She refused to let me carry her at the event, but I stood close, watching as she took her time, shaking at least two hundred hands that sought her out. Having to curb my instinct to snap wrists whenever a hand came out to touch her stomach made me drink my fair share of whiskey. It was an impulse, almost too wild to contain.
Sick of hearing me growl deep in my throat, Scarlett asked me to grab her a water, since alcohol was the prominent drink on the menu. Before I could grab it, a tall blonde busting out of her dress put a hand to my arm, stopping me.
I stared at it until she moved it. She introduced herself—she was a journalist—and mentioned that she used to follow me on Instagram before I deleted the account. She asked if I would mind answering a few questions for her readers. Then she asked me if I had a favorite sexual position.
Her voice went even lower, her eyes softer, and she moved in closer. “I want to lick your teeth.”
Before I could remove myself from the conversation, a voice behind me answered in my place.
“All of them.” Scarlett walked up to us, as smooth as ever, even with the absurd heels and a stomach tight enough to explode at any moment. I gave her my arm and she took it, stepping closer to me.
At the sight of her, the woman took a step back, smiling politely. No remorse on her face, though.
Scarlett smiled back, but it was far from genial. “He especially loves to have me from behind, while I’m screaming out his name. Make sure you write—”
I led Scarlett away from the woman, toward the bar. Her hold on my arm was tight.
“Let’s go,” she said, pulling me in the direction of the exit. “I’m done.”
The driver of the armored car drove on without me telling him where to go, since the destination was known beforehand. Our men blended. I had planned a surprise for my wife.
Her mood had taken a dark turn, though, and she stared out of the window, hand on her stomach, fingers drumming, muttering snide remarks about licking teeth, sometimes in languages I didn’t understand, but I knew enough to understand the tone.
I wasn’t sure if it was the conversation with the woman that had turned her mood, or something else. I had sensed it earlier, before the incident with the journalist.
Scarlett sat up straighter, keeping her hand to her stomach, and tapped on the driver’s seat. She asked him in Italian to pull over.
He looked at me through the rearview mirror and I nodded once. Scarlett scowled at the man. If he knew what was good for him, he’d find a spot to park pronto. Rarely did she lose her temper, but she was on edge, and she didn’t appreciate being overridden.
Five minutes later, he found a spot and smoothed the car in. Then he stepped out, taking a cigarette break while he waited for us.
I didn’t have time to even turn to her. She already had her heels off, her mouth and hands ravenous, almost attacking me as she rushed to straddle me in the back seat. Attempting to. Her stomach got in the way. There wasn’t much room to maneuver, not like before. Agile or not, it didn’t change the fact that a mountain came between us. One that kicked out, becoming too cramped in his or her tight space.
Besides, something else was going on. This wasn’t just about sex or wanting to be close. Part of my wife’s desperation was due to that woman, I knew. The other part—I had no fucking clue.
“Baby,” I said, when I was able to get a word in. “Aspettare.”
“Wait?” she breathed. “Take your pants off, Brando.”
Even biting my lip, I couldn’t stop the smile.
She thumped me hard against the chest with her small fists, in no mood to be trifled with. “You’re laughing at me!” She thumped me again and my laughter exploded out.
“You’re being sassy all of a sudden. No. Bossy.Take your pants off,” I mimicked her.
Her face surged red. Her eyes narrowed. Her lips became severe. She stopped pummeling me, but her fingers were still balled into fists. “You’re doing this to get back at me.”
The venom in her voice shocked me. I went to put my hands over hers, but she yanked them away. “You’re doing this because I saidnoto you. Before. Now you’re sayingnoto me.”
“You’d know it if I said no.” I took her wrists, not letting her fight me, and placed them against my chest again.
“What are you saying then?”
“Wait.Aspettare. We need to figure out a way to move in here. That’s safe.”
“I don’t think that’s what you’re saying at all.”
Our eyes held.
