THWACK!
I smashed my racket against the tennis ball. It sailed over the net and came within inches of slamming into Dante’s face.
He returned it with a scowl. “Are you playing tennis or trying to send me to the hospital?” he demanded. “That’s the third time you’ve almost broken my nose. I’m starting to take it personally.”
“Quit if you can’t handle it.” I delivered another shot, my breaths even despite the sweat pouring down my back. “I won’t hold it against you.”
Dante responded with a powerful backhand that echoed across the grounds. He and Kai vented their frustrations through boxing, but our tennis matches were almost as therapeutic.
The sun beat down on Valhalla’s outdoor tennis courts. It was an unusually hot day for mid-November, and we were taking full advantage of it before the weather slid into the depressing gray that characterized New York winters.
For once, I didn’t have a lunch meeting, but I’d skipped “getting some rest” as my chief of staff suggested and dragged Dante to the club. I needed to keep busy because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Alessandra.
Alessandra, her face streaked with tears.
Alessandra, on a date with that fucker Aiden and his stupid fucking beard.
Alessandra, laughing and talking with him like she was already moving on when I’d been slowly dying inside for the past six weeks, five days, and four hours.
Part of me had hoped she’d call the whole thing off after I signed our divorce papers. It’d been a foolish hope, but it’d been hope all the same, and there’d been a moment—one tiny moment—when she’d hesitated. Then she’d taken the papers and walked out.
I’d signed countless contracts that had brought me riches beyond imagining, but for once, I’d had to sign one giving up the most important person in my life. Something wrenched at my chest as the ball sailed toward me. This time, I hit it with so much force the impact reverberated through my entire body. It went wide and smashed into the water pitcher on the sidelines. Glass shattered, followed by the clatter of Dante’s racket on the ground.
“That’s it,” he said. “We’re done for the day.”
“Glad you can finally admit you’re a quitter, Russo.” Alessandra’s face shimmered in the heat waves dancing over the court before I blinked it away.
I’d thrown myself into work even deeper than usual since our divorce, but no matter how many meetings I took or how many numbers I crunched, I couldn’t keep her off my mind. She was always there, taunting me. Torturing me. Making me wish I could turn back time when time was the one thing I had no power over.
Part of me craved any glimpse of her while another part dreaded it because it reminded me too much of what I’d lost. Seeing her unexpectedly was bad enough; seeing her with fucking Aiden nearly killed me. It’d taken all my willpower not to punch him in his smug, bearded face.
“I’m not a quitter. I’m pragmatic. I have a dinner date with Vivian, and if I miss it because you can’t aim properly, we’ll both be pissed,” Dante said, drawing my attention back to the present. He flicked a glance at where
a club staffer was already cleaning up the shattered glass. “You’ve been on edge the entire damn game. It’s Thanksgiving week. Lighten up.”
It was ironic that the notoriously grumpy Dante was telling me to lighten up, but marriage changed everyone, I supposed.
“Fuck Thanksgiving.” There wasn’t much to give thanks for. Besides running into Alessandra on her date last week, I had to deal with my missing foster brother. Roman had disappeared since the restaurant debacle in October, and even the shadier side of my network couldn’t find him. But he was still in New York. I could feel it. Rather than reassuring me, his radio silence loomed like the ominous calm before a storm.
“I thought you and Vivian were headed to Paris tonight.” I switched subjects before I spiraled down into the shit show of my personal life. “Or are you staying in town for the weekend?”
“Alessandra’s goodbye drinks are tomorrow, so we postponed— ” Dante cut himself off, but it was too late.
I stilled. “What goodbye drinks?” The quiet words bounced off the clay courts.
The other man’s face shuttered.
“What goodbye drinks?” I repeated, strangling the handle of my tennis racket. A familiar buzz drilled into my head, and my heart picked up a pace that would give my doctor a coronary.
“Alessandra’s leaving for Brazil tomorrow morning,” Dante finally said. I relaxed an inch. “For the holidays.” She always visited her mom and brother for Christmas. Not so much for Thanksgiving since that wasn’t a
holiday in Brazil, but maybe she needed another getaway this year.
“Not exactly.” Dante looked like he would rather be anywhere but here. “It’s a one-way ticket. Vivian doesn’t know when she’ll be back.”
 |
One-way ticket…doesn’t know when she’ll be back.
Dante’s words haunted me through the night and into the following morning, when I sat at my desk and stared at the market numbers on my
computer without really seeing them.
The office was a ghost town the day before Thanksgiving, which made it one of my favorite days to work. However, I couldn’t focus on the SEC investigation into DBG or any of the investment accounts in my portfolio.
Alessandra couldn’t be moving to Brazil. My private contractor had confirmed she was headed to Buzios, where her mother owned a house, but she’d just rented a storefront in Manhattan, for Christ’s sake. One did not break a commercial lease in that neighborhood without paying an arm and a leg. Still, the idea of her flying thousands of miles away with no return date made my throat close.
How had I ever willingly spent so many hours away from her when I would give up my fucking kidney for a moment alone with her again? Why had I been more afraid of losing everything else instead of losing her?
I’d given Alessandra space since the divorce because it was too early to reach out. The emotions were too raw for both of us, and I needed time to figure out how to win her back. I’d signed the papers, but that didn’t mean I’d given up on us. Not by a long shot.
Every end came with a new beginning. I just had to make sure we started over together.
My cell rang, dragging me from my thoughts. I cursed at the caller ID. That damn unknown caller again. I should stop picking up, but curiosity got the better of me every time.
As always, silence greeted me.
Annoyance flared, and I gritted out a warning. “If you don’t stop calling, I— ”
“Keep an eye on your brother.” The voice was so distorted, I couldn’t distinguish its gender. “Or you’ll be next.”
The soft click of the call ending filled the line before I could answer. I cursed again and tossed my phone on the desk.
I’d had my guy look into the calls, but whoever was behind them was skilled enough to make them untraceable.
Fucking Roman. It had to be him. He’d used to pull similar stunts all the time until our foster mother had whipped him within an inch of his life for
racking up the phone bill. I also wouldn’t be surprised if he’d picked up some black-hat tech tricks over the years. He was a fast learner. It was too bad most of what he learned involved some type of lying, cheating, or manipulation. I didn’t know what game he was playing at now, but I was damn sick of it.
A knock sounded at the door.
“Sir?” Martha entered, her expression hesitant. Her behavior had been much more subdued since I’d chewed her out for the way she’d treated Alessandra. “Your eleven o’clock is here.”
“I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
I’d forgotten about my meeting this morning. The thought of sitting and smiling through an hour of bullshit suddenly made me want to crawl out of my skin.
I loved the city. The noise and people drowned out the voices in my head; the breakneck pace prevented me from dwelling on any one moment too long. I found safety in the chaos, but Alessandra’s absence and Roman’s presence had upended my neat, ordered world. The only reason I wasn’t in a constant panic was because I had a discreet security team guarding Alessandra in the city and another one watching out for Roman.
It’s Thanksgiving week. Lighten up. Dante’s advice echoed through my head. The bastard was a pain in my ass half the time, but he occasionally had good insights. After all, he was the one who’d inspired part of my Win Alessandra Back plan.
I waited until the door closed behind Martha before I opened a new tab on my browser.
I couldn’t believe I was even contemplating doing what I was about to do. It was so far-fetched, so out of character, that I felt like someone else was piloting my movements as I navigated to a familiar website.
But dammit, I wanted my wife back, and if that meant taking drastic action, then so be it.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t overthink or dwell on the fact I’ve never missed a single work meeting before. I simply clicked on the blue button, input my payment details, and bought a one-way ticket to Brazil.
