Page 68 of Forbidden Fruit
Monica ignores me and takes a glass out of the cupboard before filling it with my favourite wine that I keep in the fridge. It’s only 9 in the morning but that’s the least of my concern. The way she walks around the space like she belongs here is. She takes a slow sip, never breaking eye contact, then walks andsits on the sofa, crossing her long legs, one of her arm casually resting on the back of it. “I’m not leaving until my husband gets home. We have much to talk about.”
“Ex-husband, and he has nothing to say toyou.” I spit the last word.
“I’d beg to differ,” she says with a smirk, like I’m out of a salacious joke. But joke’s on her, because I know Lino intimately, down to his darkest desires and why she left. If she thinks I’m a young fling she can walk all over, she’s about to be disappointed.
I advance on her, my own smile predatory and unhinged. Her smile drops, eyes widening, and she uncrosses her legs anxiously. I crowd her until I’m looking down at her.
“Let me be very clear with you, Monica. You don’t know who I am, but I know everything about you. Down to how unfit you are to be a mother and a wife.” It’s a low blow, but I don’t fucking care, too lost in my rage. “I love Lino, and I love Anton and Livia.” She opens her mouth to cut me off but I don’t let her and raise a hand before she can spew any bullshit at me. “Don't even think about talking over me. You’re not here for Lino. If you are, it’s to hurt him and I won’t allow it. If you still haven’t sued him for this house or anything he fucking owns, you know it’s because you don’t have a leg to stand on. If you’re here for Anton and Livia, I’m sure we can find a way for them to see you, and that would be gracious of Lino. But you and I well know that a judge would never give you an inch, given that you fucking abandoned them for eight months.”
Her hands tremble and her teeth clench, rage obviously bubbling under the surface. I thought she was beautiful at first, but the pretty package she’s wrapped in doesn’t hide the ugliness of her soul. She downs her glass and places it on the coffee table.
I take a step back to allow her to get up and leave.
“You’ll hear from my lawyer,” she warns before stomping to the entrance, but I follow after her.
“Monica. Leave the key.”
She huffs and unclasps the key to the house from her designer key holder before slapping it on the console table with a resounding smack. “Count your days, little girl.” She tries to scare me, but she doesn’t know what hell I come from. Nothing she says can scare me away from the Marquesi.
I open the door and smile, my lips turned in a sinister sneer. “Please do remind your lawyer that he’s not only going against the Marquesis, but the Morettis and Bartolis as well.”
I watch as she power-walks out of the mansion grounds, pettily satisfied when her stilettos get stuck into the gravel. When she’s gone, I close the door then go back into the living room and collapse onto the sofa, my energy drained to its last drop. And it’s not even 10 am.
I massage my temples, trying to get rid of the headache this woman just gave me. Lino’s worth putting up with this nightmare for. Anton and Livia are worth it, too. As much as I hate it and begin to hate her, she’s still their mother and if she’s back after so long, she wants something. I don’t want Lino and the children to go through more heartbreak, so I pick up my phone and dial the only person I know who can help me.
“Vanessa, how can I help you?” Alana’s low voice filters through the phone, reminding me that she’s a ruthless woman who can kill in a blink of an eye.Allegedly.
“Monica is back,” I tell her.
“I know. My husband has been trying to contact Lino for days now.”
“What?”
She sighs heavily. “He and Lino work closely together and Lino asked Lisandru,”—I gather it’s her husband's first name—“to find her. He did, but he’s in the UK right now and tried tocall Lino, but the fool isn’t answering.” Aggravation spills into her voice and my need to defend him rises up again.
“He’s fighting his own demon, Alana. He doesn’t need this shit.”
“Careful, Miss Winfrey,” she warns.
“Sorry, sorry.” I tug on my hair. “Lino isn’t well, Alana, and this won’t help. I don’t know what to do, but I need your help with Monica.”
“Leave her to me. If she files for anything, I’ll be the first to know. Is there anything else?” she asks.
“Actually, there is. Lino needs to take time off.”
After she agrees, Alana and I hang up and I call my best friend, who I hope will help me find the help Lino needs. Jade’s been living here forever and has been in therapy for a while. She spoke to me more openly about it as we started going on weekly lunch dates and grew closer. She was busy with her own drama over the summer, so I haven’t seen her in two weeks and I’m dying to know if her situation has changed but I need to care for Lino more.
After a few texts and a promise to catch up with her this weekend, she gives me the number of Dr Armand, her therapist, but before we can move forward, I need to talk to my man.
My heart thumps in my ears and I wipe my clammy hands on the sides of my flowy dress before entering the bedroom without knocking. My eyes take a moment to adjust to the dark, the curtains still pulled closed, but when they do, I see Lino’s unmoving form.
I wipe the stray tear that escapes the corner of my eye and walk to him before sitting next to him. His breathing is ragged and shallow. With soft fingers, I caress his cheek and glide my fingers through his hair.
“Lino,” I call out. “Baby, wake up.”
“What time is it?” His voice sounds raw and unused.
“It’s eleven forty.”