The Tyrant (Banker #3)(77)

I never orgasmed during sex, and that climax was particularly weak, probably because I knew this man wasn’t the one from the bar. My imagination wasn’t strong enough to truly convince my body that it was experiencing that fantasy.

Lucian finally rolled off me and onto his side of the bed. He lay still, closed his eyes, and was asleep just minutes later.

I lay there, filled with such emptiness that the sorrow nearly swallowed me whole. I’d sold my soul to this man to save someone I loved, but that ended up being a mistake. My life had no meaning, and every day felt worse than the last. There was no point to any of this. I spent my time trying to find something to do because I wasn’t allowed to work or go to school. I just lay by the pool all day in the summer, and in the winter, I took long baths and drank as much liquor as I could.

That wasn’t really living.

I’d contemplated suicide before. There was no way out of this unless he died or I did. But I had two brothers who loved me deeply, and they would never get over my suicide. It would haunt them every single day, even when they reached their seventies. I had to stay for them, no matter how hard things got.

No matter how much sorrow I felt.





The Skull King Chapter 3





Cassini





Lucian bought me a car and granted me a generous amount of freedom—after I fought for those things. I told him our marriage would be much happier if I had the ability to go shopping, to meet friends for drinks, or just to get a cup of coffee while reading a book in a café. There was nowhere for me to hide, so I wasn’t a flight risk.

As the time passed, he stopped being concerned about me.

I think he actually trusted me.

I drove into Florence and entered the large pasta factory my brothers owned. Our grandparents opened it in the early 1900s, and it’d been passed down through the generations until my brothers inherited it. I was part of that inheritance too, but then I married Lucian, and my involvement in the business was eliminated.

I stepped inside the pasta room and saw the different pasta dangling from the drying rack in the center of the table. There were also various cheeses on the wooden table, like they’d been pairing them with the sauces. My brothers oversaw the manufacturing, but they also invented new recipes to accompany the pastas my family had been producing for generations.

Case pushed through the double doors wearing black jeans and a black t-shirt. He had drops of alfredo on his clothing and skin because he must have forgotten to put on his apron. A slight look of surprise entered his gaze when he saw me. “Didn’t know you were stopping by.”

“Do I need to ask my older brother if I can visit him?”

“No. Because if you did, I would always say no.”

I swatted his arm playfully. “How’s it going over here?”

“Same as usual. Business is good. But do you really care? Or do you just want free food?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I don’t just want free food. But…if you just made some pasta, I’ll eat it.”

Case rolled his eyes. “And the truth comes out. Let’s go.” He led me out of the pasta room and into the back area where they had a dining table near the fireplace. The rest of the factory was exactly as someone would imagine it, lots of machines with people working to prepare, package, and label the pasta.

Case prepared me a plate of fettuccini alfredo and placed it on the dining table. “Red or white?”

It was only noon, but it was never too early to drink for our family. “Red.”

He poured me a glass and left the bottle behind, knowing I would want more.

I took a seat and started to eat. “Lucian said I’m gaining weight, but I really don’t care.” I stabbed the pasta, twirled it around in my spoon, and then placed it into my mouth.

Case sat beside me with his papers gathered around. He handled all the bookkeeping for the business, doing the overhead expenses and the payroll. My younger brother, Dirk, was responsible for shipments and factory maintenance. Case had never had a typical office like most people did. He liked to work at the table out in the open—just the way my father had. He didn’t respond to my comment about Lucian. He never talked about my husband, asked about him, or even said his name. He had been strongly against my decision to marry Lucian, and to this day, he was still pissed about it—although I couldn’t blame him.

“How are you guys?” I asked, talking in between bites.

“Nothing new.” He kept working, the strong and silent type. He was just like Father, saying very little, even when asked a direct question. He looked a lot like my father did when he was young. He had that dark, thick hair, green eyes similar to mine, and classically handsome Italian looks. Growing up, all my friends liked him. They liked Dirk too, but since Case was the older one, the girls went crazy for him.

“Are you seeing anyone?”

He didn’t bother answering the question at all.

“Case, you’re always such pleasant company,” I said sarcastically.

“I don’t want to talk about my personal life. I’ve already told you that.”

“Alright, then what do you want to talk about?”

“Nothing, honestly.” He continued with his paperwork.

I didn’t take his standoffish attitude personally because I knew he loved me, but ever since I’d gotten married a year ago, our relationship had changed. He was disappointed in me for the decision I’d made, and he’d never gotten over it. He couldn’t swallow his anger and leave it in the past. He continually wanted me to know he was angry. “You really need to let it go, Case. It’s done. We need to move on.”