Chapter 2
The gala wound down slowly, the crowd thinning as the most influential guests departed with handshakes and pleasantries. Carmen remained the perfect hostess, her demeanor flawless even as her mind churned with unease.
Marco had been elusive all evening, lingering on the edges of the ballroom with Arianna weaving in and out of his orbit like a flame that refused to be snuffed out.
From across the room, Carmen caught sight of them again. Arianna was laughing, her hand brushing Marco’s arm in a way that made Carmen’s stomach twist. Marco leaned in to say something, his face softening in a way Carmen hadn’t seen in weeks.
The sight cut through her composure. She turned to one of the waitstaff, handing off her glass with a practiced smile. “Please see that Mr. Ricci receives the donation ledger before he leaves,” she said before slipping toward the hallway that led to Marco’s study.
She had no intention of waiting until morning.
…
Carmen waited in the darkened study, her nerves stretched tight. The space was a testament to Marco’s power—mahogany shelves lined with books, an intricately carved desk, and a single chair positioned with its back to the large window that overlooked the estate.
When the door finally opened, Marco entered with his usual air of command, but the moment he saw her, his expression hardened.
“Carmen,” he said, shutting the door. “It’s late. What are you doing in here?”
Her voice was calm but sharp, like the edge of a knife. “We need to talk. Now.”
Marco sighed heavily, moving toward his desk. “Can it wait until morning?”
“No, it can’t.” She stepped in front of him, her emerald gown trailing slightly as she blocked his path. “What is Arianna De Luca doing here, Marco?”
His expression hardened instantly. “I told you already. It’s business.”
“Business?” Carmen’s voice rose slightly, though she forced herself to keep it controlled. “You expect me to believe that? After everything we’ve been through with her? After tonight?”
Marco’s jaw tightened. “You’re making too much of this.”
“Am I?” she shot back, her eyes narrowing. “Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like you and Arianna were awfully cozy tonight. People were talking, Marco. Do you know what they’re saying?”
The words cut deep, and Carmen’s expression shifted, anger flashing in her eyes. “How dare you,” she said quietly, her voice trembling not with fear, but with rage.
Marco opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand, stopping him.
“Do you have any idea what I’ve done for this family? What I’ve done for you?” she said, her voice low but intense. “When we got married, I didn’t just sit back and enjoy the perks of being Mrs. Venetti. I worked. I built connections. I earned respect from people who wouldn’t have given you a second glance. And when things got messy—when people tried to tear us apart—I stood by your side. I cleaned up your messes. I protected you.”
Marco’s anger faltered for a moment, but she didn’t stop.
“And now, because I dare to question you, you want to call me jealous? After everything I’ve done to prove I’m on your side?” She took a step closer, her voice shaking with emotion. “I’m not some naïve girl who doesn’t understand the stakes here, Marco. I’m your wife. And I deserve better than this.”
His jaw clenched as he looked away, his frustration evident. “You don’t know the whole story, Carmen. There’s more to this than you realize.”
“Then tell me,” she demanded, her voice firm. “If there’s more, tell me. Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re letting her back in, and I don’t understand why.”
Marco hesitated, his eyes meeting hers. For a moment, she thought he might tell her the truth. But then he looked away, shaking his head.
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