The Reconstruction of Carla Millhouse by Candy Caine

numerous ones she spent crying herself to sleep following Salvatore’s departure, she knew she would never forget them.
    And now, he was trying to get back into her life expecting her to drop everything and come running. Well, not so fast. This girl was no longer as naïve as she’d once been.
    She would go to him, but on her terms. And yet, even though the thought of his slow hands slipping down her body could still churn her juices, she wasn’t ready to throw away everything she worked so hard to obtain. She needed to have more money for safe keeping stashed away before she dashed off to Italy. Therefore, she quickly reined in those evocative memories before she slid down that slippery slope to self destruction.
    “So , il mia americana bella , when can you start divorce proceedings and get here? Half of Mr. Hemmings’ money will get us a nice place.”
    “Are you for real? I haven’t heard from you in five years and you snap your fingers and expect me to just come running?”
    “My love for you is not affected by time,” Salvatore said in his silky voice.
    “Even if I wanted to, I can’t come, Salvatore.”
    “And why is that?”
    “There’s no money if I divorce Orson.”
    There was a pregnant pause. “And why not—don’t tell me you signed a stupid prenuptial?” his voice was sharply critical.
    Defensively, Heather replied, “It wasn’t stupidity at the time, but a necessity. Had I not signed it, there’d have been no wedding.”
    This was another moment of silence, then Salvatore said, almost casually, “There are other ways to get his money, some more inventive than others.”
    With her calculating kind of mind she knew immediately what he was hinting at. Her blood ran cold. What he was asking was not something she could take lightly. He interrupted her thoughts.
    “Patience, amore , is a virtue and one that I don’t possess much of. Do come soon.”
    “Do try to find some patience, Salvatore,” she replied, coolly, and broke the connection.
    Her cockiness was all bravado. Frustration and disappointment whipped through her in a millisecond. Heather banged the steering wheel with her palm, cursing, before collapsing on top of it, sobbing. Why now? Couldn’t he have called before she married Orson? And why hadn’t she truly gotten over Salvatore? Why did he have the power to make her want to run straight back into his arms?
    A good ten minutes passed before Heather had cried herself out. Once she had regained her composure, she started the car engine and backed out of the parking spot. Maybe it was time to look at options on how to have Orson’s money without Orson. That Haywood incident had started her thinking that maybe Orson was just trying to find a way to get rid of her. How was she going to deal with that? Her mind began to sift through possibilities.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Sixteen
    Carla had found a simple black cocktail dress at Macy’s. Trying it on, she was able to see the difference her weight loss had made so far. It fit her newly found curves like a glove. Hopefully Richard would like it. The last thing she ever wanted to do was embarrass him. She realized that the real reason was to please him, but didn’t want to travel down that road. It should be Martin’s opinion that mattered, so she let the thought drop.
    Now dressed in her black dress and strappy, high black heels, and wearing makeup—something she hadn’t done in a long time—she felt damn good about herself. She drove to the Hyatt Regency in downtown Phoenix. It was a convention hotel that towered over most of the other buildings at 317 feet. On the 24 th floor was a revolving restaurant, The Compass, which was where the Christmas party was taking place. The restaurant rotated slowly offering its patrons breathtaking views of Phoenix. And if that wasn’t enough, there were two glass-enclosed elevators and three exterior elevators, which glided upward from the lobby, through the atrium, and finally, on