Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101101 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 404(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
32
Kane
The moment I step into my house, I know something is off. For one, the guards aren’t manning the door, and it’s quiet … too quiet. Brielle usually has music playing or the TV on, and when I walk inside, the cat usually prances to the door to greet me.
“Brielle,” I call out.
I pull my phone out and call Giani, not wanting to waste any time. If something happened to her, I’ll tear this fucking town apart until I find her. I promised her she’d be safe, and I’m not a liar.
“Sir.”
“Where the hell is my wife?” I ask, cutting right to the chase.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t say.”
I run up the stairs and into our room, but it’s empty.
I check the bathroom, and my eyes land on the engagement ring, still in the soap dish, only next to it is also her wedding band.
She left me.
“Can you at least tell me that she’s safe?” I rasp, emotion clogging my throat.
“She is,” Giani tells me. “We’re with her.”
“Let me talk to her.”
I glance in the closet and find several empty hangers.
She packed a bag and left.
My heart thumps in my chest, the blood flowing through my veins. She’s gone, and I have no way to find her. While I was at the warehouse, interrogating the asshole who dug up my father’s body, she was making her escape.
The worst part is that it was a complete waste of time. The only thing that guy could tell us was that he had been paid to dig up the body and put it on the property. This bitch is a master at flying under the radar so she can play her fucking games.
“She doesn’t want to speak to you, sir,” Giani says after a moment.
“She’s my goddamn wife!” I boom. “Tell her I just need to speak to her for a moment.”
She can’t leave without knowing that I love her, that I’ve been pushing her away out of guilt for forcing her to marry me. She needs to know that I want to be married to her, but that I need for it to be her choice.
“Umm, sir, she said the divorce papers in your office said all that needed to be said.”
Fuck! She found them. But she doesn’t understand the context.
She thinks I no longer want to be married to her when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
“Giani …”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have to hang up now.”
The call cuts off, and I lose my shit. I grab the closest thing to me—a lamp—and fling it across the room so it shatters against the wall.
This isn’t how it was supposed to go down.
I wanted to talk to her, explain where I was coming from, and show her that I wanted to be a better man for her.
I go to my office, and sure enough, the divorce papers, along with the pharmacy bag, are sitting on the fucking desk.
My phone rings, and I answer it without checking to see who it is, hoping it’s Brielle.
“Hey,” Dominick says. “I need you to come to my house.”
“Is Brielle there?” I choke out.
“No, but her studio was vandalized, so I had Eddy pull the cameras, and we know who did it.”
“What?” I bark. “What the fuck do you mean, her studio was vandalized?”
I’m already heading out to my car.
“She got a call tonight from her landlord. Her studio was broken into and destroyed. She asked me to file the insurance claim for her since she’s not in a place to do it herself.”
Fuck. That’s why she was in my office. She was looking for the insurance paperwork.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell him as I drive out of my garage and head toward his place.
When I arrive at Dominick’s house, Matteo’s there, glaring daggers at me.
“Don’t give me that fucking look,” I tell him. “I don’t want to divorce her.”
“So, you, what? Drew up divorce papers for shits and giggles?” Matteo accuses. “Just when I was starting to actually tolerate your ass.”
“I’m not talking to you about this.”
“Yes, you are.” Matteo gets in my face. “You didn’t hear my sister bawling her fucking eyes out because she’d fallen in love with you, only for you to divorce her less than two fucking months later.”
“I’m not divorcing her!”
“Keep your voices down,” Dominick says, strolling into the room. “I have three kids sleeping, and if you wake them up, you’ll be responsible for putting them back to bed.”
He hands me his phone, and I click play, watching as Theodore DeSantis walks into Brielle’s studio and proceeds to destroy it.
“He’s a fucking dead man.” I hand the phone back to Dominick. “Now, tell me where my wife is.”
Matteo snorts out a laugh. “Tell us why you forced her to marry you, only to draw up divorce papers a couple months later.”