Page 46 of Captive Bride: Armani
Just then, Dante walks into the room and the atmosphere instantly changes. He looks me over impassively as he goes to his wife and gives her a kiss on the temple.
“How’s it going in here?” he asks.
“Good. Did you come to help fold a hundred pairs of tiny socks?”
He glances at me again. Dante has always been civil to me, professionally cordial if not friendly. But never outright cold. He’s as welcoming as an ice storm at the moment.
“No, but if you leave them out for me I can get it taken care of after work,” he says.
Frankie laughs. “So serious, always! I was just kidding. Candi’s been a huge help.”
He moves closer to his wife, partially blocking her from me with his body.
“Actually, Candi, don’t you have to go handle that order at the winery?” he says.
Tension sparks in the air. What the hell is up with him? Setting down the little shirts I was folding, I run my daily schedule through my mind.
“Which order? I thought I was all caught up with—”
“You might want to go check on that,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.
O—kay. I can take a hint. Putting on my best happy-go-lucky smile, I ride out a wave of cold tingles down my spine. Does he know something?
“I’ll get right on it,” I tell him. “Frankie, I had a great time with this…bootie-call.”
I pick up a pair of baby booties and dangle them to emphasize my lame joke, and Frankie cracks up. Dante doesn’t, but oh well. My friend has a smile on her face, and that’s what matters.
With a little wave, I leave the room, keeping my pace casual and unbothered. But I don’t take a full breath until I exit the house and get back in my car, shaking as I turn the key in the ignition. The whole short drive from the far end of the Abbott property back to the Bellanti compound, I can’t stop worrying. What if he suspects I’m responsible for the warehouse fire? What if he doesn’t believe it was Kaspar? What if I’m in deep shit?
Taking my time strolling to the winery offices, I try to shake off my anxiety, but I can’t. After grabbing a cup of coffee from the break room, I go to my office to double-check that nothing has been left on my desk or in my email inbox that needs taking care of.
Nothing. There’s no order, and absolutely no reason for me to be in the offices today. My work is caught up, I didn’t miss any calls, and I haven’t been assigned anything else.
Dante simply wanted me out. But why? Fuck.
Sitting in my chair, I’ve just set down my mug as Armani walks in. My anxiety shoots up another notch when he shuts the door behind him and pins me with his gaze.
“What have you been up to this morning?” he asks, nearing my desk.
“Um. Helping Frankie in the nursery. But I saw Dante, and he was acting really—”
“I’m sure it was nothing. He’s been under a lot of pressure with the baby coming, is all.”
“It seemed like it was more than that.”
“It’snot,” Armani barks. “Just let it go, Candi. It’s not anything that concerns you.”
He passes off something close to a smile. The back of my neck prickles. Taking a sip of coffee, I try to convince myself that I’m just being paranoid. Of course Dante is on edge about Frankie and the baby. Childbirth is terrifying.
“You know, I’m also going to have to learn to be a family man,” he goes on. “‘Uncle Armani.’ Hard to imagine it.” He laughs. “Speaking of family, I’ve never actually met yours.”
Coffee sloshes over the side of the mug as I fumble my grip on the cup.
“No, you haven’t,” I say, “and I’d prefer it if stayed that—”
“I think it’s time,” he says firmly. “I’d love to meet them.”
All my breath squeezes out of me. I blink, hoping that this is his idea of a joke. There’s nothing I want less in this entire world than to introduce Armani, or anyone in my life, to my family. My loud, uncivilized, completely mannerless family.
