Ruthless Monarch

I am under no false illusion it’s about my husband, but at the same time, do I really want the gritty details?

15

Matteo

* * *

I watch her as she waits for her friend to arrive. Her face is more serious than normal. There is a tiny line that forms between her brows like she is thinking really hard of how she is going to break the news to her friend that she got married.

Then there is the way she nibbles on her lip.

I’m used to seeing her do this move when she is nervous, but now as she chomps on the plump skin, I know she truly cares what her friend thinks.

When the bell on the door finally chimes and a girl who looks to be Viviana’s age walks in, she jumps from her chair and barrels into her.

They both seem equally excited to see each other.

As though it’s been years and not weeks.

It feels like just yesterday I waited in Viviana’s apartment for her to arrive, but seeing these two together makes me understand it’s been much longer than it felt.

After a few seconds, they separate.

That’s when her friend finally notices me. She narrows her eyes as I stand and approach. She doesn’t even need to speak for me to know that she is currently giving me the silent third degree.

Turning back to Viviana, she gives her a pointed look.

“Who is he?” she grits through her teeth. Not even pretending not to be upset.

“About that . . . How about you take a seat? I have someone to talk to you about.”

“What’s going on? Viviana, in my whole life of knowing you, you have never randomly shown up with a guy. You’ve barely dated. And here you are, missing in action for almost two weeks, then you bring him here. Tell me what is going on, now.”

For some reason, I find myself stepping up to Viviana’s side and getting close to her. I don’t outwardly touch her, but my hand skims her hand, our fingers making contact. She straightens her back as if my touch gives her strength.

“Please, sit down, Julia, I will explain everything. I promise.”

“Sounds like it’s going to be one heck of a long story,” she says, before striding over to the chair and sitting down. We both also take the seats that we were in before, but I pull my chair a little closer to hers, making a clear statement that we are together.

“Remember that night I went to my father’s?”

“The last time we spoke?” The bitterness in her voice is heavy. Like a jilted lover left at the altar forced to talk to her ex.

“Yes, that’s the night I’m talking about. As you know, it’s never fun going to have dinner with my family, but this night was worse. This night, my father basically took my life away from me. He-he,” she stutters, clearly still affected by his words. “He wanted me to form an alliance for him. I-I was supposed to marry a man named Salvatore Amante. He thought that by marrying me off to him, it would help him politically.”

Julia’s face shows signs of shock. Her mouth open, waiting.

“Matteo”—Viviana looks at me—“is Salvatore’s cousin. Matteo, knowing the type of man Salvatore is, wanted to help me . . .”

“And how exactly did he help you?”

It is then that Viviana removes her hand from her lap. She twists the ring on her finger around until it is no longer just a platinum band on her right hand, but now the diamond is showing. She removes the ring and places it on the left hand.

“You’re engaged?” Julia hisses.

“No.” There is a pregnant pause as Julia waits for what she will say next. I’m waiting too, but not because I don’t know the answer, but because I’m curious as to how her friend will react. “I’m actually married.” The silence is deafening after the statement.

Julia stares at her friend, blank and lifelessly.

Finally, Viviana leans across the table closer. “Say something. Please.” Her voice cracks. There is so much emotion wrapped up in the one word. It’s a plea. A frozen panic, unfathomable pain.

She needs her friend to be okay with this, but instead, Julia’s jaw tightens.

“You got married without me,” she states.

“It wasn’t like that.”

Julia stands from her chair. “Yes. It clearly was.”

“Where are you going?” Viviana stands too, but unlike her friend who stands tall with strength, Viviana’s shoulders slump forward. This is a much different version of the girl I saw go head-to-head with her father.

Her friend crosses her arms at her chest. “I need air. I need to think.”

“Please let me explain. We needed to keep it quiet.” Viviana steps closer to her and lifts her hand, but Julia shakes her head.

“Still, I’m not just anyone,” Julia says, and for some unexplainable reason, I feel the need to defend her.