“Perhaps her hair isenchanted.” Scarlett emphasized the word “enchanted,” a sly look on her face.
“Will something happen to—” Nino belched and then pounded himself on the chest. “Scusami!Happen to m-me if I do? Touch her wig? I do not know about it being enchanted, but I do know that it ispazzo.What am I saying?No, I do not mean crazy,wild.”
Lev couldn’t control his laughter any longer and laughed until his face turned red.
Scarlett threw a dishtowel at Nino’s face. It hit him square in the nose.
He blinked, looking at the dishtowel, and then at Scarlett.
She sighed, turned around, and got back to work.
As quickly as the light mood had floated in, the dark mood had overtaken it again.
If Lev looked at my wife in that same way again—yearning to reach in and take her sorrow, through physical touch or emotional, I wouldn’t be able to control my actions.
Debt or fucking not.
I emerged out of the shadows, coming face to face with the room, and Nino jumped from his spot, standing tall. Lev took another long swig from the bottle, eyes closing in ecstasy.
Patting Nino on the shoulder, I dismissed him to bed. He was in no form to protect anyone. He couldn’t even dodge a dishtowel thrown at him from my wife. It was his off night, so he wasn’t in any trouble for drinking.
Nino staggered off, muttering to himself about enchanted hair.
I gave the head guard orders to clear the pool area and keep everyone away from it. The other guard did as told, and taking the hint, Lev lifted his bottle to me and vanished into the shadows without a sound.
Scarlett had gotten to work on a new circle of raw dough, kneading on the counter. “Do people always obey you?” she murmured. “Just like—” She snapped her fingers.
Slipping my hands around her waist, setting my lips on her neck, I asked her what she was doing. “Cosa fai?”
“Kneading dough.”
“No time for smartass remarks,” I whispered, sliding my nose up her neck, kissing behind her ear. “Tell me.”
She shivered and put her hands against my arms, sliding them down until our hands met and entwined. Then she had me help her knead the dough.
“Zopf. A Swiss bread. Remember, we had it? It’s braided?”
“Yeah,” I said, watching her face, but having a hard time paying attention to anything but how she was moving our hands in harmony. “But Zopf could’ve waited until the dawn, baby.”
“I—” She stopped moving for a moment, shaking her head before she started up again. The texture of it was changing, becoming less sticky and more elastic. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Closing my eyes, I could feel the tension in her muscles, straining against her skin. “You didn’t wake me up.”
“You need your sleep.”
“I need you more.”
I could feel her eyes on me through the glass. Opening mine, I met her heated stare. She looked down at the dough again, gave it one last knead, and then untangled our hands. She set the smooth ball in a shallow bowl, covered it, and then placed it next to the other bowls.
She went to protest when I shut the oven off.
“It’ll do,” I said. “I need my wife more than anything else needs her right now.”
Taking her hand, I led her to the indoor pool. Undressing the both of us, I picked her up, taking her with me into the water, submerging everything but her head.
The water was tepid, while outside of the glass, snow came down in sheets, and the Matterhorn was outlined in white, illuminated even further by the light of a full moon. Its reflection created silver ripples on the water.
The scent of her melon shampoo and rose lotion seemed to waft off her in purls of steam, and when she touched my face, the smell of raw dough lingered on her skin.
