Page 47

“Don’t listen to her, Bianca.”

Griselda’s nose flared as an irritated expression flashed through her face. “You better bet on the winning horse, dear sister-in-law, because their marriage”—she stabbed a finger in my direction—“is a sham.”

“Let’s talk about a sham,” I shot back. “You tried to pawn off a pregnancy on Sandro, and guess what, he doesn’t give a fuck if you’re pregnant or not because he told me the baby is not his.” He didn’t deny not sleeping with Griselda, but it was going to be at the top of my list of questions to ask him.

“And your marriage, Bianca?” Griselda sneered. “You don’t even sleep in the same room.”

“Did you go into my bedroom?”

“I don’t have to. Sandro’s room is still all Sandro without a trace of you.” She laughed in a way that brought back all her jeering from my teenage years.

“Get out,” I said.

“Oh, I will.” She swept past me and opened the door, but she wasn’t done. She turned around again. “Sandro will never touch you. He’ll always think of you like a little sister.”

My mouth wanted to sneer and tell her I just had an orgasm grinding on Sandro’s big, hard cock. But I was selfish about sharing that, even if it might give me pleasure to wipe the mockery off her face.

At my silence, she snorted another laugh. “Just you wait until I tell Uncle Raffa.”

“Maybe you should admit to him first that you’re not pregnant.”

“Oh, he already knows I’m not,” she snapped.

Then it dawned on me. “They’re pissed at you for faking your pregnancy, aren’t they? That’s why you’re trying to redirect their anger toward me and Sandro. To distract them from your lying.”

“Just like Sandro is lying to Uncle Raffa about making this marriage real? You really think I buy that Sandro wants to be the boss for long?” She studied my face, trying to discern the truth, but when I showed her nothing, she gave the whole grand foyer an assessing gaze full of contempt. “Don’t get too comfortable in this house.”

She didn’t bother closing the door, probably so I could hear her triumphant laughter as she walked away from me.

I slammed the door behind her and pivoted to Divina. “Did you know she was here, and that’s why you made the excuse to get us drinks?”

“I was trying to avoid a confrontation.”

“And if I hadn’t come out, would you have kept it from me?”

“I don’t know,” Divina whispered.

“Hey, what’s taking the refreshments…?” Sloane came up and broke off. “What happened?”

“Griselda happened.” I speared Miller with a look. “Where’s Sticks?”

“He went to town to get something,” Miller replied. “Look, I can’t say no to Griselda unless Sandro says so. She’s the club’s manager, so technically, she’s our boss.”

“What a clusterfuck,” Sloane muttered.

“You think?” I retorted. “I’ll talk to Sandro and clear it up.” But nothing was more disheartening than my disappointment with Divina. Was it her fault, though? I’d had enough dealings with Griselda to know her expertise was in stirring trouble. Even fabricating it. Were there really earrings? If she indeed had keys to this house, I was going to demand she give them up. But that was not my immediate concern.

“Sloane, Miller, can you give Divina and me a minute?”

When the two left us, I told her, “Sloane is right. This situation is a mess, and you’re being put in the middle, but you have to choose, Divina. If Sandro fails, Gian will be boss. And you know who he’s in league with.”

She nodded.

“The Philly mob. I’m trying to help. The consequences of Sandro failing are unacceptable to me. He’s been my friend since childhood. If you’re torn about what to do, then you need to have an honest conversation with Tommy. Sandro needs people he can trust, especially with the power struggle going on. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Text Sloane and tell her to meet us in the kitchen.” This encounter with Griselda had left me thirstier and surprisingly hungry. Damn, if I ate my weight in stress, my family would have to roll me out of here in three weeks.