Page 45 of Captive Heart: Armani
A cold laugh escapes me. “There’s a whole lot of things you were supposed to do as my husband, but you never gave a shit about any of it. So no. You can’t guilt trip me into this.”
“Can you set aside your hurt feelings for one goddamnminute?” he rails. “What I’m asking you to do has bigger consequences than your broken heart!”
My breath stops. My muscles go completely still. I don’t think I’ve ever hated Armani as much as I do in this moment.
I’m pregnant with his child, yet he still subjects me to his cruel moods at every turn, his sarcasm and insults and all the other shit he puts me through. And then when he tosses out the tiniest of kindnesses, I basically swoon, all while knowing full fucking well that he doesn’t mean any of it. What’s worse is that he never apologizes for the mess he leaves behind for everyone else to pick up. I’m not even sure he realizes that what he’s doing is wrong. In his mind, it’s all to serve the greater good. The greater good that only benefits him.
But things are different now. I have a baby on the way. I can’t afford to bear the brunt of his bullshit anymore. And I can’t allow an innocent child to spend his or her entire life waiting on breadcrumbs from their ice-cold father. I need to protect my baby no matter what.
“I’m done with you.” The words grind out of my mouth.
He stops mid-pace and whips his head toward me, brows raised, as if I’ve truly shocked him with my bitterness.
“You’re not done with me, wife. Not even close. But that’s a topic for another time. Right now, this situation with Juliana is urgent. Look at me, Cassandra.”
He can order me around all he wants, use the name I hate, try to implement his emotional blackmail and whatever other Machiavellian methods he’s got in his back pocket, but he’ll get nowhere with me. Not anymore.
Rising from the couch, I say, “I’m not lifting a finger to help you kidnap my best friend. I’m done letting you take advantage of me. And I’m done giving any part of myself to you, including my attention. As far as I’m concerned, this six months can’t be over soon enough.”
I lift my chin, daring him with my gaze to come at me again with his excuses and lies.
“Do you want her to die?”
There it is. More manipulation. He doesn’t care if Juliana lives or not, of that much I am dead certain. But he knows that I care about her, and that there was a time I’d do anything for her. Sadly, things have changed. I have a baby to think about now, and sticking my neck out for my best friend—who is also incredibly manipulative, so I guess I have a type?—isn’t a priority to me anymore. It can’t be.
“Why is she so important to you now?” I prod. “You didn’t care this much when I told you she’s your sister, but suddenly you want to go after her, guns blazing. Why?”
He shakes his head. “Not guns blazing. That’s the opposite of what I want to do, which is why I need your help. Look, you know Juliana better than any of us. You’re the only one who can get inside her head. Believe what you want about me, but I don’t want to see her harmed.”
Every instinct inside of me is screaming at me not to help him. And why should Juliana be in any more danger now than she’s ever been in before? She knows how to take care of herself. I’ve no doubt about that. Hell, she made it this far sandwiched between the Italian and Russian mobs. And Armani can try all he wants to get to her, but wherever she is, I’m sure Orloff has her very securely stashed away behind locked doors. The Bellantis don’t stand a chance against an entire Bruno security team and a bunch of Bratva hitmen.
“A week ago you didn’t care what happened to her, Armani. I know you’re not doing this because you’re afraid Bruno will hurt her. You only want to stop the Russian alliance.”
His expression goes neutral. The Resting Bellanti Face is back. But he doesn’t have to respond for me to know the truth: it doesn’t concern him in the least that Juliana might be his blood relative. His only interest in the matter is in stopping Sergio Bruno’s power grab.
Juliana is nothing more to Armani than I am. We’re pawns, pieces to be played and used in these mob men’s war games. If she had died in the bakery fire, she would have merely been a casualty of war to him.
“Can you at least tell me where she might be? Relatives or friends she’d stay with, known safe houses, family properties?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Up until a couple days ago, I didn’t even know she wasalive. I can’t get a hold of her, either, so how the hell would I know where they might have taken her? I have no clue where she is. But even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
He stares at me, assessing me in that cold, calculating way that he does. I can practically see the wheels in his mind turning as he analyzes my body language, the tone of my voice, and every word to see if I’m being deceitful in some way.
“You haven’t heard from her at all? Not even a text?”
“No. You know I haven’t!”
He knows damn well, too, because we’ve talked about it over the past few days, and I’ve expressed how anxious I’ve been not being able to hear her voice and reassure myself that she’s really okay.
A muscle twitches in his jaw. He’s losing patience with me now, but I don’t have the capacity to care. Sliding a hand over my abdomen, some of my anger begins to cool. I press there gently, comfortingly, as if to shield my growing baby from the turmoil all around them. Armani’s gaze tracks to my hand, then back up to my eyes.
“It’s important to keep my stress levels low, and that’s not going to happen if we keep arguing,” I tell him. “So, for the last time, I’ve had zero communication with Juliana since the fire, and my best guess as to her whereabouts is either the Bruno compound or one of Orloff’s places, wherever those might be. I really don’t know.”
“Fine. I’ll find her myself. And when I do, you’ll help me bring her here.”
I shake my head before he finishes his sentence.
“I meant what I said. I will not be involved in any further trauma toward her. She already survived a fire and there’s no way I’m going to take part in a kidnapping. You’re on your own.”
