Bad Bishop: A Dark Mafia Romance (Society of Villains Book 1) - Chapter 41

Chapter 41 I couldn't see straight as I walked the distance from the car to our building, Irish soldiers engulfing me from all sides. I wasn't ready to face Imma in the apartment, so I slipped into Fermanagh's instead. The place was packed as always. Drunken old men and sex workers aplenty. It could be argued that a man of Tiernan's means who truly cared about his pregnant wife wouldn't want her to live in a place like this. Now that he had ripped the rose-colored glasses from my eyes, I could finally admit this to myself.

Weaving into the back of the bar, I grabbed curry chips and a Coke and dragged my way up the stairs, contemplating knocking on Tierney's door. I loved Imma, but she'd never relate to me. In her view, Tiernan was a splendid husband. He gave me a credit card and no blue marks on my body. The rest, to her, was just white noise. Mafia wars? Seedy neighborhood? Unspoken feelings? All pesky female delicacies I shouldn't worry myself with as long as he kept me lavishly clothed and safe. My phone vibrated in my pocket with a message. I pulled it out. Tiernan: Found a great audiologist.

He specializes in cochlear implants. We are seeing him Tuesday. Tuesday was three days from now. It was his way of pacifying me, and it didn't work at all. I had a belly full of baby he refused to acknowledge and a husband who was going to fly off to Vegas in a few days to engage in semiautomatic weapon carnage. Not to mention he was taking two of my brothers, my own flesh and blood, with him. My lack of hearing was the least of my problems right now. Tangled in a web of my own thoughts, I pushed the door open, my boots landing on something smooth and slippery.

I raised my foot and frowned down at it. An envelope. An envelope addressed to me. To: Raffaella Ferrante My name was handwritten in cursive. My pulse quickened, and I bent down to retrieve it, my swollen belly making it almost impossible to do so. I put the curry chips on the table, examining the simple white letter between my fingers. I'd never received any mail here. All my medical and occupational therapy correspondence arrived at my parents' house. And I never received personal mail, period. This didn't look like a bill.

And there was another thing that made the back of my throat burn with bile. Ferrante. I wasn't a Ferrante anymore. I was a Callaghan. It seemed deliberate and wicked. A way to remind me my marriage was one of convenience, not love. I broke the seal, retrieving the letter inside it. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ f͟i͟n͟d͟n͟o͟v͟e͟l͟.net Raffaella, I know your dirty secret. The one you and your husband are trying to hide from the world. I know about your bastard child. If you want your marriage to survive and your secret to remain this way, meet me at a place of my choosing next week.