Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 32729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32729 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 164(@200wpm)___ 131(@250wpm)___ 109(@300wpm)
“That sounds fair.”
“You’re going to try and win over Liana?”
Diego was about to answer when his cell phone went off, interrupting his conversation. He glanced down at the caller ID and saw it was Emilio. Once again, he was tempted to ignore the call. However, whenever any of his friends called, it was very rare to organize a dinner date. Usually those came via text.
Answering the call, he placed his cell phone to his ear. “This better be urgent.”
“You might want to come down to the spa. We’re all here, and well, let’s just say they ordered a couple of bottles of whiskey, and they’re drunk.”
Diego rubbed at his temples. “I’m on my way.”
“Duty calls?” Enzo Jr. asked.
“My wife has decided to get drunk in the spa. I need to go and pick her up.”
Enzo Jr. burst out laughing. “My sister who doesn’t touch a drop of alcohol is drunk? Now, this I have got to see.”
They left the golf course, made their way out to Diego’s car, seeing as he was the one who picked up Enzo Jr. He didn’t have time to take Enzo Jr. home, so he had the man for company all the way to the spa.
He gave the keys to the valet and told them not to move a fucking inch. Entering the main restaurant section, he saw there were several tables filled with men and women.
“That’s my husband,” Liana said. “Shh, he’s very scary.”
His wife was currently standing in the center of the table.
Emilio had his wife, who had passed out in his arms. Clarissa was with Lorenzo, and finally, Mia and Giovanni were also together. The wives looked awful.
“Are you good, man?” Emilio asked.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
Enzo Jr. stood by his side, looking up at his sister and chuckled. “When she wakes up sober from this, she is going to hate every second of this memory,” he said.
“Jokes are not what we need right now.”
The man beside him seemed to have other ideas, because he just laughed.
This was not helping anyone. Running fingers through his hair, he moved closer to the table and by this time, Liana had decided to sit down. There was mess all around the table.
“Honey, come on, we’ve got to go,” he said.
“No! I’m not going anywhere with you. You think I’m a doormat.” Right then, she decided to spread herself out on the table. “See, you want to tread all over me.” She sighed and placed her hands on her stomach. “And to think I was falling in love with you, and I thought you were starting to have feelings about me, but it was all a lie, wasn’t it? You were just acting. You hate me and you think I’m boring, and if you don’t ever divorce me and we get pregnant, life is going to suck. You’re going to keep pretending, and now I know there is no way you’re ever going to love me, and I’m never going to have the love my parents had. I’ll be in a loveless marriage, with kids, and you’ll probably cheat on me and find some other woman to fall in love with, have kids, and want to be with them more than me. I suck.”
Diego moved to the table, and Liana didn’t push him away. The alcohol was finally having its effect as she was starting to look a little green around the gills.
“I would never cheat on you,” he said, whispering it in her ear, knowing there was a chance she was never going to remember this. “And I no longer find you boring, Liana, and right now, I hope you don’t ever change.”
Chapter Seven
Diego was kind enough to hold her hair out of the way as she leaned over the bowl and literally threw up everything that was in her stomach. Liana was pretty sure she had been throwing up now for a good half hour, and she hadn’t eaten or drank enough in the last couple of days to justify this amount of vomit. It was gross.
Even though she did consume a fair amount of alcohol, it wasn’t enough to justify this. Not to mention the unfairness because her head was pounding. What was worse, the memories of last night were a little hazy.
She knew at some point she might have been on the table. All her friends’ husbands arrived and tried to pry the near-empty third bottle of whiskey out of their hands. They probably should have stopped at a glass, but three damn bottles. Not to mention the never-ending vomit trail. After another wave of vomit went into the toilet, she moved her head out of the way, reached up to push the flush button, and then groaned.
“Please, do not look.”
“Trust me, there is no reason for me to look.”
Another groan escaped her. “This is horrible! Why do you even drink that stuff?” Her stomach felt like it was twisting.