Chapter 175

The day passes quickly, mostly because I get caught up in the chaos of Giana’s life – helping her and the children pack for their mini vacation, sorting through the wreckage of the children’s room for lost bathing suits and sunglasses, ordering the fast delivery of sunscreen and other final touches.

When the cab pulls around to the front of the house late that afternoon, it’s quickly followed by the caterers, who are back with dinner. I blink in surprise at this, shocked that I’ve apparently lost a whole day helping Giana organize her trip.

“Thanks for doing this, Iris,” Giana says, surprising me by wrapping her arms around my neck and giving me a tight hug. “It was…a good idea. I think the kids need it.”

“Of course,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a hug back, watching over her shoulder as Ricky and Bella run eagerly down to the cab with their tiny suitcases. Ricky glances over his shoulder though, his expression mixed, his excitement a little at war with his grief.

But Giana lets me go after a final squeeze and draws my attention back to her as she clears her throat, bending down for a moment to pick up Caterina’s little carrier.

“Hey, Iris,” she says softly as she straightens up.

I look at her curiously, because Giana’s voice is gentler and more serious than it usually is.

“Just…” she hesitates, glancing in towards the house. “Keep your wits around you around Elio, okay? He and Lorenzo were very close, so he loves me like a sister. But…he is not a kind man. Especially to women who he doesn’t consider family.”

Her grimace lets me know that I don’t quite fit into that category – at least as far as Elio is concerned.

“Okay,” I say, nodding, a little anxious, likewise looking back into the house. “Thanks, Gi.”

“Anytime,” she says, giving me a sunny smile that I can’t help returning. And then she turns, heading down the stairs towards her children and the cab, ready for a break from this world she’s leaving me behind in.

Unfortunately, as Giana and the cabby fill the trunk with the luggage, there’s no time to think on that, because the caterers start up the front stairs with aluminum trays in their hands.

“Formal dining room, ma’am?” the woman at the front asks, giving me a bright smile.

“Um, no, not tonight,” I say, holding the door open for her and considering that a formal dinner with my husband and his two mafia brothers sounds like the least appealing thing on earth. “Just…in the kitchen please, if you would. I’ll…figure it out from there.”

To my surprise, Frankie’s alone in the kitchen drinking a glass of water when the caterers and I troop in.

“Hi,” he says, giving me a bright smile. “Did you order all of this just for me, Bambina?”

“Oh, don’t think I doubt you, Frank,” I murmur, standing close by him and crossing my arms over my chest as the caterers stack their trays on the counter. “I know you could do some real damage to this loot. But I unfortunately have to feed everyone.”

“Cool,” Frankie murmurs as the last worker places his tray and gives a wave as he heads out the door. “Just let me have whatever they brought for Bella and Ricky and I should be good. Chicken fingers trumps steak tartare any day.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow and then moving to the trays, eager to see what they contain. “Where is everyone else?”

“The Coalition to Take Over the World is meeting again in the big office,” Frankie says, leaning against the counter and watching me work. “Bianca’s gone. Lucy is still…upstairs.”

I flick my eyes up to him, my face grim, wondering if he knows what happened this morning – the event which I haven’t had much time to think on today but which returns in full force now. But the expressionless way Frankie looks at me doesn’t give anything away.

I sigh, looking down at the trays of ribeye steaks, which honestly look delicious.

“I think we’re…each eating individually tonight. Everyone can serve themselves when they’re hungry.”

“Is that what Christian wants?” Frankie asks, resting his chin in his palm.

“Christian didn’t tell me what he wants,” I reply, a little snap in my voice as I move to the cabinet and take down a plate and then begin to fill it with an assortment of the catered food. “This is my call as donna. Everyone can just…figure it out themselves.”

Frankie just nods, perhaps intuiting that I’m in a mood. When I’m finished, I turn sharply towards the stairs and start towards them.

“You gonna eat that in bed, Iris?” he calls.

“No,” I call back over my shoulder, moving swiftly before I lose my nerve. “I’m not hungry.”

If Frankie has anything to say about this, he keeps it to himself.

I walk swiftly down the hall past Christian’s bedroom door, my feet moving quickly so as not to give myself the opportunity to stop. When I get to the door in question, I force myself to raise my hand immediately and rap hard on the wood, not wanting to stop and think about what I’m doing.

The room behind the door is quiet for a moment, but then I hear a rustle of movement, and then soft footsteps as someone comes to the door.

It creeks open just enough for a face to peer out.

Her eyes go wide when she sees that it’s me.

“Hi, Lucy,” I say, my words clipped as I hold out the plate of food towards her. “I brought you dinner. Hungry?”

She just narrows her eyes at me and starts to close the door, but I move too fast for her, shoving my hip against the wood so that she can’t push it shut.

“I’m not fucking hungry, Iris.” Lucy snaps, giving up on pushing the door shut but not letting me open it any further.

“Fine,” I say in return, glaring hard at the woman I thought was my friend. I straighten up a little, still holding the door open with my hip. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, then?”

Lucy’s pretty red lips pull back in a snarl as she narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t you dare fucking judge me, Iris Smith,” she growls. “Until you’ve been in my position? Don’t you dare.”

And then she pulls back and shoves hard at the door – hard enough that I stumble a few steps back as the door snaps shut, the deadbolt clicking soon after it.

I stare, appalled, at the blank expanse of door.

And then, quite suddenly – faster than I thought was possible – an unfamiliar rage builds in my chest. A noise breaks from me – a savage, angry yell – and before I even have a moment to think about it I wind my arm and slam the plate of flood, hard, into Lucy’s bedroom door.

The plate smashes to bits, its crash echoing throughout the hallway, probably throughout the house.

Inside the room there is absolutely no sound, and I relish – just a little bit – the mental image of Lucy standing alone inside, staring at the door, shocked and a little afraid of what I’m going to do next.

But she has nothing to fear, not really. Because I just clench my fists, turn on my heel, and storm away to Christian’s bedroom, leaving the food dripping down the wood of her door into the carpet behind me.

Fuck it.

Let someone else clean it up.

I’m done being the good little wife today.

I slam the bedroom door behind me and strip off Giana’s dress as fast as I can, storming for the shower.

I spend a long, long time sitting on the fancy tiles of Christian’s elaborate shower, with its stupid rainfall head that pours scalding water on me for far longer than a normal hot water heater would last. But he’s rich, so I guess rich people get longer hot showers. I wrap my arms around my knees and just…seethe until I’m good and pruney and tired.

Tired physically, but also tired of…of imagining it. Of seeing again and again Lucy on her knees in front of my husband, touching his leg. Of his hand stroking her hair. Of wondering if…this is my world now. If women are constantly going to be…offering themselves to him.

If he’s ever going to give in and say yes.

When I come out of the shower, exuasted and feeling desperately alone, I quickly change into my pajamas – another set of Christian’s t-shirt and basketball shorts – and climb into bed, pressing my face into the pillow and wrapping the stupid expensive duvet tight around me.

Then, fast than I thought would be possible, I fall asleep.