Page 90 of Beautiful Devil

I try my best to sound convincing and to hide the distaste on my tongue as I say those words out loud. Sickness swirls in my stomach. I don't bother to offer one to Marco. I'm pissed that he's trying to call me out on this shit. He might be my best friend and second in command, but I don't need thisfeelings talkfrom him.

When I look up at him again, I know he doubts my words, but as he hasn't started talking yet, I'm guessing he won't push it anymore. At least not right now, anyway.

"Look, yes, she's gorgeous, and she's a great fuck, but like I said, she's not made for this life. She's not what I need. It was purely business. She's nothing to me." And with that, I down my drink in one quick mouthful, trying to wash away every word I just spoke.

* * *

GIA

I wake again to an empty spot beside me in the bed. The only telltale sign Fabi comes to bed is the rumpled sheets on his side when I wake. I'm so fucking sick of living like this. The bastard clearly got what he wanted and isn't man enough to tell me that whatever was starting to build between us is well and truly dead.

Fuck him and fuck living like this. I'm a fucking grown-ass woman. I've already been in one marriage where I believed my husband loved me. I'm sure as hell not going to stick around for one I was forced into. He either admits there's something between us or else he lets me go.

Jumping out of bed, I take a long, hot shower, enjoying the feeling of how hard the water hits my skin. I won't have this when he lets me go back home. As much as it shocks me, a feeling of sadness washes over me. I'm going to miss this place. I'm going to miss Maria's cooking, and unfortunately, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm going to miss Fabi.

I definitely didn't plan to fall in love with a mafia don, but six weeks after being kidnapped…well, here we are. I exit the shower and dress before doing my hair and applying a little makeup. I need to talk to Fabi. I won't stay here and be forced to live in a loveless marriage and live in a house that feels like a prison. I open the bedroom door, and as always, Luigi awaits.

"Buongiorno, Gia."

“Morning, Luigi.” I beam brightly, trying to hide my nerves about talking to Fabi later today.

I pray that he doesn’t notice. Not sure how convincing I was, because he dips his head and we begin to walk toward the kitchen in comfortable silence. When I enter the kitchen, Luigi exits while Maria places my breakfast in front of me on the island. She must see that I’m not in a talking mood either, because she leaves me alone with my thoughts, which right now is a dangerous thing.

Pushing my food around on my plate, I take one bite of my eggs before setting my fork down and sliding my dish away from me. I don’t have much of an appetite, and even though Maria makes some of the best eggs I’ve ever had, they taste like sandpaper on my tongue. And I know it’s from the stress of being in limbo with Fabi after our fight.

I decide it’s time to be a big girl and go talk to him.

It’s now or never.

The walk to Fabi’s office seems to take forever. My hands are sweaty, and I keep wiping them on my pants.Why am I so nervous?I’ve talked to Fabi hundreds of times and shown up out of the blue at his office before. Am I nervous because I don’t know how he’ll react to me showing up when we haven’t spoken in two days or is it because I know in my heart what he’s going to tell me?

I’m just approaching Fabi’s office when I hear voices from inside. Not wanting to interrupt, I stop just outside the cracked door. I’m about to turn around and come back later when I hear my name. My ears prick up and I inch myself closer to the door so I can hear what they’re saying.

"You're wrong. I married her to get one up on thestronzo, Dante. I married her for business. She's a good fuck, but not someone that's made for this life, and not someone that's made for me."

I feel like I was just sucker-punched in the stomach. All the air escapes me and I feel like I’m going to pass out. My heart is beating so fast, but it’s no longer from nerves. I need to move, but my feet feel like they’re cemented in place. Before I can move, Fabi speaks again.

"Look, yes, she's gorgeous, and she's a great fuck, but like I said, she's not made for this life. She's not what I need. It was purely business. She's not for me."

Tears began to well in my eyes at the same time bile rises in my throat. I need to get out of here. I refuse to let him see me like this – or worse, witness me falling apart at his words and taking pride in my pain. I have no clue who he’s talking to, but I don’t stick around to find out. My feet finally move, and I spin around so quickly that I almost fall over.

I run up the stairs as fast and as silently as I can, begging my tears not to fall until I’m in the privacy of my own room. As I reach the door to my old room, I open and shut it quietly behind me and lock it. Even though I know it won't keep him out, it still makes me feel safer.

Not wanting to draw any attention to myself being in here, I keep the light off and make my way over to the bathroom. As soon as the lock clicks shut, I fall to the ground and cry uncontrollably. The dam has broken, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. My body rocks with the force of my tears. I cover my mouth with my hands in hopes of drowning out any sound I’m making. Pain like I’ve never felt before, courses through me as his words repeat on loop, over and over in my head. Witnessing Gallo’s arrest and divorcing him was nothing compared to the pain I’m feeling right now.

I think I’m going to be sick.

I crawl as quickly as I can over to the toilet and bring up what little I ate for breakfast. Wiping my mouth with the back of my shirt sleeve, I sit back and rest my head against the wall. Taking a few deep breaths, I decide that this is all the time I’ll allow myself to feel sorry for myself and cry over a man who doesn’t care about me or this marriage.

Been there, done that.

Getting up on shaky legs, I walk to the sink and rinse my mouth out. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I visibly flinch at my reflection staring back at me. My eyes are red and puffy, and the mascara that I put on earlier has left black streaks down my face. My hair is a tattered mess.

Grabbing a washcloth, I run it under cool water to wipe the mascara away and to hopefully help my puffy eyes. I try to fix my hair, but it’s no use. It's a stringy mess and I’m in no state of mind to actually fix it. Instead, I grab the elastic that I always wear around my wrist and throw my hair up in my usual messy bun.

Giving myself another once-over in the mirror, I nod my approval to my reflection and head for the door when I suddenly stop.

I can’t go out there. I don’t have a plan yet.

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