on the rocky beach wearing his three-piece-suit. He unbuttoned his jacket, giving me a glimpse of his holster. Sometimes I thought Lorenzo took showers with the damn gun.
Lorenzo wrapped an arm around me. “If it was nothing, you wouldn’t cry.”
“Maybe it’s that time of the month,” I muttered. “And I’m highly emotional.”
Both DeAngelo and Lorenzo rolled their eyes, but I ignored them. I wasn’t in the mood for their discussions. I didn’t want anyone to see me fall apart and now both of them were crowding me. I hadn’t cried like this since Santi wiped my tears away all those years ago. I never even dreamt he’d cause the next ones.
The betrayal washed over me. I thought he was better than to break up with me over text. He could have at least FaceTimed me. Anger slowly simmered in my veins, turning my sorrow into bitterness. Who did he think he was?
Pulling my phone out, I scrolled through my phone book until I found his name.
“Nothing, huh?” Lorenzo mumbled, his eyes on my phone.
Ignoring him, I pressed the FaceTime button. The ringing sound vibrated, but it was immediately turned off. He cut off the ring.
Bitterness turned into fury.
That fucking asshole can’t even dump me over FaceTime!
“Amore, you—” Lorenzo started but I cut him off.
“Brother, DeAngelo, please give me five minutes,” I said, trying to keep my voice even. Those two could be stubborn when worried about me. I didn’t want to feed their worry right now. “I just want to call Dad.”
It was a partial truth. Those two shared a glance, then without another word stood up and left me to it.
I pressed the call button again, attempting to FaceTime Santi.
Ended. An incoming text message beeped.
*Stop calling, Amore. There is nothing left to say to each other.*
Rage rose within me, mixing with the pain of his loss. Yes, I loved the prick, but he had another thing coming if he thought I’d take it silently. I still had plenty of fucking shit to say.
He didn’t want to watch my face as he broke my heart.
Fine.
He didn’t want to see my tears.
Fine.
Russo would get his wish. I would never message or call him again. But if he thought I’d hide or make this easy on him by keeping out of his sight, he had another thing coming. I was the Regina Regalè’s heiress, Amore fucking Bennetti. I’ve survived worse things. I’ve seen my mother tortured and murdered in front of my eyes; I listened to George’s painful screams as he was tortured; I hid in the jungle for days before the Carrera cartel saved me and spared my life.
I was a fucking survivor. I lived the first thirteen years never hearing the Russo name; I sure as hell could live the rest of my life never hearing it. But he’d hear mine.
I wouldn’t see him, but I’d be damn sure he saw me everywhere.
Picking up the phone, I dialed my dad. He answered on the first ring.
“Amore, everything okay?”
“Yes, Dad, all good.”
I heard a sigh of relief over the phone line. “Where are you? Vincent said you left the office early.”
