Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“I don’t need to do that.”
“Then I’ll give it to your tech guy. What’s his name? Davide? I’ll go to his office right now—”
“Charlie, wait.”
But I’m already walking away. Determination fills me. If this is what it takes to clear my name, I’ll do it.
It’s obvious why Stefano’s so upset. I took the keycard, and someone used those same credentials to break in here. But it’s just a shitty, unlucky coincidence. I can prove to him that I haven’t been in touch with my grandfather, and I don’t care if that means violating my privacy.
Davide can look at my search history. I don’t even care if he knows I’m looking up why mosquitos drink blood, how to make your knees smaller, what roses smell like to dogs, if kangaroos can jump higher than humans. Actually, all that’s pretty embarrassing, but screw it. I don’t care if they know I think I have big knees.
I march down the hall. Giorgio showed me the tech office and joked about it being Davide’s little computer cave.
“Charlie, stop.” Stefano tries to grab my arm, but I yank myself out of his grasp.
“No, you stop. You’re going to always wonder no matter what I say. But I know I didn’t tell my family anything. Yes, I agreed to spy, and yes, I snooped a little, but I hated myself for it. Now I want you to be sure you’re not married to a liar. Let me give my phone to Davide. Let me do this for you.”
He shakes his head. I can tell he’s not happy about this. But when I turn away and knock on the tech room’s door, he doesn’t stop me.
Davide looks surprised when I march up to him and thrust my phone into his hands. He’s a few years younger than Stefano with sandy brown hair and a handsome face. “Uh, thanks?” He frowns at me. “What’s this?”
“I want you to go through my phone and prove to Stefano that I haven’t been in contact with my grandfather.”
He seems totally bewildered. “Why don’t you let him look through?”
“He won’t do it.”
“You think I will?”
“You don’t know or care about me the way he does. Please destroy my privacy and prove to my husband that I’m not a liar.”
He laughs lightly and leans back in his chair, looking at Stefano for approval. “This is a little weird. But definitely not the weirdest thing I’ve ever had to do here.”
“Give my wife whatever she wants.” Stefano turns away and leaves the room.
“Thanks, Davide.” I hurry after my husband, leaving the phone behind. I catch up with him in the hallway. “Stefano, hold on.”
He turns to me. Frustration is spelled across his face in furrowed brows and pinched lips. I get on my toes and lightly kiss his cheek, which surprises him and makes him relax the slightest bit.
“It’ll be okay,” I promise, turning away. “Come find me at home when it’s done.”
Chapter 26
Charlie
The longer I wait to hear from Stefano, the more I’m thinking this was a terrible idea.
It’s like I let Davide snoop through my most private thoughts. All the dumb, embarrassing crap I search for is going to be his to sift through. And if he’s going to prove that I’m not up to something shady, he’ll have to look at it all.
How fast do toes grow?
Trees that are trees but also weeds?
Snacks but healthy and taste good but not berries.
And on and on. If Stefano gets a glimpse of that stuff, he’s going to think I’m the dumbest woman alive. That’s what I get for offloading half my personality to Google.
But it’s only a few hours later when I hear him come through the front door. I turn off the TV and sit up straight as he rumbles into the living room, his expression clouded. My phone’s clutched in his hand. I jump to my feet, stomach twisting like trees in a thunderstorm.
Based on his expression, this gambit didn’t work that great for me.
I hold out my hands, pulse racing.
“Is everything okay? Davide told you I didn’t do anything wrong, right?”
Stefano looms in front of me. His face darkens as he holds out the phone. I lightly take it from him, feeling sick and scared. Why isn’t he talking? Why isn’t he doing anything but staring at me like that? I need him to know that I made a mistake, but I never actually betrayed him. I didn’t tell my grandfather anything, and I was never going to hand over that keycard.
“Say something,” I whisper, feeling sick. “Please, Stefano. Tell me everything’s okay.”
He reaches out a hand but stops inches from my face. “Give me permission.”
The way he says it breaks something in me. There’s so much desperate yearning in him. And now I realize that consternation wasn’t because of my dumb search history or some red flag I hadn’t realized was there.