Dario's grin appeared if only briefly. “Contessa is the woman who lives with me."
“What?" My question went unanswered as the elevator doors opened.
We stepped out of the elevator into a stunning entry showcasing a sprawling living room, complete with a large fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the city below. While the apartment was luxurious with ceilings at least fourteen feet high, and the furnishings were the best money could buy, my thoughts remained on this woman, the one who cohabitates with my husband.
Dario placed his hand in the small of my back, turning me toward footsteps. A sigh of relief escaped my throat at the sight of a short and plump woman, probably in her early sixties, coming toward us. “Contessa?" I asked.
Only I could hear Dario's soft chuck
