Page 39 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

Of course, I would never admit to him that I liked it better this way too. I never used permanent hair color so the hairdresser was able to strip the color off without major damage to my hair and did an amazing job bringing it back to my natural color. Or as close as possible to it because honestly, after all that time, it was hard to remember the exact shade of it. It felt good to have it cut and freshened up.

Next, he designated Matteo’s room closer to his own bedroom rather than Ella’s and where I intended to sleep; I didn’t complain. I just gritted my teeth and went along with it, reminding myself it was only temporary. Until I got the annulment. If I had to, I’d just sleep in Matteo’s room. It was certainly big enough.

But now he went too far. He had all my stuff taken to his bedroom. If that man thought I’d sleep in his bedroom for one second while we wait for this annulment, he was crazier than I thought.

“Luciano, I have to talk-” My words trailed off as I burst through the office door finding Luciano with four other men I had never seen. All five of them were deep in discussion, with drinks in their hands. Luciano and another guy were sitting with their feet propped up on the table, one guy was lounging on a sofa and two were playing darts.

Yeah, these are some tough criminals right here, I scoffed in my head. And there was no doubt in my mind they were criminals. Just the air about them was enough to confirm that. Well, that and the fact that each one of them had a gun holster. I might have missed a little fact like that three years ago but not anymore.

I pierced them all with a glare. I hated them as much as my husband. Guilty by association, if you asked me. But of course, nobody asked me. Nobody cared that he dragged us back into this life we didn’t want, jeopardizing my son.

Our son.Why did my mind try to be fair? Nothing my husband did was fair. So, no…my son!

I glanced around the space, and just like when we first got married, this space impressed me. Luciano’s office was one of the biggest offices I had ever seen. I guess it made sense since he spent so much time here. Expensive mahogany furniture accented the entire room. There were two sofas to allow visitors to make themselves comfortable. The room was decorated with taste but mainly with comfort in mind.

The best feature of it was the extensive top to bottom French windows that led to a patio and allowed you to see over the whole property. The pool stretched barely fifteen feet outside.

“Ah, Grace.” Luciano greeted me with a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You- you,” I searched for the right words.

“Your husband, yes,” he finished sarcastically.

“You. Are. Not. My. Husband.” I spoke the words through my clenched teeth. I was so pissed off, I could barely see straight.

He tilted his head as if considering my words. “Funny, because I have paperwork that shows I am.”

“Well, that is funny indeed. Because I have experience showing you are an asshole.”

Someone started to laugh but quickly covered it by clearing their throat. But my gaze remained glued on my husband, wishing I could kill him with my glare.

“Did you come here to discuss our marriage status or something else, wife?”

A growl escaped me as I glared at him, locking my gaze with those hazel eyes I used to love so much.

“I want my own room,” I gritted through my teeth.

“No.”

“You don’t get to decide where I sleep,” I hissed.

“My house, my rules.”

“You fucking asshole. I don’t even want to be here. You are forcing me to stay here. I’d rather sleep on the street than under the same roof as you. But here I am. Until the annulment comes through, you will give me my own room or I-”

“Or what, wife?” he challenged me, a knowing smile on his full lips.

My blood boiled and an image flashed through my mind, me throwing something and smashing it into his handsome face, wiping that smug smile off his lips. Before my brain processed what my body was doing, that was exactly what I did. I reached for the first object closest to me and threw it flying across the room. It missed him and crashed against the wall.

I watched with horror as an antique vase shattered into million pieces, landing all over his floor, desk and some chips even landed into my husband’s hair. I hated his fucking guts.

The crash was followed by stillness, and I was painfully aware of my heart thundering in my chest. It beat so hard, I was scared my ribs would break. Silence stretched as all kinds of creative words played in my mind. Each was worse than the previous, and I wanted to scream them all to his face. We’ve only been here forty-eight hours, and I hated it.

I despised him, his men, this house, this city. Every damn thing. It was a painful reminder of what he had done to me. I ignored his visitors. They didn’t matter. Anything connected to Luciano had nothing to do with me, and I wanted as far away as possible from it.

“I hate your fucking guts.” My voice dripped with the feelings and there was no mistaking that I meant those words.

“Wife, these are my friends. Cassio, Luca, Alessandro, and Nico. Let’s leave family drama for later and say hi to them.”

---