“What happened to her hair?”
“Decided to cut it off.”
“But she’s a ballerina.”
“Yeah.” I smirked.
“She looks—” his eyes scanned the picture “—like Scarlett, but a naughty version of her.”
Mitch had never seen her dance underground, so he had no idea how sexual she could be. Only Mick knew, and as much as I despised the thought, the secret felt safer with him. Though Mitch was a good friend, his thoughts were wild, and he’d use them for his benefit if he needed inspiration at night.
“Who’s the dude?”
“One of Luca’s guys. The tattoo brands him.”
“Why does he have his hand around her waist like that? She’s all lit up.” He lifted the picture closer to his eyes. “He looksreallyfamiliar.”
“I know when it was taken. She was drinking.” The voice in the background called herbella.
“Drinking and Scarlett—”
“I know,” I said, taking another drink of water.
It didn’t take long for alcohol to work on Scarlett. Her cheeks would turn pink, her speech would come a bit slower, more sexy, her laughter a bit raspier, and she would laugh at anything, no matter if it was funny or not. When she would really get going, she’d throw her head back and howl like a witch.
She would glow from the inside out, like candlelight in the bedroom, the alcohol her flame. Her eyes seemed to hold the sun—and not only when she was drinking. It seemed brighter when every inhibition was lost though.
I never knew which version of my wife I would get that night, whether she would send me to heaven or hell. She’d either beg for it slow and long, or she’d rake me over the coals, her body demanding that I go harder, deeper, and even longer. Either way, she’d send me out of my damn mind.
Bella.
“Brando?” Mitch’s voice came out slow, like he was attempting to calm a wild animal.I’m not here to hurt you.“I know you, man. If you ever thought that she—you would have already killed the fucker. You’re plotting. That’s worse than being impulsive.”
“I need more proof.”
“It’s hard to believe that she would—”
“Almost impossible. But there it is.”
He picked up the picture again, bringing it closer to his face. “Who gave you this?”
“Luca Fausti.” I grinned.
“I bet he loved that.”
“Oh yeah,” I said, nodding. “We’ve never gotten into specifics about who she is or what she does. He knows all, though, and her being her was enough for him to tell me that I was enough of a bastard not to deserve her. Now, if I was like him—a different story. I’d deserve the entire world.”
“He thinks you should have married one of his vending machine women?Pick a wife.”
“Yeah.Famiglia-approved.”
“Yeah, but none of them are…Scarlett.”
“Not even close.”
“Nothing matters to him,” Mitch said, digging in the bag for a few more seeds. His eyes became even firmer on the water as he spit out the mangled shells. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t. He loves to fuck with your head. Always has. But what surprises me the most is that you let him.”
“He tells me the truth.”
