All Chapters of Second Time, Mrs. Ricciardi: Chapter 141 - Chapter 150

I slept in Rafael’s arms.That should’ve been horrifying enough to wake me up around three in the morning, stare at the ceiling, and launch a full internal investigation complete with a timeline, witnesses, and requests for identity protection.But no.I slept.Actually slept.After all the chaos last night, after my bedroom had turned into a crime scene that would probably require God’s forgiveness and housekeeping with an NDA, Rafael lay behind me with one heavy arm wrapped around my waist, his chest warm against my back.I was awake just long enough to realize how familiar the position felt. Too familiar, actually, because my body immediately settled into his without bothering to ask my brain for approval.I should’ve moved his arm.Told him to go home.At the very least, I should’ve pulled the blanket up to my chin with the dignity of a woman who had just made several highly questionable decisions with her ex-husband, who was now technically her husband again.Instead, I just clos

By 9:07, I’m back to being a woman who respected calendars, used the word deliverables without irony, and had never threatened a shirtless billionaire with a skillet.Professionalism.Or denial with dental insurance.I closed the glass conference room door at GALA, set my iPad and coffee on the table, then sat down, my deep espresso dress still successfully hiding every piece of evidence from last night. My hair was still neat in its low bun, and from the outside, no one had any reason to suspect I was walking a little more carefully because an Italian man apparently considered recovery time an urban legend.My phone buzzed.Rafael.A photo.Technically, it had come in earlier, after he dropped Gabby and Al off at preschool wearing Javier’s black T-shirt that had been left in the guest room. I’d only seen the thumbnail: Gabby standing beside Rafael in her crown, posing like preschool had a red carpet, while Al wore his blue backpack and gave a thumbs-up.“I don’t know what you’re avoi

I read the sentence again.No name.No phone number.No explanation for why someone who knew far too much about my routine felt the need to send me the name of a country on the back of a photograph of my children.I turned the photo over again.Gabby.Al.Rafael.8:07 a.m.“Elise.”She straightened immediately. “Yeah?”I slid the photo back into the envelope, pressed the flap down without sealing it again, then tucked it into my handbag between my wallet and makeup pouch, somehow made Elise look even more worried than she had five minutes ago.Fair. People who’d known me long enough knew I talked a lot when I was annoyed.I swore when I was angry. When I was genuinely scared, I usually started sounding like I was ordering catering.“James needs to save all the CCTV footage from the last three days,” I said, picking up the tray with four coffees. “Inside, entrance, sidewalk, whatever angles you have. Don’t overwrite anything.”Elise nodded quickly. “Okay.”“And the back door?”“What?”

“At GALA.”“Stay there.”I frowned. “Huh?”The call ended.I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then looked up at Marie. “He just hung up on me.”“Tragic.”“I’m his wife.”“Contractually.”“Exactly. There should be a clause about basic phone etiquette.”Marie didn’t even respond. She was already back to photographing the envelope from several angles with her phone while Jemima called the preschool and Dianna spoke to building security.So, since apparently everyone in the room had decided to be reasonable today, I went back to my office.Of course I went back to work.There was no point sitting around staring at the clock while imagining some strange man standing a few feet away from my children that morning. My brain didn’t do well with helplessness. It much preferred spreadsheets, floor plans, and vendors I could legally threaten.I pulled the revised Westbridge plan back up on my monitor, read an email about the donor reception, moved a bar station that had been bothering me s

Eleven o’clock came, and I spent most of the time after the conference-room conversation sitting in the third-floor lounge at GALA, mostly because Marie told me to stop pacing near the evidence, Dianna told me to stop replaying the preschool footage from the same angle, and Jemima agreed with both of them.So I sat on the cream sofa by the linen samples, one leg folded underneath me, heels off because there was apparently a limit to how long a woman could look elegant while the universe built a criminal subplot around her children. My laptop was open on my lap, but all I’d managed to do was move the same email into the follow-up folder three times, which didn’t count as productivity.Rafael and Theo were in an empty room near the end of the floor, the one I used for temporary fittings when a client was too rich to stand in a regular room like a civilian. The door was closed, the glass blinds halfway down, and every so often I caught their shadows moving behind them, Theo pacing with h