Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“Mr. Vitale,” she greets Angelo first. “Welcome back.”
As she says it, I wonder how many times he’s been on this yacht. Or, more accurately, this superyacht. I’ve always known the Vitales are ridiculously wealthy—a combination of generational trickle down, a spate of booming investments, and well-maintained business empires. I’ve known them my whole life, but I couldn’t even begin to list all the things they own. Even so, it’s difficult for me to imagine Angelo purchasing something of this size when he has an entire island and many other properties at his disposal.
There could only be one reason. He must have been living on it since his release.
“On behalf of all the crew, I’d like to wish you congratulations on your marriage.” The stewardess smiles, ignoring what a mess I am right now. “It’s so lovely to meet you, Mrs. Vitale.”
“Thank you, Veronica,” Angelo replies. “Can you please show Mrs. Vitale to our suite? It’s been a long day, and I’m sure she’d like to rest.”
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.”
Angelo stays behind with the crew, speaking with the captain as I follow Veronica up the stairs.
“I can give you a quick tour along the way if you’d like,” she offers.
“Thank you.” I nod, too numb to make small talk.
“She has five decks, including an owner’s deck, a VIP suite, four guest cabins, a helipad, and crew quarters with dedicated space for your security team. The lower deck houses your gym, spa, a cinema, and a private library and office space.”
At the top of the landing, she steps aside to let me take in everything as she points out the details. “This is the main deck. Here, you have your outdoor lounge and bar, infinity pool, main salon with panoramic views, a formal dining area, the galley, and an al fresco dining option on the aft deck.”
Beyond the open lounge, moonlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling glass in the main salon, illuminating the marble floor, crisp white furnishings, and platinum accents. Everything is pristine and expensive, and for a moment, I find myself wondering how many guests Angelo has entertained here.
How many other women?
“Shall we move on?” Veronica asks.
“Yes.” I force the word past my bone-dry throat.
She leads me up the next staircase and gestures to the space in front of us. “Here we are. The owner’s deck houses your suite as well as a private aft deck and pool area. Would you like me to show you the features before you settle in?”
“I think I can manage.” My eyes drift to the additional staircase. “Where does that go?”
“The Skylounge,” she says. “It has a beautiful view over the bow. Perfect for sunset cocktails.”
Or throwing disagreeable guests overboard.
I nod, and she removes the tablet tucked under her arm and presses a few buttons, adjusting the lighting in the suite. “This controls your lighting, shades, and entertainment system. Should you need anything else, you can contact our butler service twenty-four hours a day, just there.” She shows me the messaging system before handing it over to me. “I’ve unpacked the luggage that was sent ahead for you, Mrs. Vitale, and there’s a chilled bottle of Veuve Clicquot and strawberries on the bar. Is there anything else I can get you right now?”
“No, thank you, Veronica. I appreciate you helping me get settled in, but I think I’m going to retire for the night.”
“Of course.” She nods. “Enjoy your rest, Mrs. Vitale.”
After she retreats, I waste no time stripping off my clothes inside the suite, discarding them in the first trash bin I find. With that done, I head to the bar and pop the bottle of champagne, pouring a hefty gulp into my mouth and chasing it with three strawberries.
Veronica went to the trouble of bringing them for us, so the least I can do is eat them. That’s what I tell myself as I carry the platter and champagne into the bathroom with me. But the sweet fruit quickly sours in my stomach when I get a look at my blood-stained skin in the mirror.
Discarding the tray of fruit, I turn the shower on hot and step inside with my bottle of champagne. I stand beneath the spray and drink away the memory of Matteo’s lifeless gaze as his blood washes down the drain.
I’m too broken to cry anymore, and I don’t know what that says about me. Matteo protected my secret up until the bitter end, even as he watched me betray him.
Guilt is too heavy a weight to carry, my mother once said. She was conditioned not to blink an eye or lose sleep over any carnage she witnessed during her marriage, and she made sure her daughters were too. It’s the only way to survive this world.
I’m not sure I’m as good at that as she was. Because as I stumble from the shower and set the empty champagne bottle on the counter, I don’t feel so detached anymore. I just feel the crushing weight of sadness and terminal exhaustion.