Page 36 of Violent God

“I’m going to give that boy a piece of my mind when he returns.” She sits next to me, reaching for my hand. “Now, what would you like for dinner?”

“I’m really not very hungry.”

Surprisingly, it’s the truth. Today has been a whirlwind of ups and downs and food has been the last thing on my mind.

“You need to eat, dear. How about some comfort food?”

I’ve only known this woman for a few hours and can already tell that she won’t let this go. If she thinks I need to eat, I’m going to eat.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“I’ll let Chef know.”

She gives my hand a squeeze before leaving me to my thoughts.

What on earth could take Alessandro away on his wedding day? I snort. Well, that right there is my first problem. This isn’t a real marriage, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that he left. This takes me back to the question that I asked him that he never did answer. Why? Why did he stop my wedding? Why did he marry me? Why am I here all alone?

I’m deep in thought when Donna returns with a tray. There’s soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. I glance up at her to find her smiling.

“My children always liked this when they weren’t feeling well. I know it’s not the same, but I thought it might help.”

I smile. “My Nonna used to fix the same when I was sick. It’s perfect.”

I might not be sick, but I’ve certainly felt better. An ache has settled between my legs from where Alessandro and I had sex. Each movement reminds me of what we did…of how easily I gave in to him. And he’s not even here, so I can give him a piece of my mind.

My eyes water as I lift the sandwich, taking a bite.

Donna says, “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me, Mrs. Moretti.” She gives me another kind smile. “No need at all.”

When she’s gone, I push the tray aside. If I had my phone, I could at least scroll on social media. But no. All I can do is think about why I’m here and, as I established on the jet with Alessandro, my mind always jumps to the worst-case scenario. I mean, really…what does someone like him get out of marrying me? Sure, we have a small connection from where we met a decade ago, but that’s not enough of a reason to freaking marry someone.

So why did he do it?

Leaning back, I close my eyes. Why didn’t I fight harder? Not just when he showed up at the wedding, but before. Why didn’t I tell my father that I wouldn’t marry Giosuè? Why didn’t I tell Gia my mind when she was mean to me for all those years? Why have I always just gone along with things?

I will not get any life-changing answers tonight, so I grab the control for the TV and turn on an old episode ofFriends. Reaching for my sandwich, I take another bite and allow myself to not think about anything.

An hour later, I’m fighting yawns left and right and can barely keep my eyes open. Donna showed me Alessandro’s room when I first arrived, but I don’t think I can sleep in there. Not because he’s not here, but because It means something that I’m not ready to admit. Once I sleep in there, I’m his wife. Like, I know I’m technically married to him, but this will make it feel…final.

Lifting the phone next to the couch, I wait for Donna to answer.

“Yes, dear?”

“Can I speak to you, please? I’m still in the living room.”

“I’ll be right there.”

I try not to fidget when she arrives. I mean, I have every right to ask what I’m about to ask.

“I’m ready to go to bed.”

“Of course. Let me show you to your room.”

“Wait. That’s not what I mean.” I push myself onward. “Is there another room? A guest room, perhaps?”

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