She closed her eyes. “I’m, he and I are together in Sorrento. At his home. We’re getting married.”
The silence on the phone was the worst part of the call. She felt such profound guilt and loss over the end of their friendship. There would be no way she could stay in contact with him now that she’s decided to become Giovanni’s wife. She hadn’t lied. He was one of her first loves. She would always cherish what they had, but her life and her future was here. “Say something. Talk to me. Please.”
“This won’t happen.”
The line disconnected.
“Hello? Hello?”
“Who were you talking to?” Giovanni stepped inside the room. Mira whirled around with the phone in her hand. She blinked at him a bit surprised. His gaze lowered to the phone in her hand and then lifted to her face. He eased his hands in his pockets and held her stare. “I asked you a question, Bella. Who was that on the phone?”
“Agnes, a neighbor in Muri. I need her to check on my cottage while we decide what to do with it.” She lied. Why she lied she wasn’t sure. Her heart hammered so hard and fast in her chest she feared he could hear it from across the room. He smiled and stepped toward her. Mira placed the phone back on the base.
“What is this?” he paused and looked in at Eve. Mira released the breath she held. She followed him inside the room. Eve rose from the floor with a block in her hand. She walked over to her father and handed it to him. He lowered to the floor smiling. “You want Papa to play with you?”
Eve backed up and sat on his lap on the floor. She stuck her pacifier back in her mouth. Giovanni chuckled. With Eve’s help he began to stack blocks. Mira turned from the door and went back inside their room. When she glanced over her shoulder she saw Giovanni staring at her through the open door. Their eyes met. She tried to seem less guilty and forced a smile. His gaze narrowed on her, and then he winked. He began to talk and play with Eve. She shouldn’t start out lying to him, but what harm could a little white lie do?
Kei rose from the sofa. He paced back and forth, his chest constricting with anger. He turned and picked up the vase from the mantle and threw it through the window facing the front of the house. Enraged, he snatched up the phone and dialed. “Cheung. We do things your way. Yes. I understand. She is with him in Sorrento. Do what you must.”
He ended the call. Tossing the phone to the sofa he exhaled deep breaths. “I won’t let you do this, Mira. It’s time for you to come home sweetheart,” he said with a clenched fist.
Chapter Eight