Page 7 of Veiled Amor

She sighed, staring at her phone again.

Desperate to turn it on and call the one person she wanted to hear, knowing his voice would calm her.

Though she knew he hated making those calls every week, she never gave him an out.

She wondered if that night never happened, would they have been friends?

Probably not.

The night.

THE. NIGHT.

Arghhhhh… she could never think about it fortoo long,or her brain became frazzled and unfocused.

A few hours of perfect sin.

The decent thing would be to allow Giancarlo off with his obligation.

There had been nothing wrong with anything that night. A few short hours and then Lucia had been forced to live on a diet of memories and one strained phone call each week.

And those were sparingly lacking in any real detail.

She understood about his role in his MC only because she’d looked it up online. There was quite a lot printed about the Renegade Souls. But as far as his personal life went, she knew diddly squat and was frightened to ask if he had a special someone. Living in denial meant, in some small way, Giancarlo could still be hers.

Lucia left a tip on the table, giving a small wave to the diner lady before she left. Giancarlo wasn’t hers, never could be.

She’d begrudgingly married his younger brother because there was no choice in the matter. Why would he want her after that?

But there was one night he wanted her, wasn’t there?

She couldn’t forget that.

Not for a moment.

There was no disputing the day of a mass funeral was not the ideal time for a young widow to fall into bed with an impossible man.

Knowing it was a bad idea to let those thoughts run rampant, but then, Lucia wasn’t all that bright when it came to her heart.

And the thoughts started as they always did.

Going to the beginning.

FOUR

“The widow wore guilt.” - Lucia

On the day of the funeral

Lucia felt awful.

But not for the reasons the mourners thought.

Everyone kept patting her hand, telling her it was terrible. Giving her sympathetic head tilts and perfume filled hugs.

It was unkind, but she wanted to be anywhere but the Mercado house where she was surrounded in tears and despair.

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.