Library
Maghanap
Home / Romance / Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi / when nobody screams, worry

Share

when nobody screams, worry

Author: Gemma Rykes
last update Petsa ng paglalathala: 2026-08-07 20:40:27

I stared at the invitation for a few seconds.

Then closed the calendar.

By two oh-six, I was already in the car on my way home.

Apparently, my dramatic speech this morning about having meetings until six had been a little too optimistic about my own work ethic.

The vendor review ended before lunch. Marie emailed the contract revisions and, after reading the first page, I decided the woman was paid enough not to require my physical presence. Dianna could handle the approval deck, Jemima had alre
Patuloy na basahin ang aklat na ito nang libre
I-scan ang code upang i-download ang App
Nakaraang Kabanata Susunod na kabanata
Locked Chapter

Pinakabagong kabanata

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   one tío, two toys, several lies

    “Mami...”I immediately turned.Javier heard it too, and his face lit up. “Is that my princess?”“No.” I stood, taking the phone with me. “That’s the IRS.”“MAMIIII.” Louder.“G is on my leg.” Then Al’s voice, rough with sleep.And just like that, peace was over.I walked toward the family room.“Put me on. I want to see them.” Javier laughed through the speaker.“No. You’re buying a secret.”“The truck?”“Exactly.”Gabby was already sitting on the rug when I walked in, her hair stuck to one cheek, her crown still on the floor, and her face carrying profound offense because Al’s leg was, in fact, still lying across her thigh.Al wasn’t fully awake yet. He lay there with his eyes half closed, hugging the whale shark, showing absolutely no intention of moving his leg, and Kendra was still asleep.“Mami,” Gabby said hoarsely. “He is crushing my beautiful leg.”Al opened one eye. “Your leg is fine.”“GET OFF!”She kicked him.Al woke up completely. “MAMIII!”I closed my eyes.On the phone

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   when nobody screams, worry

    I stared at the invitation for a few seconds.Then closed the calendar.By two oh-six, I was already in the car on my way home.Apparently, my dramatic speech this morning about having meetings until six had been a little too optimistic about my own work ethic.The vendor review ended before lunch. Marie emailed the contract revisions and, after reading the first page, I decided the woman was paid enough not to require my physical presence. Dianna could handle the approval deck, Jemima had already taken command of the war against the Paris florist, and there was no logical reason for me to sit in the office for another four hours just to prove I owned a chair.I owned a company so I could go home when I felt lazy.It wasn’t laziness. It was owner privilege.I texted Dianna from the elevator.[Going home. If something burns, call the fire department before me.]Her reply came before the elevator doors opened.[What about your meetings until six?]I stared at the screen.Traitor.[Confi

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   call me again and lose a limb

    I only realized what I’d said after the sentence was already out.My fingers went still against the edge of the desk.Rafael didn’t know.His family didn’t know.And not one of them would ask about children tonight. They thought the last five years of my life had consisted of my company, other people’s weddings, and possibly a string of handsome men who never lasted long enough to make it into a magazine.“No one is going to ask you that.” Rafael’s voice came back quieter.I rubbed my thumb along the corner of the calendar. “You can’t guarantee an Italian family won’t discuss a woman’s uterus. It’s one of your oldest industries.”“I can guarantee they won’t do it to you.”He didn’t even know why the subject might be dangerous, but he had already placed himself between me and the question.I hated when his instincts started resembling the man I used to know. It made hatred inefficient.“I have meetings until six,” I said.“I’ll send a car at seven.”“No.”“Arabella.”“I have my own car

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   call me again and meet god

