A R I A N A

A whole week had passed since that awful night in Dante's study and seven days since I signed that ridiculous contract, seven days since he dropped the bombshell about fertility treatments.

And seven blissful days without seeing his face.

Emphasis on the blissful.

Lina told me he'd left for a business trip to Italy the morning after our argument. She'd been extra chatty, trying to fill me in on all of Dante's habits how he traveled often, how he hated ...