His to Claim, His to Ruin

Chapter 15

Salvatore

“Sorry, the number you're calling is out of coverage area. Please—” I pressed the red button with narrowed eyes, expressing my displeased, annoyed face.

“Shit.” I cursed under my breath.

Lana hasn't come home, and it's past 4 am. I've been swamped with my work duties to an extent that I let a single order to check on her slip.

An important issue concerning my business came up. Cindy and I managed it for one whole day. I was expecting Lana at my villa, but no traces of her were found within the parameters. How frustrating it is to lose someone you've lost. My anger is like an active volcano erupting.

Tension increased in my head. I scratched the back of my neck whilst checking the CCTV. She left. The thought of losing my wife isn't something I can handle. No, not again.

“Dozens of men and no one has noticed she left?” An impatient exasperation comes out of my lips whilst ogling my men. “I was clear with my instructions. Watch. Her.”

Owen, my right-hand man, who was in charge of guarding Lana, stepped in.

“We thought she stayed in her room all day. It won't happen again, Don.”

With a throbbing nerve, I massage my temple to release the stress building up. Until Paul, who was on the phone with another, dropped the call and stood up straight with confidence in front of me.

“Madame is seen at Tune In. My hunch is she left to work. According to our men, she will be on duty the whole week.”

“To work,” I repeated, sneering whilst licking my bottom lip, hands on my waist as mixed frustration, anger, and fear crawled over my skin all at once.

I took my coat, along with my phone and car keys, then my eyes found Owen.

“If something happens to my wife, I'll make sure you'll suffer. You got it?” Owen looked at me with no emotion in his eyes. He was stern, composed, and standing confidently before my eyes. Exactly how I trained him to be.

It took us 15-minute drive before we arrived at our target destination. Tune In is now closed. No signs of lights inside, and a person roaming free at the club.

I took my phone again to dial her number, but it wasn't ringing. And it’s freaking annoying.

Did she block me?

Lana's whereabouts are unknown. Losing her wasn't in my plan, and I will make sure she stays by my side no matter what it takes.

Until Owen dialed my number when she saw Lana at a park, sitting on the bench, cold. My racing mind is finally at rest the moment I've seen her turbulent state.

Her eyes were red, indicating she had cried. Tight dresses, high heels, and a face my heart is willing to bend for. All the thoughts went at ease seeing she's well-behaved and safe, but what caught my attention was a long scratch on her neck.

Whoever hurt my wife can go to hell. I might end their lives and accompany them if they want to. Those weren't just a minimal and simple scratch. A couple of bruises appeared on her body specifically on her arm.

Her hair was disorganized. What woke up my sleeping demons was when I saw a small cut on the side of her lip.

“What happened to you?” I inquired with my jaw clenching, trying to maintain my composure. I don't want to scare her. To run away from me because I'm using violence. Control.

Lana couldn't look at me.

“None of your business.” And now her tone was different.

Stoic.

Frigid.

As if I offended her

“You are my wife. Which part wasn't my business?”

I feel annoyed. Does she really know who she is talking to? Does she give a damn about me too?

My men already had the cue, so they took a step back to give us privacy to talk.

Lana stood straight. Her cold eyes were piercing straight to my soul. Just a day ago, she was on my bed—screaming my name, totally submitting to me. Twenty-four hours had passed, and she had already forgotten who he belonged to.

“Right. A wife on paper. A s*x tool to use as your pastime. A wife to carry during events like flower decorations, ensuring being performative in the eyes of many. Yes, I'm that wife.” Her statement was true. It was stated in the agreement between us. And hell, she thinks everything I wrote shall be followed when it's just a facade after all.

I wrote it to cage her with me and nothing else. Sensing the coldness in her eyes pushed me to speak, to do something I don't—explaining.

“Muffin, that's not—”

A cold, plain smile crept on her lips. “I understand, Don Salvatore.”

Don? Now she f*****g calls me Don?

“Listen, Lana. We're gonna head home, and we'll talk about your problem. Okay?” I said, then took her arm gently, but before I could touch her skin, my wife took a step backward.

I was stunned. Her moves left me utterly speechless.

She doesn't wanna be touched.

“I don't want to!” She hissed like a child.

I licked my lower lip, then I said, “Tell me what's on your mind. How can we resolve it when you're treating me coldly?”

“We're not fighting, so there's nothing to talk about, and I'm not cold. Just honoring the agreement between us.”

I scoffed. “Do you think I don't know you? Do you think I can't read your face?”

Those remarks made her completely speechless. She looked at me with confusion in her eyes until I took her hand, thinking she would surrender this time.

But to my surprise, I saw the anger she's been trying to hide the moment she took my hands off her skin.

“I had a long night working,” Lana mumbled solemnly. “Just call me when you need me to warm your bed since that's my job. I want to rest.”

By the time she left, it was also the moment I felt a sharp pang straight piercing my heart. My stomach physically felt the tone, word by word she muttered—it flipped as I watched her walk away from me.

My wife.

Is gone.