Page 134 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
She froze, then followed, heels clicking urgently on the marble floor. "I care about you! What if she has bad intentions? What if she's sent by your enemies—"
My steps faltered.
"I know her," I said, voice flat. "And I trust her more than I trust you."
Bianca's face flushed red from neck to ears.
"Ezio, what do you mean?" Her voice trembled. "I've done so much for Juliet."
My feet finally stopped. I turned and looked at her coldly.
"What have you done?" I said quietly. "Bossed the staff around? Talked trash about her mother in front of Juliet? Or interfered in my household affairs under the title of godmother?"
"I-I was just trying to help you."
"I don't need your help."
"Ezio!" Her eyes reddened, tears pooling. "I know you still think about that woman, but she's been gone five years! She doesn't care about you or Juliet! Are you going to hurt me by getting close to other women just to spite her?"
"She left because of me," I said, every word clear. "I drove her away."
Bianca froze. Tears hung on her lashes without falling, mouth slightly open, like she couldn't believe what she'd heard.
"As for you, Bianca," I looked into her eyes, "you'd better remember your place. You're Juliet's godmother. That's all."
Her lips trembled, tears finally falling down her cheeks. But this time I didn't soften. Five years ago, I'd tolerated her out of guilt, lether meddle in family affairs, arbitrarily punish staff, and say those things in front of Juliet. I wouldn't tolerate it anymore.
"Who is that woman?" Her voice was hoarse, carrying a last trace of unwillingness.
"None of your business."
"Ezio!"
"Get out," I said.
She stared at me, teeth biting her lip, leaving a white mark. Her chest heaved violently.
"You'll regret this," she said, voice soft, but I could hear what lay beneath—not sadness, not disappointment, but something more vicious, more dangerous. "You'll regret this."
Then she turned, grabbed her bag from the sofa, and stumbled toward the door.
Her heels made a chaotic clatter on the marble. The door slammed shut.
I stood in the living room, staring at that door for a long time.
Then I turned to the intercom and pressed a number.
"Sir?" Carmen's voice came through.
"Send Emily to me."
"Yes."
Minutes later, a knock sounded. I said enter, and Emily walked in. She was a kitchen helper who'd worked here a year.
"Sir," she stood in the doorway, nervous. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yeah." I turned to face her. "How long have you been feeding information to Bianca?"
