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As we are getting into the Tacoma to get on our way home, I cannot help but notice that her face is completely devoid of expression. She doesn’t give me so much as a glance as she fastens her seatbelt.
As far as I can remember, this honeymoon was perfect. So what could it be?
The engine roars to life as I turn the ignition, taking one last glance at her beautiful face before turning the steering wheel. Could it be that she doesn’t want to leave the suite but doesn’t know how to say it?
I shake my head. Aria has never been one to choose her words carefully when expressing her feelings. She would have said something by now, but she’s been quiet…too quiet.
Or could she be hurt because of the intense sex we had? Did I hit her too hard? Is she in pain? I shake my head again. She wanted it as much as I did. Those moans couldn’t have been solely from pain.
My fingers grip the steering wheel in confusion. Women! Maybe this is another reason why I’ve stayed away from them for as long as possible.
My gaze keeps darting towards her throughout the drive, but her face doesn’t even turn once to catch my gaze. Her eyes are fixed squarely on the road, and she almost doesn’t even blink.
The second the car rolls into the Donatelli premises, she grabs her purse and gets out of the car.
I open my mouth to call her back. I’ve been planning to tell her that we’ll be sharing my bedroom from now on, but words die in my mouth when Cortez emerges from the house, a huge grin on his face.
“Capo, benvenuto(Boss, welcome)!”
Thoughts of Aria’s strange behavior dissipate immediately as I get out of the car and shake Cortez’s hand, happy to see him again. Despite the enjoyable time we had, it’s good to be home.
“So you’re really a married man,” Cortez says, running his eyes up and down my body as if the confirmation of my marital status lies on my navy blue suit.
“I’m a married man indeed, Cortez. You were at my wedding, weren’t you?” My hands reach up to secure the buttons on my jacket as I make my way to the house. “Get the bags and meet me in my study with all the reports from the past two weeks.”
He nods and starts after me.
“Capo, the thing is, Patrick Howard is here to see you. He’s been here waiting since 3 p.m.”
“Today’s a very sensitive day, Cortez. You should have told him so.”
Cortez and I have planned to invite Bruno Moretti over to the mansion to talk business. I’d propose to hand him my ports henceforth, but in return, he’d have to hand in five percent of the profits. The bastard would get comfortable and think we’re talking business when he’d actually be sitting on his own grave.
I glance at my watch. It’s 5:30 p.m. now. I have to find out why Patrick Howard drove half a hundred miles to come and see me when he could have simply called me over the phone.
Patrick Howard hasn’t aged a bit since I last set eyes on him. His round, black face expands into a smile the minute he sets eyes on me. His well-kept beard is all gray now, but his head is still cleanly shaven, and his eyes are still framed by those silver-rimmed glasses.
“Patrick Howard,” I say. His hands grab mine in a firm handshake. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Mr. Donatelli.”
“Please, sit.” My hand flails out, directing him into the chair opposite mine. “Cortez, get those documents ready.”
He knows it’s my way of asking him to leave us, so he lowers himself in a bow and walks out.
“Congratulations on your wedding, Mr. Donatelli,” Howard says with a polite smile. “I didn’t want to intrude, but this couldn’t wait.”
“It doesn’t sound like good news.” After the whole episode with the Frank Paterson case, the unfound Mendez, and the mole, the last thing I need right now is more bad news ruining my mood.
“Whiskey?” I ask, and he understands. If it’s bad, then I’d need good liquor while he spills whatever it is.
Howard shakes his head. “It’s work hours, Mr. Donatelli. I’ll pass.”
My body eases back into my chair, the glass of whiskey in my hand. “Alright then. What’s this about?”
He adjusts his glasses and pulls a tablet from his bag. “I received a notification that someone accessed that case file.”
One of my brows arches a notch higher than usual. “What case file?”