Ruined Secrets - Page 75

A fifteen-step distance divides us from our demise, and I have nothing. There’s no way Luca can pull off a whole meal without slipping. Ten steps. There will be high school jokes and mentions of other friends from that time. We’re doomed.

Six steps. The sound of high-pitched laughter reaches me from our right. My head snaps to the side, my eyes finding a blonde woman sitting at the table in the corner, laughing at something one of her friends said. Simona. I never would have thought that seeing Luca’s ex would make me so happy. I could kiss that bitch right now. Two steps. Lorenzo rises from his chair. It’s now or never.

I pull my hand out of Luca’s, turn toward him abruptly, and start yelling into his face. “How could you!”

I stare at Isabella, stunned. What the fuck?

“You did it on purpose, didn’t you?” she continues. “Asking me to accompany you, when you knew she would be here!”

Everyone at the restaurant, including Lorenzo and the blond man with him, have gone deadly quiet. I have no idea who the guy is.

“Isabella, calm down,” I say, reaching for her hand. I don’t know what’s riled her up so much to make a scene with at least sixty people watching.

“Calm down?” she shouts, pointing with her finger to her left. “I know you’ve been cheating on me with your ex, but to insist we come to the same restaurant where you knew she’d be?”

“What?” I look to the table she’s pointing at and see Simona sitting there, looking as shocked as everyone else.

“I let the incident with the maid go,” Isabella keeps shouting, waving her hands through the air. “But this… this is too much! I’m not staying here a second more.”

An incident with a maid? What the fuck is she talking about? We both know it’s utter nonsense. Something’s going on here. From what I know about Isabella—and I think I know her very well by now—she’d never make a fool of herself in front of an audience. Not without a reason.

“Isabella,” I say and try to place my arm around her, but she moves away a step.

“Fuck you, Luca,” she sneers at me and storms toward the exit.

I watch her leave, then turn toward Lorenzo and the blond guy. They too are staring at the door Isabella just went through.

“Looks like you have a problem, Luca.” The blond guy laughs and looks directly at me just as a jolt of pain pierces my brain. I don’t worry about the fact that he knows who I am. Instead, I turn my back to them and head for the exit.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, Lorenzo,” I call over my shoulder and leave the restaurant, stalking after my exhibitionist wife.

I find Isabella standing next to our car, leaning on the door with her eyes closed. Another pang hits me as I walk toward her. When I reach her, I place my hands on either side of her, caging her in against the car.

“You made a fool out of yourself there, tesoro.” I bend until our faces are at the same level.

“I know,” she says, keeping her eyes closed. “And with Simona there to witness it, I’m sure the whole Cosa Nostra will know what happened within an hour.”

“It was because of that guy who was with Lorenzo, wasn’t it?”

“Davide Barbini.” She nods. “You two went to school together. If we’d have stayed, it would’ve been a disaster. We needed an out.”

“So, you made a fool of yourself because of me?” I lift my hand and place it at the back of her neck.

Isabella’s eyes open and she looks at me, holding my gaze. “There are not many things that I wouldn’t do for you, Luca. You should know that already.”

I watch her for a few moments, etching her defiant eyes and stubborn chin on my very being it seems, then I crash my mouth against her lips in a soul-shuttering kiss.

Chapter 23

It happens suddenly as I’m buttoning my shirt the morning of the banquet.

Isabella’s in the bathroom, taking a shower. I woke her up early by sliding my cock into her while she was still asleep. With all the people arriving to make preparations for tonight, she’ll be busy the whole day, and there won’t be any time for us until late into the night. There’s no way I could let her go the entire day without having my cock inside her.

It starts with another sharp pang, but this time the pain doesn’t dissipate right away. Instead, it keeps slashing across my temples in waves so strong I have to sit down on the bed. I squeeze my eyes closed, waiting for it to pass, but the pain keeps building until I feel like my head is going to explode. Then, as suddenly as it started, the pain is gone. I should feel relief, but I can’t move from my spot on the bed while I’m trying to sort out the chaos raging in my brain.

When I allowed myself to consider the possibility of regaining my memory, I always assumed it will be a gradual process—remembering one person at a time, or certain events, randomly. I never expected it to hit me like a sledgehammer, but that’s how it feels. One moment all I know is the last two months of my life, and the next, the past thirty-five years materialize out of nowhere.

The bathroom door opens, and Isabella rushes out, clutching her phone to her ear while she’s adjusting her dress. “Let them in, I’ll be right down,” she says into the phone, then looks at me. “The decoration company is early, I have to go.”