Page 100 of Single Malt Drama

I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. Images of Marco unconscious and bleeding flashed through my mind and the nausea returned. The stress can’t be good for the baby. I have to be strong for both of us now.

The aircraft leveled off and the flight attendant entered the main cabin. As with most of the people who took care of us, she smiled and silently went about her duties. It struck me how much I’d enjoyed learning to do things for myself and how I’d grown to hate sitting on my ass letting people serve me.

I unbuckled, walked to the bar, and reached for a glass.

The woman’s mouth fell open. “Miss Lazio, allow me.”

“It’s okay. I can pour myself a ginger ale.” Smiling, I said, “It’s Mrs. Marchionni now.”

Giancarlo gave me a curious look. “Ready for that talk?”

“Sure.” I filled my glass with ice and grabbed a can of soda. “Can I get you anything?”

He continued to stare. “Marchionni have you working for your room and board out there in the swamp?”

I drew a deep breath and swallowed my smart-assed comment. “I was being polite. Forget I asked.”

“A bottle of water.” He frowned. “Please.”

I took a water from the refrigerator and walked to the back of the plane.

Giancarlo followed me to the master suite and closed the door behind him. “Look, I get it. You were in the middle of nowhere with the guy for months with nothing to do but each other, but you can drop the act.”

Not trusting my wobbly legs, I sat on the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about?”

“I know the marriage isn’t real.” He stared down his nose at me as if he were the judge and jury of my mistakes.

“It’s as real as it gets, Giancarlo. We were married in a church, by a priest, and I’m pregnant, so it was obviously consummated.”

“I’ve seen a copy of the agreement you and pretty boy signed before you were married.”

A rush of adrenaline burst through me. My heart sped and hands trembled, and yes, my stomach twisted as if to wring out the last of my dinner. How is this possible?

I remembered signing the contract, putting it in an envelope, and sticking it in my pocket. Did it fall out when I was trying on Hildie’s wedding dress? Did she betray me?

“Well?” He tapped his foot like an impatient professor waiting for the correct answer—an answer I didn’t have.

“You don’t understand.”

“You deny it?” His nostrils flared like a freaking bull.

“No.” I motioned to the chair. “Please sit and let me explain.”

He folded his arms. “I prefer to stand while being lied to.”

Well that’s great. Just great. He’s already convinced he knows the truth. I drew a deep breath and told him everything, and I mean everything, including Marco’s early morning run to the store for condoms.

Giancarlo sank into the chair, leaned forward, and rested his elbows on his thighs. “Like I said before, you are full of surprises.”

Unsure if he believed me or if I’d overwhelmed him, I shoved my left hand in his face. “Why would he go to the trouble of buying me this is he didn’t love me?”

My brother studied the ring. I knew the second he made the connection by the way he sucked in a breath.

I lowered my voice. “It’s almost identical—”

“To Mamma’s.” He took my hand and turned it toward the light. “How did he know?”

“I showed him the real thing when we were kids.”

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