for you, Mr. Bellucci,” she comments. “Various run-ins with the press, a mother and child who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, and now a murder trial.”
Her eyes flick up, and I suppress an irritated scowl. I hate when reporters pose statements as if they are questions.
I don a tight-lipped smile. “Yes, it has been a busier year than most, I admit.”
“On the subject of your delightful little family, many of your critics have noticed their absence from the public eye recently. Can you comment?”
I want to tell her that it’s none of her business, and perhaps a few months ago would have done just that, but I have practiced maintaining a cool head in front of the press, even when it comes to answering uncomfortable questions.
Recently Carmen made the rather astute observation that now that I am being investigated for murder, I cannot be seen to publicly lose my temper. It paints too clear a picture.
“Harry and Alexis are well,” I answer. “Alexis and I decided we wanted to keep Harry out of the public eye and away from the madness of the trial as much as possible. So, for the time being, we are living separately.”
Taylor cocks a sculpted brow. “That must be very difficult.”
“It is.” I nod. “But it’s for the best. Alexis and I love each other very much, and we love our son even more. We just want what’s best for him, even if at the moment that means I must keep him at arm’s length.’
I wonder what Taylor would say if I told her the truth—that Alexis and Harry are living separately from me because I cannot stand to be in the same room as the woman who twisted a knife in my heart, but I have to keep her close to prevent her from being brutally murdered by my enemies.
It would certainly make for a more interesting interview.
By the end of my interview with Taylor Green, we are laughing like old friends. I doubt she would be so cheerful if she knew that I’m guilty of the charges against me, that I murdered my father, and that he was not the first or the last to face his fate down the barrel of my gun.
But that is the whole point of this exercise. The world can never know what kind of monster is lurking just below the surface of my CEO persona, though the temptation to reveal my pointed teeth and do away with the pretense will always linger.
Once Taylor is gone, I soon realize I have little else to do with my evening. Many of my responsibilities for Bellucci Inc. have been siphoned away in preparation for the trial, and a quick check-in with Silvano reveals that he has learned nothing further about Alexis’ attackers or Clara’s whereabouts.
I guess I should just go home, then.
I grab my coat and head for the door, but with each step, the prospect of rattling around my empty mansion seems less and less tempting. Alexis’ ghost is everywhere—sprawled over the sofa with a laptop, head poking in the refrigerator looking for a late-night snack, bent over my desk, her ripe ass high in the air…
I shake my head and decide to avoid going home for a little while. I have a rare night off. I may as well try to enjoy it.
“Take me to Fiamma,” I say as I get in the car.
David cocks his brow. I have not been to the nightclub in years.
I ignore his questioning stare and sit back against the leather, thinking back to when I first saw Alexis under Fiamma’s flashing lights nearly three years ago. She wore a glittery silver dress that caught my attention in the crowd. Her hair was longer then, nearly down to her waist, and I watched as she flung it back and forth while she and Clara danced wildly to the music.
She wasn’t trying to be sexy, but she invariably was. It was difficult for me to look away, but I had business on my mind that night.
The next time I saw Alexis, she was arguing with the bartender. It was then I knew I had to have her, and when I did, she certainly didn’t disappoint.
Those were simpler times. They seemed chaotic and desperate, but that was nothing compared to now.
David pulls up in front of the club, which looks desolate from the outside. On the weekends, Fiamma is the place to be, and clubgoers line up for hours to get in. On weekdays, however,