Page 49 of His Cursed Heart

I'll turn my wife's ass red. Show her the 'American tan'.

My phone is in the penthouse, so everything I'm doing is useless.

I have to wait until someone comes to clean the hotel room.

My lungs are desperately screaming for a cigarette, and my ass is fucking on fire.

I sit like a fainted man on the sunny sofa on the balcony until I hear a hearty laugh.

Allan wears a white T-shirt and a pair of black sweatpants.

"If you don't let me in, I will put all the sweat on your fancy cologne. All of it." I say through my teeth.

Allan continues to laugh, but he opens the door.

I go into the penthouse and I feel like I can breathe again.

I head towards the bedroom and of course my wife is not here.

"Althea is on her way to Chicago." Allan wipes his tears.

Althea Moretti, well played.

But I'm coming for your fucking soul.

Chicago welcomes me with a sunny weather. It doesn't compare with the one in Italy, but I'll manage.

After a flight of almost fourteen hours, all I want to do is sleep.

And paint.

I haven't touched my canvas in a while; the chaos of the wedding kept me on my last nerves.

I exit the plane and I see a white car waiting for me. I walk down the stairs and Ivan steps out of the car.

"Mrs. Moretti." He nods, opening the door for me.

My blood runs at the way he just addressed me.

It's not a nightmare. The wedding happened.

I am indeed his wife.

I shake my head and I realize that I stare at the open door. I enter and the cool air is refreshing my skin.

"Where to, ma'am?"

"Don't call me that. You're older than me." I say and I roll my eyes.

"Where to?" But he doesn't say my name.

"I guess at my new house. I don't know Chicago at all." Ivan looks at me through the mirror.

"I can show you the city." I raise my eyebrows in

surprise. "Or Boss can." That makes me almost smirk.

"Keaton won't bother us today, but take me to the house." I can't call it 'home'.