“His face was made for it. Part of who he was.”
“Yours could handle it,” I said. Thinking of how fine he would be even when time got a hold of him. Those blue eyes against tan skin, black hair that only lightened in the sun but was like spilled ink when wet, a square jaw, eyebrows that were manly but not in an overgrown forest way, and a nose that was straight and thin, but masculine enough to fit the dangerous vibe he gave off. He was chiseled with imperfections that only made him that much more perfect.
His hand closed over mine. “Handle this.” Then he set two of my digits over the top part of the blade itself, and the other two wrapped around the handle, settling between my middle and ring finger. “Stability. Holding it that way will give you some. Or—” he showed me another way and told me to pick whichever way made me more comfortable.
“Are you sure I can handlethis—” I kept my fingers like he’d first taught me, moving the razor back and forth in demonstration.
He moved my hand over his chest and, before I knew what he was doing and could yank back, sliced a line over his heart using my hand. “Living scars us, Butterfly. But at least it’s done by a hand who doesn’t mean me harm—yet,” he added.
“Yet?” My eyebrows rose at that.
“Give it time.” He grinned. “We all have daggers, just depends on who we choose to use them on. It’s been my experience that those closest to us are ready to use them first.”
How could I even respond to that? Instead, I set the razor on the counter and stuck my finger to the slice he’d made. Maybe he thought that way, or felt that way, but…I didn’t want to hurt him. I wanted to protect him. That thought made me remember the thoughts I’d had in a Sicilian church, when the light from the stained glass fell on his face.
He had become the mosaic—the glass holding back the tide. His throat. Someone had tried to destroy all his defenses. Whoever it was had shattered him, and then he’d put himself back together. The hard, metallic lines that keep the glass whole were so apparent on his face, if someone had enough courage to see.
I need to disappear yet be seen.
Ti vedo.
I see you.
I see right through the beautiful blue shattered glass. I see the hard lines that keep you together. I have the courage to see past the hunter and into the man’s eyes that connect to a beating heart.
I see you, my husband. I see you, my capo. I see you, my heart. I see you, my everything.
His hand came over mine, and I realized“Cuando Me Enamoro” still played. He must have set it on repeat.
Without a word spoken between us, he started to move me around the bathroom to the beat of the song, and somehow, wordlessly, his body taught mine how to dance. How to allow him to lead. Then I sat him down and shaved his face. A shiver moved over him from the softness of my touch, hopefully erasing the blunt-edged memory of the knife at his throat.
9
MARI
“Cuando Me Enamoro” hung around in my head while the helicopter flew over Santorini. The tender usually took us from the yacht to land, but given the circumstances of our arrival, it seemed like Capo took matters into his own hands, and we flew over from the helipad on the yacht.
No complaints from me. The view was breathtaking from this high, and I knew up close it was going to be an experience I’d never forget. My hands twitched against the camera, my mind imagining touching everything. The island was alive with textures and colors that matched the sea surrounding it—the blinding white of the stone houses, the blue roofs over the churches, the wooden doors and shutters, all matching the mosaic colors of the water. The sun sizzled, and the day was already hot, but the sea reminded me of a cool drink in a shimmering glass.
My feet touched the ground, and I was ready to run. I absorbed the entire place, trying to soak it up through my skin and my camera. What I hadn’t noticed was the bright color of all the hot pink bougainvillea that either grew wild or wasplanted to lay like perfectly positioned scarves over doors. Or it spilled over the white cubic houses that were stacked on the mountainside like vibrant paint.
The entire place seemed to reflect its surroundings, and in the blazing sunlight, the colors were almost neon. It was a competition between my sunglasses and my camera—which one I had in front of my eyes the most.
It wasn’t my day or Capo’s to choose something to do, so we lingered along the steep streets, nowhere to go. Though I had some shopping on my mind, and I told Capo that.
He lifted his brows but said nothing. I knew if I didn’t spend some money, he would tell me I wasn’t holding up my side of the arrangement. So, I started buying things here and there, souvenirs for us, collectables for Capo’s family, and gifts I thought Keely might like. I mostly bought things from the market, items that were handmade to support the locals. But today…I had a dress in mind, and even though I was okay with buying clothes that were not from a fancy brand, I had a feeling this dress might be more expensive than usual, because in my head it seemed special.
I actually had no problem spending Capo’s money. He had plenty of it, and it was part of our arrangement. But it was still new to me to be able to buy whatever I wanted, and more than one. If I loved a shoe, he would encourage me to buy the same one in different colors. When we ordered food, I paused before I added anything on to our main order. Plenty of times in my life, I had to choose between rent and groceries, and it was going to take more time for me to get used to not having to worry about that aspect of my life.
It was getting late, and we were staying at a hotel on land for a night or two. The streets were crowded; Santorini seemed more touristy, but I loved that Capo had arranged to stop at destinations that were and those that weren’t. After dinner ata seaside restaurant where Capo had his fill of fresh oysters, I could barely keep my eyes open.
It took a lot to wear me out, and Capo finished the job after we got home.
The next morning, we took our breakfast in bed and then hit the streets again. It was another bright day, and something in me clung to the freedom I found in it.
“I want to do more shopping,” I said to Capo while I window shopped.
He glanced at me and then nodded. “Different area?”
