Ruined Secrets (Perfectly Imperfect #4)

“I recorded the whole ordeal. I’m sending you a video.”

“You recorded it? Why the fuck didn’t you throw out that bitch instead?”

“It seemed Isa didn’t need my help.” He laughs. “She threw her out herself.”

“What?” I hit the button on my remote as I approach my car. The doors click just as I’m reaching for the handle.

“Just watch, Luca.” Damian cuts the call.

I get into my car and play the video Damian sent. When I come to the part where Simona grabs Isabella’s arm, I grip the steering wheel, then reach down and start the car, only to turnit off two seconds later. I watch with growing amazement as my tiny wife grabs my ex, who’s more than a head taller, and pulls Simona toward the front door by her hair. The video ends with her casually walking across the hall.

I play the video again, and then one more time. Smiling, I lean back in the seat and shake my head. Little hellion. I step out of the car, intending to call Simona to let her know what I think of her visit, when my phone rings again. The display shows Francesco’s name. I don’t get calls from Isabella’s father often.

“Francesco? What’s going on?”

“The don has just been admitted to the hospital,” he says. “Another heart attack.”

“Fuck. Is it bad?”

“Yes. Can you get Isa there? I haven’t told her yet. I was afraid she’d come by herself.”

“Sure.”

Once he gives me the address, I jump behind the wheel and floor it.

* * *

I find Isabella just as Damian said—watching TV with Rosa in the library. Her left arm is lying on the back of the sofa, and as I approach, I notice a red bruise above her elbow. I’m going to kill Simona if she dares come within a five-yard radius of my wife ever again. Without thinking, I reach out and brush her skin with the back of my hand. Isabella’s head snaps up, surprise in her eyes, and I quickly remove my hand.

“Go get your purse,” I say and drop a kiss on the top of Rosa’s head. “I’ll wait for you in the car. We have to go.”

“Where?”

“To the hospital. Your grandfather’s had another heart attack.”

She stares at me for a second, then jumps up from the sofa and leaves the library at a run. I expect her to change or put on some makeup, but she rushes back down the stairs with her purse and shoes on before I reach the front door.

“How is he?” Isabella asks as we get in the car.

“I don’t know. Your father just gave me the address and hung up. We’ll ask when we get there.”

She nods and leans back in the seat, clutching her purse in her lap.

It takes us thirty minutes to reach the hospital and five more to find a parking spot. As soon as I park the car, Isabella gets out and rushes toward the entrance. I run after her, and when I reach her, I take her hand in mine. “Stay close to me.”

Isabella looks down at our joined hands, nods, and lets me lead her inside. As we enter the lobby, I scan the people in the waiting room. When I don’t notice anything suspicious, I guide us to the information desk and ask for directions.

The closer we get to the hospital unit the nurse indicated, the stronger Isabella’s grip on my hand gets. We round the corner and spot two men in front of the door at the end of the hallway and Isabella’s father sitting on a chair across from them. Immediately, Isabella lets go of my hand and runs to him.

She embraces her father while he speaks in her ear, probably updating her on her grandfather’s condition, and I expect her to break down and start crying at any moment. Instead, she nods,sits down in the chair next to Francesco, and stares at the door in front of her. It amazes me how collected she seems on the outside, because I know she’s freaking out on the inside. She couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes while we were driving to the hospital. My place is there, sitting next to her and holding her hand, but it doesn’t feel right. I’m sure she wouldn’t welcome it. Not after the cold shoulder I’ve been giving her. I’ve truly been acting like a piece of shit.

Isabella seems to act with more maturity than Simona, who’s ten years older. When Damian told me the two of them met today, I assumed I’d find Isabella crying in her room when I came home. I never would have imagined that she’d stand her ground. Damian’s video proved me wrong and showed that she managed quite well. My young wife has turned out to be quite a surprise, and I’m finding it hard to continue keeping her at arm’s length.

The fact is, I’m attracted to her, and I don’t mean just physically. I like the way she stands up to me each and every time—never pulling away and meeting me on the middle ground instead. The way, day after day, she keeps playing the game of indifference that I started, makes me even crazier for her. Maybe I should just let go of my self-restraint and start fucking her senseless. It’s not like she doesn’t have the experience. That’s obvious from the way she’s acting. And that realization makes me furious. Why do I care if she’s had sex before? And what the hell am I going to do with this idiotic urge to find every man who’s touched her and strangle them? Maybe it’s her unpredictable behavior that’s messing with my brain. She riles me up to the point of my dick exploding one moment, and the next, she's an ice queen, ready to brush me aside for the next schmuck who’ll fix her “little problem”.

The door to the don’s room opens, and Isabella’s mother and sister walk out. They exchange a few words, then Isabella heads inside, but not before throwing a quick look in my direction.

Dear God, he looks so old.