Private Lies

Prologue
The depth of Giovanni’s cries spoke his passion.

That didn’t surprise Jacqueline Monroe Scarpelli one
bit. Her husband Gio was a passionate man. Sultry, foreign,
vibrant, and the most brilliant painter she’d ever seen. His
artist’s temperament made him ardent and sensitive, but
also sometimes moody and reclusive. Though he’d never
stay that way long and would make it up to her in the most
incredible and inventive, toe-curling ways.

Jax closed her eyes to fully absorb each and every
vocal nuance, recognizing as the volume rose, the resonance
that signaled Gio’s impending orgasm.

She should be familiar with the growing crescendo. In
their ten-month marriage, and during their short three-
month courtship before eloping, she had experienced the
symphony of his lovemaking more times than she could
count. His progression from the words of love whispered in
heavily accented English, which grew into shouts in Italian
that she couldn’t understand but still knew instinctively
their meaning.

Mouth dry, Jax’s stomach tensed and her heart rate
sped in reaction to Gio’s lovemaking.

This time, however, was different than all the others.
Very different. Tonight, Jax stood outside of Gio’s art
studio, and the feminine cries of pleasure answering Gio’s
inside were not hers.

Hand frozen on the doorknob, Jax listened to her
husband skillfully screwing another woman while he
thought Jax was still at a Junior League meeting. It was
obvious to Jax that she was the one being screwed here, and
not in a good way. But the main thought dominating her
spinning brain, more than anger, hurt, or jealousy, was
this—her mother had been right and she would likely never,
ever let Jax forget it.

Jax pulled her hand back from the knob. Hearing her
husband’s affair was bad enough; there was no way she
wanted to see it too. Considering what to do next, Jax ran all
ten manicured fingers through her straight, perfectly cut and
highlighted blond hair and tried to think. Tiptoeing her
designer, kitten-heeled, alligator slides away from the door,
Jax pulled her cell phone out of this season’s hottest new
bag and reluctantly dialed the number of the one man who
could help her.

When he answered, she whispered, “Daddy? I need
your help.”