Shame gurgles in my gut to join the anger there. I could have hurt her last night with all the glass flying around. Even when I want to hate her, I can only think of her safety. Dammit.
The car stops, and I glance out the window. Even in the morning, the lights of the casino are a brightly lit beacon to the decadent and depraved.
I don’t feel decadent today… but maybe a little depravity will set me right. At the very least, it’ll take my mind off my wife and the many sins she’s yet to confess.
44
VALENTINA
It’s been an hour since he stormed out. An hour since my words broke something between us. An hour since my life fluttered apart in my lap.
But it’s done. The only secret left between us is the life growing in my belly. Maybe after I’ve given him some time to calm down, the secret will turn into news… something joyful to share after so much misery and hate.
I toss and turn in the empty cold bed. More than my next breath, I want him back. To feel his fingers on my skin, his mouth on my throat, his deep voice whispering against my hair. I want us back.
Light breaks through the curtains on the bank of windows, and I sigh. Looks like I can’t even sleep properly without him here. When I sit up, my belly does a little flip-flop that leaves me bent over and queasy. Shit. Not again. Is it morning sickness, or have I just ruined my marriage before it really began sickness? Either way, I think I’m going to puke.
I race to the bathroom, grabbing a towel from the rack on the way to the toilet. I manage to toss the lump of fabric on the tile before my knees hit a little too hard.
Leaning over the bowl, I heave. Every muscle in my body coils tight and releases. When it’s over, I’m panting, my hands gripping the edge of the toilet seat to keep myself upright.
When it happens again, I try to brace myself, but it’s little help. Once it passes, I lay my cheek on the seat too, all the energy sucked out of me. It’s so unsanitary, but I need the support so I don’t flop onto the chilly tile. And I know the biting cold against my bare skin won’t be helpful.
I heave nothing but my pride into the bowl three more times before it seems to abate.
It hits me that I should eat something. I don’t even know how long it’s been since my last meal. When I first woke up, before my confrontation with Adrian, I planned to hunt down some food. After he left, all I could do was sink back into the bed and pray for sleep to take me away for a while.
Now, my body reminds me I’m an idiot, and my baby needs food as much as I do. It takes me several tries to stand without my legs shaking. Then I have to face the minefield of our bedroom to reach the closet for clothes.
There’s glass everywhere, but I get to the closet without a scratch and grab one of his shirts to slip into. It skims my knees, and I stab my feet into a pair of slippers to complete the look for now. No one will be up yet, and even if they are, I doubt anyone will be brave enough to comment on my appearance. Not today. Not after Adrian’s rescue and my return.
On my way to the kitchen, I think about the old cook. She’d helped me and betrayed me. Or she helped me, only to betray me seems more accurate. My father must have bribed her or planted her as a spy some time ago to keep a watch on Adrian and his team. If that were the case, why didn’t Kai uncover it? He doesn’t seem the type to miss things as important as a spy in his house.
When I reach the kitchen, it’s dark. Figures she wouldn’t come back here. If she did, it would be suicide, and she didn’t seem the type to roll over and take her punishment when it comes for her. If Adrian finds out what she did… it surely will.
Oh well, I can fend for myself without any staff. In my father’s house, most of them ignored Rose and me. We had to scrounge for our own food and feed ourselves. I open the refrigerator and study its very well-stocked interior.
My belly does another slow roll, and I consider if I need to get to the sink in a hurry or not. It passes, and I quickly snatch a bowl of fruit and some shredded chicken.
I set my meal on the countertop in front of a stool and pour a big glass of water from the filtered spout by the sink. Now, with the water in hand, I realize how dry my mouth is. I stand by the basin, hips pressed against the counter to guzzle it down fast. It drips down my chin and onto my shirt, but I don’t stop until it’s gone. Then I grab a refill and sit down to eat.