Page 63 of When Sinners Hate

Three hours later, I feel at least like I have a grip on my control.

Manicure, pedicure, and a hydrating facial helped mellow my anger.

But in its wake is a sadness that’s more crushing. I sit at the little bistro table and order a glass of red and lunch and watch as the world carries on.

I fire off the message, aiming to provoke him.

Thank you for the spa morning, husband. Any requests for my next spree?

But after I've sent it, I realise it's probably more to do with me wanting to show him he can trust me. We match with our fiery tempers, and sometimes that can be fun, and others, it can be painful.

Lexi, enough.

Not even close, husband.

I told you, come back.

No. You can’t control everything, Abel. Accept that.

I wait for him to respond, but he doesn’t.

What’s wrong? Tracking me down? Going to put me under lock and key again?

Lexi, shut the fuck up

No. I said you can’t control me. If that’s what you want, better go and get your mother to find you some other whore.

As I hit send, I know I’m provoking him, but I can’t help myself. The anger courses through me and builds into a toxic swell inside of me, and I don’t want to restrain it.

What, no come back?

I keep going.

You and your family are sick and you’re a fucking asshole.

I slam the phone down, cross my arms and wait for his comeback.

The red wine tastes like vinegar, and the pasta isn’t much better when it arrives.

My phone vibrates on the table, and I pick it up, anticipating Abel on the other end. But it’s my father.

“What?” I know my bad mood is partly down to his request this morning.

“Alexia. Listen, I understand you’re mad at me, but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need you. You, of all people, know that.”

“You don’t get it, do you? Are you all deaf to the women in your lives?” I complain, immediately realising I’ve shared too much.

“Trouble for the newlyweds?” The gloat in his voice stirs the anger again.

“Goodbye, Father.” I pull the phone away from my ear but can hear him still.

“No, no, don’t hang up. Wait, and just hear me out.”

I push the plate of food away, cross my legs and let my foot bounce with impatience. “I’m listening.”

“This evening. Meet me at Grimaldi’s. It's a casino on–”

“I know where it is. Why?”