Annie West

“her wrist, warm and fragile, tugging it away from the other man. Instantly she drew a sharp, hissing breath. Her head swung round, eyes widening and pupils dilating as she saw him. Those soft brown eyes had once, too long ago, looked adoringly at him. And he, like a fool, had thought they always would. Matteo had learned his lesson. He took nothing for granted anymore. ‘Hello, Angela.’ His face felt tight as he smiled. Was he smiling or grimacing? He didn’t give a damn. He turned to the lanky crew member who, up till this point, he’d been so pleased to have work on this project. Now Matteo wished him to the devil, despite his cinematic skill. All trace of a smile disintegrated as he stared at the other man. ‘I see you already know my wife.’ CHAPTER TWO His wife! Angela flung open the lid of her suitcase and grabbed a pile of neatly folded clothes. She stalked across the vast, opulent room and pulled open an antique door, looking for the wardrobe. Instead she found a palatial dressing room, with sleek modern shelves and endless hanging spaces. She shoved her clothes onto a random shelf and pivoted on her heel. Matteo had referred to her as his wife, just as if he hadn’t received her request for a divorce. The paparazzi who’d snooped around for a story behind their separation would have a field day if they heard that. But more, Matteo had her checked into this extraordinary private hotel that was more like a palace than a place for a cash-strapped screenwriter. The walls were hung in exquisite eau de nil silk. The wide tester bed was topped with a gilt crown from which hung matching silk. Antiques, elegant and perfectly positioned, turned the room into a suite fit for royalty. Even the fresh flowers in their crystal vases were so gorgeous it was a shame she’d be the only one to see them.   When she was met at the vaporetto stop on the Grand Canal, fresh off the plane, she’d been only too grateful to relinquish her luggage, not knowing it would be taken somewhere like this. Having it taken on ahead had been a luxury, for dragging a heavy case over the quaint cobbled streets wasn’t fun. Besides, despite herself, she’d been eager to detour and catch a glimpse of the filming. Angela’s step faltered in the doorway of the dressing room and she sagged against the door frame. Face the truth. You wanted to see Matteo. Even now, even after his betrayal. Even knowing the pair of you were never meant to be together. Her heart crashed against her ribs and her knees turned”
― Annie West, The Italian's Bold Reckoning