67

ALESSANDRO

My teeth clenched, the sound of grinding breaking the silence. I watched my wife dance with Ethan Stone and my fingers itched for my gun.

Anger burned beneath my skin, searing the flames to all-time highs. The irrational part of me thundered in my ears, edging me on.

Go ahead and smash his head.

Red crept into my vision, and it took all I had not to smash every single item in Enzo’s office.

The dance floor was crowded and each time someone bumped into Lorena, she inched closer to Ethan. I hated that fucking guy’s guts.

My wife looked happy, carefree and beautiful, startlingly beautiful, her hair long and dark even in the dark of the nightclub. The young girl of twenty-one was gone, and in her place was this woman who was sure of herself; she knew what she liked and what she wanted.

Definitely not me. It didn’t matter though. She’d get only what I say or offer. And she’ll fucking like it.