Chapter 2 - “MY WIFE, JESSICA”
“You’re holding your breath.”
Giovanni’s voice was so calm that for a second I forgot two hundred people were staring at us.
“I’m trying not to pass out.”
“That would complicate the illusion.”
I looked up at him.
“You’re joking?”
“Occasionally.”
His hand remained respectful at my waist.
No pulling.
No possessive pressure.
Just enough contact to make the dance believable.
Across the ballroom, Tyler had stopped pretending not to watch.
Vanessa stood beside him, one hand resting protectively over her belly.
“Why does everyone know you?”
I whispered.
Giovanni looked toward the tables surrounding the dance floor.
“Because my family owns things people prefer not to lose.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s less interesting than it sounds.”
Then an elegant woman in her late sixties stepped into our path.
Silver hair.
Emerald gown.
Diamond earrings large enough to fund Lily’s college education.
“Giovanni.”
His shoulders changed.
Barely.
But I felt it.
“Aunt Lucia.”
Her gaze moved to me.
Then to his hand at my waist.
Then back to him.
“You failed to mention you were bringing someone.”
“I didn’t bring her.”
“Clearly.”
Before I could retreat, Giovanni tightened his fingers around mine.
Not trapping.
Warning.
Remember.
Don’t let go.
Lucia smiled at me.
“And you are?”
I opened my mouth.
Giovanni answered first.
“My wife.”
The orchestra might as well have stopped.
Lucia’s face became completely still.
Three people behind her audibly gasped.
I stepped on Giovanni’s shoe.
Hard.
He did not react.
“Your what?”
Lucia asked.
“My wife.”
I whispered through my teeth:
“You have lost your mind.”
“Probably.”
Lucia stared at me.
“When?”
Giovanni said:
“Recently.”
“Where?”
“Privately.”
“How privately?”
I said:
“So privately that apparently I wasn’t informed.”
Giovanni coughed.
I almost smiled.
Lucia did not.
Then another woman approached.
Younger.
Beautiful.
Ice-blonde hair.
White satin gown.
She looked at Giovanni as if I had stolen property.
“Giovanni.”
His expression cooled.
“Celeste.”
There it was.
The woman his family wanted him to marry.
Celeste Hartwell.
Even I knew that surname.
Hartwell Medical Technologies made half the infusion pumps, monitoring equipment, and disposable tubing in the pediatric unit where I worked.
Her father, Robert Hartwell, had spent years turning the company into one of the largest medical-device suppliers in the Midwest.
Celeste’s gaze moved over my department-store dress.
Then my repaired shoes.
A tiny smile appeared.
“Your wife.”
“Yes.”
“That’s fascinating.”
“I’ve always hoped to be fascinating.”
I whispered:
“Giovanni.”
He ignored me.
Then Tyler appeared.
Of course.
“Mr. Fierro.”
Giovanni’s expression changed again.
He knew Tyler.
Tyler suddenly looked nothing like the man who mocked my apartment fifteen minutes earlier.
He looked like an employee speaking to the person who could fire the person who could fire him.
“Tyler Bennett,” he said quickly. “Hartwell regional commercial strategy.”
Giovanni nodded.
“I know who you are.”
Tyler swallowed.
His eyes landed on me.
“Jessica and I were married.”
Giovanni looked at me.
“So I gathered.”
Vanessa stepped closer.
“Was.”
Her voice sharpened.
“They’ve been divorced five years.”
I smiled.
“Thank you, Vanessa. I had forgotten.”
Her face tightened.
Giovanni looked between Tyler and me.
“You’re Lily’s father?”
Tyler froze.
I did too.
“How do you know Lily?”
I asked.
Giovanni looked down at me.
“I heard enough of your conversation.”
Tyler’s jaw hardened.
Then Giovanni asked him:
“When did you last see your daughter?”
Silence.
Vanessa’s face changed.
Tyler laughed awkwardly.
“This isn’t really the place—”
“Six months?”
I said.
Tyler looked at me sharply.
“Eight.”
“Jessica.”
“You asked.”
Giovanni said nothing.
That silence humiliated Tyler more effectively than any insult could have.
Then Celeste interrupted.
“Giovanni, my father is waiting.”
“For?”
“The announcement.”
I felt Giovanni’s body become rigid.
“What announcement?”
I asked.
Celeste smiled directly at me.
“Our families are finalizing the Hartwell-Fierro transaction tonight.”
Then:
“And apparently they planned to announce our engagement with it.”
I looked at Giovanni.
He looked at me.
Suddenly the fake wife made sense.
“You could have just said no.”
“I have.”
“How many times?”
“Seven.”
I stared.
“Seven?”
“Eight if we count tonight.”
Celeste’s face hardened.
“This isn’t amusing.”
“No.”
Giovanni finally released my waist but kept my hand.
“It isn’t.”
Then he looked toward a raised platform at the other end of the ballroom.
Robert Hartwell was standing beside an older man I immediately recognized from business news.
Marco Fierro.
Giovanni’s uncle.
Both men were waiting beside a microphone.
Giovanni whispered:
“Here comes the problem.”
Marco raised his champagne glass.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?”
Conversations died.
Giovanni squeezed my fingers.
“Jessica.”
“What?”
“If you want out, walk away now.”
I looked toward Tyler.
Vanessa.
Celeste.
Two families preparing to use marriage like a contract clause.
Then back at Giovanni.
“What happens if I stay?”
“For the next five minutes?”
“Yes.”
“Everyone in this room assumes I married you.”
“And after five minutes?”
His expression darkened.
“That depends on why Hartwell buried your hospital report.”
My body went cold.
“What hospital report?”
Giovanni looked directly into my eyes.
“The one about pediatric infusion pumps malfunctioning at St. Catherine’s.”
I stopped breathing.
I had filed that report four months earlier.
It had disappeared.
May you like
And nobody outside my hospital’s safety department was supposed to know it existed.
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