Chapter 50: To meet my ex!

Soraya sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. Her mind was filled with questions.

Had Santino really planned everything behind her back? Was Emilio telling the truth, or was he trying to manipulate her?

Emilio’s words from the bakery kept coming back to her. Then she remembered Santino playing guitar by the bonfire and the way he looked at her.

"I can’t keep living like this," she whispered. "I need to know the truth. I need to find out what Santino is hiding."

She got up from the bed. She couldn’t keep sitting around, wondering what was true and what was a lie. She decided to confront Santino when he returned.

If he refused to answer her questions, she would find another way to get answers, even if it meant contacting Emilio again.

She was still in thought when her phone vibrated. She picked it up; it was a text from Claire.

Soraya opened it and saw a picture of a few men. "Where is she? Is she at the club and sending me pictures of handsome men again?" She muttered as she zoomed in on the picture and froze on the spot.

"San... Santino and Emilio?" Her whole body shook with fear and anger; she herself wasn’t sure what to feel at that moment and dialed Claire’s number.

Within a few rings Claire answered, and without beating around the bush, Soraya bombarded her with questions.

"What’s happening there? Why are Emilio and Santino together, and most importantly, why are you there?"

"Damn it, Sora! Emilio called me to talk, and then this fucking tongue of mine," she hit her lips a few times and continued. "My tongue slipped in front of Emilio and revealed that you are the heiress of the Dalias family, but before he could ask more, I ran away, and just as I turned, I found Emilio with his men.

"Where are you?" Soraya demanded. "I’m coming over there."

"What the hell? You can’t come here, Sora." Claire lowered her voice and glanced towards the lounge entrance. "This could start a war, and I’ll be caught right in the middle of it."

"Claire, I asked for the address." Soraya’s voice grew firmer.

Claire closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine. I’m sending it."

The moment Soraya received the address, she grabbed her handbag, shoved her phone inside, and hurried out of her room.

As she reached the staircase, she heard Marco shouting at Leo.

"Fuck, man!" Marco cursed under his breath. "I’ve told Santino to kill that bastard several times, but..."

He stopped when Soraya appeared in front of them. "Who are you talking about?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing. It’s just business," Leo answered smoothly, trying to cover for Marco.

Marco glanced at Soraya, then his eyes fell on the handbag hanging from her shoulder. His eyebrows drew together as he looked from the bag to her face.

"Soraya, where are you going at this hour?" he asked, his expression turning serious.

"I’m going to meet Claire at the club." She adjusted the strap of her handbag and moved towards the exit.

"What?" Leo turned towards her, clearly caught off guard. "Does Santino know about this?"

"Do I need to report everything to him?" Soraya scoffed, looking back at him. "He’s not even at home right now. Did he bother telling me where he was going?" She spat and turned to leave, but Marco quickly stepped into her path.

"You can’t go alone like that," he said, raising a hand to stop her. "Just wait for Santino to come back. He’ll—"

Before he could finish, Soraya pulled out her phone and held it in front of his face.

"Do you know where your boss has gone?" she asked, staring straight at him. "Santino has gone to meet my ex!"

Marco stared at the picture for a moment before looking back at Soraya.

"Santino knows that I met Emilio, and he might kill him. I won’t let that happen."

"Soraya, you don’t know what’s going on there," Marco tried to reason with her.

"I don’t care!" She stepped around him, but Marco moved to block her again.

"Fine! I’ll take you." Marco raised both hands, stopping her before she could finish. He glanced at Leo, who was still standing nearby.

~ ~ ~ ~

Santino sat back in his chair, slowly turning his wedding ring around his finger before sliding it off and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Let me make one thing perfectly clear, Emilio. You will stay away from Soraya." His voice was dangerously calm. "I strongly advise you not to mistake my patience for permission to test it."

"Who the hell are you to call her your wife?" Emilio slammed his palm against the table, making the glasses rattle. "She’s not yours!"

Santino’s eyes slowly lifted to his face. He placed the ring on the table and straightened it with his fingertip.

"How unfortunate. I had hoped you possessed at least a little sense." A faint smile touched his lips. "You see, I have no interest in discussing my marriage with a man who couldn’t even keep his fiancée."

Emilio’s face twisted with anger. "Watch your mouth!"

"On the contrary, I believe you should watch yours." Santino leaned forward, his voice dropping without losing its smoothness. "From this moment onwards, you will refrain from speaking my wife’s name, approaching her, or entertaining the ridiculous notion that you still have a place in her life."

He paused, letting Emilio absorb every word.

"And if you should forget yourself again, I assure you, the consequences will be far less pleasant than this conversation."

Santino picked up his ring and slipped it back onto his finger. "Have I made myself clear?"

"How dare you!" Emilio lost his temper. He grabbed Santino by the collar and pulled him forward. "She would never be someone who puts a price on her love!"

Santino’s eyes narrowed. He caught Emilio by the collar and yanked him closer, their faces now inches apart.

"How touching." His voice remained calm, but his grip tightened. "And yet, she wouldn’t want a man who betrayed her the moment his own insecurities and hunger for money became more important than his promises."

"Santino!" Emilio shouted, drawing the attention of people at nearby tables.

A few guards immediately stepped forward, but Santino raised one hand without even looking at them. They stopped.

Emilio struggled against his grip, his face twisted with anger. "Soraya would never love a man like you! A murderer and a—"

Santino leaned closer, cutting him off with a whisper. "And what if I am?"

He spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "What difference does it make? She is my wife now. I married her in the very same church where you abandoned her at the altar."

His fingers tightened around Emilio’s collar. "I stood beside her when you left her waiting. I gave her the vows you were too cowardly to keep, and I gave her the loyalty you—"

"Santino!"

Soraya’s voice rang through the lounge.

His head turned sharply.

She rushed towards them, her handbag swinging against her side. Her eyes moved from Santino’s clenched fist to Emilio’s crumpled collar.

"Leave him!" she shouted, grabbing Santino’s arm. "What are you doing to him?"