Page 40 of The Killer Cupcake
"Mrs. Ricci, would you like us to prepare breakfast before we return to shore?" one of the crew members asked politely from behind her. She turned to address the crew with a lowered voice.
"Certainly. Is there television reception out here?"
The crew member smiled apologetically. “No, ma'am, there's no signal unless we're docked. The antenna is too weak at sea."
"I see. Well then, prepare breakfast for my husband and have it served on deck. I'll eat inside—I have some reading to catch up on."
"Right away, ma'am."
She heard Carmelo's low chuckle with the Captain as they joked about fishing and chose to ignore it completely. She selected a seat in the main cabin where he could glimpse her if he looked sideways, then deliberated between her leather-bound journal and the novel she'd been neglecting.
If she journaled, he'd assume she was processing their conflict, that he remained the center of her emotional universe. For Carmelo, that would be enough to satisfy his need for control. But if she chose the book, it would signal her determination to mentally escape from him, to prefer the separation he was imposing over reconciliation.
That was something the Wolf absolutely could not tolerate.
She chose the book.
When breakfast arrived for him, Carmelo glanced back toward the cabin with evident confusion. He watched her accept her own meal while appearing completely absorbed in her novel, her posture relaxed and content. His stare lingered for a long moment before he looked down at his untouched plate with visible agitation.
Within minutes, he'd gathered his breakfast and stalked into the cabin, choosing a seat directly across from her. A challenge.
Kathy felt his gaze burning into her, but continued reading with serene focus. She nibbled her toast and turned pages with unhurried ease. Carmelo cleared his throat meaningfully—she didn't even glance up. He began eating with exaggerated noise, clattering his silverware against the porcelain.
She simply turned another page.
Finally, his patience snapped. He activated the intercom with sharp aggression. "Captain, take us in. I have business to attend to." His voice was gruff and abrupt, barely controlled.
She sipped her coffee and kept reading.
After ten excruciating minutes of being ignored, he exploded from his chair and switched on the sound system, cranking Bruce Springsteen to an ear-splitting volume.
He'd won. Kathy looked up and glared at him with withering disdain. Carmelo stared back with grim satisfaction.
"What are you, two years old? Turn the music down," she said coolly, and knew he could read her lips.
"No," he replied, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
"Fine. I'll go read on deck." She stood with dignified grace.
He jumped up to block her path, and she paused with patience. "What exactly do you want, Carmelo? I'm not playing these ridiculous games with you."
He rolled his eyes and slumped back into his chair in defeat. She climbed to the upper deck with a secret smile, leaving him to sulk in his manufactured chaos.
When they docked, she accepted assistance only from the crew, pointedly refusing his offered hand in front of his men. They rode to the villa in glacial silence, the tension thick enough to cut.
Nino met them at the estate's grand entrance, sweeping Kathy into an enthusiastic bear hug that nearly lifted her off her feet. She embraced him warmly, genuinely happy to see his innocent joy. When he finally released her and led her inside, she glanced back to see Carmelo walking away in the opposite direction, his shoulders rigid with frustration.
The first round was hers.
The rest of the day passed without any sign of him, which completely undermined her strategy. It was impossible to punish someone who refused to be present for the punishment. She took a leisurely stroll through the villa's manicured gardens with Nino, then positioned herself strategically in the solarium where Carmelo typically enjoyed his evening cigars. She lingered there longer than necessary, pretending to read while actually listening for his footsteps.
He never appeared.
After an afternoon of playing games with Nino and sharing a quiet dinner where Carmelo’s empty chair seemed to mock her efforts, she climbed the marble staircase to their bedroom with barely concealed hope. Perhaps he was waiting for her there, ready to engage in the emotional chess match she'd so carefully orchestrated.
The room was empty, his side of the bed still perfectly made from that morning.
Her heart plummeted like a stone dropping into dark water.