    At nine forty-three, my phone vibrated again on top of my desk.It moved half an inch between a vendor binder and two linen swatches, then stopped with the screen facing up.Rafael Ricciardi.I kept staring at the lighting proposal on my laptop, drawing a red line through a number far too offensive for two hundred candles and six chandeliers that didn’t even have permission to be hung yet.Outside my office, GALA was already operating at full volume. The printer at the end of the hall was spitting out paper like it was suffering from administrative food poisoning. Jemima was on the phone with someone who kept referring to a temporary structure as a “large gazebo,” a crime against language I believed deserved to be handled by an international court. A junior planner passed behind the glass wall carrying three sample vases the height of a healthy child.My phone stopped.Then started again.I moved one linen swatch aside without looking at it.The sixth call since breakfast.Or the seve

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   one bad mood and a credit card

    I took plates from the cabinet. One. Two. Three. Four. Because Kendra lived here now, and if I didn’t feed her, the woman might run away to Oregon and join a community to grew kale while crying.“Al, dinosaurs do not need maple syrup spas. Gabby, a whale shark can be royal without a crown. There are many ways to have social status. Bank accounts, cheekbones, and the ability not to scream before eight in the morning, for example.”Gabby looked at me. “I have cheekbones?”“Not yet. You have marshmallow cheeks.”Al laughed.Gabby immediately opened her mouth.I raised the spatula without turning around. “The next scream will put your crown on probation.”Gabby’s mouth closed.“Crown probation sounds serious,” Kendra whispered.“Very,” I said. “There’s paperwork.”Al used the silence wisely. He leaned toward Gabby. “Marshmallow cheeks,” he whispered.Al smiled a little.“Take. That. Back,” Gabby growled.Al shook his head, his blue eyes shining like a small child who had already lit a mat

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   one sock short of a family crisis

    I woke up before my alarm.That was insulting enough.The clock on the nightstand read 6:12, the small blue digital numbers glowing with the confidence of someone who didn’t have children, didn’t run a company, and hadn’t just been subtly threatened by her amnesiac ex-husband at a foundation investor event with expensive champagne and lighting that was far too flattering.I lay on my back, staring at the spotless white ceiling, and for the first few seconds, my brain committed no crimes. There was only the distant sound of the waves, the soft hum of the AC, and the weight of the blanket across my waist.“You’re afraid I’ll remember.”I let out a long breath through my nose.Of course Rafael Vittorio Ricciardi had chosen the foundation’s investor night to start turning into a detective. Of course the man couldn’t experience amnesia politely, like a normal person. Forget an email password, forget a cousin’s name, or forget that he possessed the unique ability to turn my life into a lega

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   Platinum Barbie

    Seven p.m., and Lake Como looked like an expensive postcard that had been photographed to death. Deep blue, almost black. Villa lights scattered messily across the water. A thin veil of fog hovering low, like a cheap Instagram filter no one bothered to turn off.From the study window facing the lak

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   The Wife

    The small pan hissed softly as the oil heated, the sharp scent of roughly crushed garlic already filling the kitchen before I realized I was humming. Fuck.A Shakira song.Wildly off-brand for this morning’s mood, which had gone to hell at five twelve a.m. sharp, when Arsen, the technological basta

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   Glass Mansion, Soft Monsters

    Five Years Later.“AL, STOP PULLING MY HAIR, I’M A PRINCESS!”“UGLY PRINCESS!”Something small, warm, and heavy slammed into my waist. Then something else landed on my stomach. I didn’t wake up because of an alarm, but because two tiny bodies decided I was their personal playground.“Oh God,” I ras

  • Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi   Sunlight and Divorce Papers

    I woke up because the sun slapped me in the face. White-gold light speared through the thin curtains, landing directly on my eyelids that had never volunteered to become solar panels. I blinked slowly, trying to gather the pieces of my soul scattered across the sheets.The clock on the nightstand r

Higit pang Kabanata

Maaari mong magustuhan

Galugarin at basahin ang magagandang nobela
Libreng basahin ang magagandang nobela sa GoodNovel app. I-download ang mga librong gusto mo at basahin kahit saan at anumang oras.
Libreng basahin ang mga aklat sa app
I-scan ang code para mabasa sa App
DMCA.com Protection Status