I Faked an Affair on My Mafia Husband ,Now He Won’t Let Me Go Chapter 07

I Faked an Affair on My Mafia Husband ,Now He Won’t Let Me Go Chapter 07

Bea whispered: “So Ian was someone you hired. No wonder I kept running into him everywhere. I thought it was fate.”

Lorenzo shot to his feet. “That’s enough. Shut up.”

Bea stood up too, eyes blazing. “So you never liked me at all. You just picked my dream guy and threw him in my path. I don’t owe you anything. The Conti family doesn’t owe you—”

“SHUT UP!” Lorenzo’s voice cracked. He couldn’t even drown her out as she kept going, cold and relentless—

“My sister doesn’t owe you anything!”

Lorenzo’s chest heaved. He looked weak. Punched in the gut.

Like a snail with its shell ripped off, baking in the sun, pale and suffocating.

“Right. My sister doesn’t owe you. The business deals from the marriage are done. If she wants to leave, what right do you have to force her to stay?” Bea’s voice was a whip crack.

She actually made the man who looked down on everyone from his throne of deals and power speechless.

Lorenzo was shaking. His fists clenched. “I just said no.”

His eyes were red. He glared at Bea like his life depended on it—and didn’t dare look at me even once. “I just said no!”

He called me a child earlier, I thought. But right now, he’s the one acting like a brat.

Bea stood in front of me like an angry mama bear, ready to gore him with her horns. “You think just because you have money, everyone has to dance for you? My sister is a living, breathing human being, not a tool for you to control!”

“Lorenzo, you want to play your mind games? Your power plays? Do it at your company. Leave a college student alone.”

He opened his mouth—pale, helpless.

I wanted to say: He doesn’t torture me. He just never looks at me. Never touches me. Never loves me. That’s what hurts.

Bea got angrier.

“Look at the way she’s been living! Your bedroom door’s been broken for who knows how long. You’re so rich and powerful and you can’t even fix that?

“You stepped on her separation agreement.

“Did you ever treat her like a wife? Did you ever treat her well? Vieve’s so pitiful she had to ask me to buy her a SIM card!”

Ice shot down my spine. Every hair on my body stood up.

One word echoed in my head: Fuck.

Lorenzo’s fragile composure snapped.

His pupils blew wide. “What did you say?”

I grabbed Bea’s arm, terrified. Oh God, oh God, please STOP, SIS—

Bea looked at me, confused, then gave me a scolding look like I was a spineless child.

“What? Is De Luca going to pretend to care now? My little sister—everyone says she hit the jackpot marrying into the De Luca family—and when I asked what she wanted from Barcelona, she just asked for a SIM card. Pathetic. Like she was afraid to ask for anything more!”

No, no, no—

I was shaking so hard I couldn’t even look at Lorenzo.

The silence in the room stretched. Long enough to hurt.

Bea finally sensed something was wrong. “What? What’s the big deal about a SIM card?”

Lorenzo laughed. Short. Hollow.

“Nothing,” he said softly.

His voice dropped lower.

I felt a hot stare on me—burning through my skin, prickling like needles.

He said, so soft: “It’s all my fault, Beatrice. I’m sorry.”

Just like that, all the rage was gone. He was calm. Apologetic.

Bea was thrown off. “Don’t—don’t give me that act. That’s fake.”

Lorenzo: “You’re right. It’s all my fault. But Beatrice—my wife and I need to talk alone. Give us some space.”

He gently but firmly shooed her out.

The moment the door clicked shut—

I knew I was a dead woman walking.

Click. Like a starting pistol.

I ran upstairs, straight for his room.

My only thought: his door locks from inside! Not thinking about the bed in there. Not at all.

Lorenzo was faster.

I almost had the door shut when he stuck his hand in and pushed it open. Looked down at me.

Closed the door. Locked it. Pulled his sweater off one-handed.

Cornered me against the bed.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m SORRY—”

“Too late.”

“I won’t get a divorce!”

After that little scene, it was obvious even to me. He’d never seen me as a stand-in. He might even like me.

Maybe… maybe I could stick around. See how things went.

Lorenzo nodded slowly. “Don’t even think about it.”

He pushed me onto the bed, eyes locked on mine, and kissed my neck like an animal getting revenge.

“Hickeys, huh? Calling me man, telling me to give you my wife? Pretty brave, huh? Man.”

He kissed me again. And again. All that jealousy he’d been choking down for days came pouring out—so thick it turned into hurt.

But he’d never been good at emotions. He always tried to control them. So he just kissed me until he felt like he’d gotten enough strength from me.

Then I heard it. Soft.

“I do love you. I just… couldn’t say it. Because I was scared you’d say you don’t love me back.”

He held me tight.

I waited a long time. Then, carefully, I reached up and held him back.

His spine shook.

After a while, he whispered: “Vieve… can you say it again? ‘Daddy, hold me’?”

I couldn’t take it. “Go away.”

He didn’t go away. He came closer. Closer. Super close.

And this time, nobody rang the doorbell.

I watched him put real hickeys over every spot where I’d faked mine.

Only then did I realize—he’d memorized that photo. Looked at it a hundred times, full of jealous rage.

The curtains floated in the breeze.

Sunset. Then sunrise.

Half-asleep, I looked up.

Tucked away in the corner of his desk, hidden like a secret—

Was my bag of missing cookies.