A group of men sat around a table. Even though I couldn’t see their faces, the tension was thick, along with a dense fog of smoke. In the glow of the torches, it purled, a haze of it lingering outside of the room, hiding me.
It didn’t take me long to find him. He was seated at the table, listening to the men around him speaking. My brother, Matteo, sat next to him. I could have been wrong, but I was almost positive Vincenzo was at the table, too. A few women circulated around the room. They were all naked, painted gold.
Maybe they were there to serve drinks. Maybe not. But when one of them took her hand and slid it around Saverio’s shoulder, her mouth coming close to his ear, something inside of me cracked.
The moment I went to slip my ring off, he looked up. Our eyes crashed, but this time in a fatal way.
“Come,” said a voice from deep inside. “Join us.”
My eyes blinked, causing me to focus on the voice, not the wreck that my heart felt like.
Maybe I was being irrational, but the image of that woman with her arm around Saverio, her lips next to his ear, her breasts pressed against his body…it made me want to hurt him. I’d never experienced that before. A rush of fire that made me wish I could burn someone from across the room.
I never imagined him with someone else before.
I was seeing it.
Saverio narrowed his eyes and then easily removed the woman’s arm from around his shoulder.
The man at the head of the table spoke again. “Come, little bird,” he said with a heavy Russian accent. “I promise not to cage you in.” He was the only one not wearing a mask.
The men at the table laughed, except for Saverio, whose eyes were narrowing even further when I started to walk.
When I was fully in, the man whistled and said something to the man next to him in the same language. I had some of the language, but my mind couldn’t keep up. The man next to him looked at me appreciatively and nodded.
“What is your name, little bird?”
I stuck my chin up, even if my heart pounded in my throat. It wasn’t from fear. It was from pure anger and hurt. “GigiBrighton,” I said with a French accent.
A line of smoke purled from the man’s mouth and then through his nose. “Come, Gigi,” he said. “Sit with me.” He patted his knee.
I asked him his name in French.
“Fuck me,” he said, laughing. “This one is brave. My name is Fedor.”
Not Livia’s husband then. Even though Fedor’s voice sounded much older, he was probably around Saverio’s age—maybe a little older. Mid-thirties?
As I took slow steps toward Fedor, he turned to the men at the table. “The women in this country know how to please. Do they not? This one is a little innocent. Unless…she is pretending.” He got the reaction he wanted and then turned back to me. “I am in love already.” His eyes lowered to almost slits and he stood, snapping his finger in the air.
The music changed. Something straight out of a nightclub. Something straight out of mamma and papà’s time. Instead of wanting me on his knee, he opened his arms, waiting for me to dance into them.
I had to stop myself from laughing. He wanted to dance with me—to—thismusic. I almost had the urge to throw my hands up and punch my fists to the beat of the music. It felt ridiculous.
He smiled; half of his lip cocked up. “Dancing says so much about what a couple can do together in bed, innocent little bird.”
Saverio stood abruptly from his chair when I got close to Fedor’s waiting arms. The Italians around him eyed him suspiciously until the moment of recognition hit Matteo’s eyes. He stood, too, his eyes moving from me to the man to the opening that led out of this room. The Italians all stood, followed by whoever else was sitting at the table.
It was a move men make when they are preparing to react.
I stopped in front of Saverio before I made it to Fedor. He always told me we had a secret language. I hoped my eyes were saying all my mouth couldn’t.
I hope this hurts you as much as that little scene hurt me…
A step closer and Saverio stood between us, moving me to the side. His grip on my hip burned through the silk, and I knew it was going to leave a mark. It was also the only thing keeping me standing. That weightless feeling had increased, numbing everything but the pain in my heart. It was almost…highlighting it.
Saverio looked Fedor in the eye. He shook his head. “This one is mine,” he said with an Italian accent.
“Who says?” He tilted his head to the side, studying Saverio harder.
