Page 28 of The Bonventi Hitman
"Isabella, Isabella, now," Luca says, firmly grabbing her arm. "Let's go outside."
She jerks her arm but is unable to escape his grip. She turns back, and her venomous gaze strikes me, her lips curling intoa sneer. "Tell me, how much is my husband paying you to fuck him?"
I swallow hard, my mind racing as I try to think of a way to de-escalate the situation. I've never been in a position like this, and I don't know how to handle it. My FBI training tells me I need to speak, but the real me is unable to even move.
My palms are sweaty, and I feel my fight-or-flight senses kick in, but I just focus on forcing myself to keep my cool, not to crack.
"I'm just here to enjoy the evening," I say, my voice steady and calm. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."
She laughs her mocking laugh again. "A misunderstanding? You're sleeping with my husband! How is that a misunderstanding?"
Before I can even respond—not that I know what I was going to say—Luca manages to escort her out of the room. There's a slight pause, but the atmosphere returns just as it was before Isabella's grand entrance.
I turn my back to the room and down the champagne.
"Another," I say, lifting up the empty glass to the bartender.
He nods. "I don't blame you."
As he brings me a new glass, I hear a woman's voice over my shoulder.
"Don't give it much thought," she says.
I turn to see a beautiful blonde who reminds me of Marilyn Monroe. She smiles and leans against the bar. "I'll have what she's having."
"Thank you," I say in response to her kindness.
"Really, it's all a fucking game with them. We all have our place. Wife, mistress. We all know what we're getting into. Especially Isabella."
Her words replay in my head.We all have our place.But what's my place in all this? Between my mission, Luca's abuse, and these confusing feelings for Gabriel, I feel more lost than ever.
"What's yours?" I ask and take another sip.
"Same as you. Not married to any of them, thank god. Being their mistress is a lot more fun. Trust me."
I nod.
"Oh, he's calling. Take care," the woman says, grabbing her drink and walking over to a mobster sitting in the corner.
I turn back to the bar and try to process everything that just happened. My hands are shaking slightly, but not from fear. From anger. Anger at Luca, at this whole situation, at myself for being part of it.
Just as I start to regain my composure, I see the bartender stare at someone behind me. His face unreadable. Is it Isabella, back for round two?
I turn slowly, my heart pounding in my chest, to face whoever it is—and find myself looking into Luca's dark, unreadable eyes.
"Sofia," he says. "We need to talk."
ANNA - 11
"Iwant to apologize for that, uh, little display," he says, his voice steady and even. He's good at hiding any emotion beyond lust and anger; I'll give him that.
He extends his hand to me, an unspoken invitation to join him. "Let's go in the other room and dance, shall we?"
On the dance floor, we're surrounded by other couples moving to the jazz-infused music. As Luca's hands roam my waist, I can't help but remember how different Gabriel's touch felt - electric rather than repulsive.
"I hope that little scene didn't ruin your evening," Luca says, his voice low and seductive.
Of course it did. One, you're a pig, and two, it was your fucking wife.
