Page 51 of The Almost One

I’ve been called a lot of things in my life, but coward was never one of them. Yet, here we are. Here, I am, scared of telling my wife, who finally—fucking finally—told me she loves me. Even if those words were thrown at me like a fucking bazooka instead of being lovingly placed on my lips.

I have everything to lose and if—no, when—I drop my bomb into her lap, it will literally change everything in her life.

Everything she ever thought to be true.

She may never forgive me for this, which is why I need to make sure contingencies are in place in case she decides to finally demand an annulment and walk away for good.

Fuck, the thought has bile rising up my throat.

Opening my eyes and turning my head to the side, I smile at the sight of my beautiful wife sleeping like the dead. She was pissed last night when I didn’t show any signs of opening up the valves and letting the truth rush into our lives. At one point, I thought she’d given up the silent treatment as she slowly undressed in front of me and slid between the sheets of our marital bed. When I reached out for her, she placed a soft hand on my cheek and asked, “Are you ready to tell me everything?” When I didn’t answer, she just shook her head and turned her back on me.

My punishment was having to sleep next to the most enticing woman in the world and not be allowed to touch her.

Message received, Tesoro. Message received loud and fucking clear.

After this morning’s meeting, I’ll have all my men in place and she’ll be safe, with no more secrets between us. That’s when I’ll know my fate. That’s when I’ll know if we’ll survive this.

Slipping out of our bed as quietly and softly as humanly possible, I take out a clean suit, socks, and boxer-briefs before heading to the bathroom for a shower.

When I exit the bathroom, a towel resting low on my waist, my gaze naturally goes straight to our bed, expecting to see a sleeping River, all wrapped up in the down comforter. Instead, the bed is empty and my wife is nowhere to be found.

After dressing and taking my gun out from my safe, I brave my way downstairs, where I’m guessing River is praying to the gods of coffee.

I hesitate when I see her curled up with Bruce in the corner of the couch, her glare a living, breathing thing. We stare at each other, unspoken words like an ocean of regret.

I don’t know how to fix this right now, so I just nod and as I turn on my heel, she grunts like she wants to rip my balls off and serve them to Bruce for a morning snack.

With Enzo driving and two men from his security team following behind us, we head out to Long Island on a rare day of open roads and little traffic. Thank fuck for Sunday mornings.

“She’s there, waiting for us.”

I look at my right-hand man, thankful he can practically read my mind.

“Good.” I’m accessing the warehouse cameras to make sure there aren’t unwanted cars parked nearby or any stragglers hanging around the property. We’ve kept this place secret for a long time. We store our product here, our guns and our torture room. It’s why we bought so much real estate in this area. It keeps the area secluded and empty of prying eyes.

Officially, it’s a building we’re planning to destroy in order to build something new and shiny in its place. In reality, it’s low-key and useful when I don’t want to be seen.

“You should have told her from the start. You know that, right?”

Fuck, not this again.

“Like you should have told me my sister spends her free time pole dancing for old pervs?” I raise a brow in question, even though his eyes are on the road ahead and can’t see the challenge in my features.

“There was nothing to tell. She was safe.”

A man of few words, this asshole.

I’m about to tell him he’s supposed to be reporting to me with any and all of the shit happening when my phone rings. Stefano’s number flashes on my screen and I know for a fact that it has to do with River.

“Mancini.”

“Signore, vostra moglie vuole sapere dove si trova.” Of course she does. I can’t help the smile that creeps up the corners of my lips at the thought that even when she’s angry, she still wants to know where I am. Granted, it’s because she wants to torture me and maybe even kick my ass up and down the marble floor, but still.

She loves me and I need to hang on to that.

“Dille che ho un appuntamento.” Enzo snorts beside me and I shake my head. Fucker. It’s not a lie, I do have a meeting, it's just not for business in a classic sense.

“Bene, Signore. A più tardi.” I will, indeed, see him later. And River, for that matter. As soon as this meeting is over, she and I will be having a difficult conversation.

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