Chapter 7 - The Audacity of Chloe
|
While Adelaide was hunting a traitor, her family was celebrating what they believed was a total victory.
On Friday afternoon, the heavy iron gates of the Moretti compound buzzed. One of the guards called up to the main house.
“Boss, there’s a woman at the gate. Says her name is Chloe Jones. She’s demanding to see her sister.”
Mateo was in Adelaide’s office. He looked at his wife, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want me to have the guards throw her into the river?”
Adelaide paused her typing. A slow, wicked smile touched her lips. “No. Let her in. But give me twenty minutes to change.”
When Chloe was finally escorted into the grand foyer of the Moretti estate, she looked around with barely concealed greed. She wore a designer red dress, expecting to find Adelaide locked in a dungeon, miserable and begging for help.
Instead, she heard the sharp click of heels on marble.
Adelaide descended the grand staircase. She wasn't wearing the olive-green rag they had sent her in. She wore a tailored, plunging black jumpsuit that hugged her curves flawlessly. Her hair was blown out into sleek waves, and the massive emerald on her finger caught the light, practically blinding her sister.
Chloe’s jaw dropped. The smug, condescending greeting died in her throat.
“Adelaide?” Chloe stammered, looking at the confident, stunning woman before her.
“Hello, Chloe,” Adelaide said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. Two armed guards flanked her immediately, standing at attention.
“What is this?” Chloe demanded, gesturing wildly. “I came to check on you. Daddy thought you might be dead! Why are you dressed like that?”
“I’m dressed like the lady of the house,” Adelaide replied coolly. “Because I am.”
Chloe let out a harsh, incredulous laugh. “You? The mob boss married you? Please. He’s probably just using you as a maid.”
“Be very careful with your next words, Chloe.”
May you like
Mateo stepped out of the shadows of the hallway. He walked straight to Adelaide, wrapping a possessive arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to her temple. He looked at Chloe as if she were a cockroach that had scurried onto his pristine floor.
“You are speaking to my wife,” Mateo said, his voice dripping with lethal promise. “Speak to her with respect, or I will have my men remove your tongue.”
