She rounded on her sister. “And you…”
“Careful,” I warned as Ellie stepped closer.
My wife’s sister stared at me. Her expression shifted from surprise to scheming. “Allie? Remember what I said on the phone?”
Allie searched her memories, “We said a few things.”
“Yeah, but, here’s the deal. I can accept that your… ugh… husband has mad perks, but he’s still just…well…not as scary as you think.” She studied me with her eyes narrowed. Then blurted out, “It’s-a-me-Mario! There. I said it to his face. Boo-yah.” Ellie dropped an invisible microphone, then spun on her heel and strutted from the room.
Ringo’s shoulders shook.
Firenze pretended to wipe his nose and stared outside to keep from laughing but the wrinkles near the corners of his eyes betrayed his amusement.
Joppa looked confused. Firenze quietly explained the reference.
Deep inside, I smiled. I’d count ridicule as acceptance.
16
Allie
Loppa wouldn’t leave Mario’s side while he and Ringo discussed the best way to approach Don Conti. I worried about his wound, but was also frustrated because Ellie was right.
I had a soft spot for anything wounded.
It made me pause outside the bedroom she’d been assigned. Between the villa’s two stories, there were five doubles and the bedroom suite on the top floor that Mario and I shared. My heart skipped a beat remembering how sweetly he’d made love to me in the soft morning light that lit up the view, but kept our little corner of the hillside in shadow.
I swallowed that down and braced myself to confront my sister. Sure, she’d left on a high note, teasing both me and Mario with her little act, but I knew her better. She was hurting.
I knocked lightly. “Hey, can we talk?” I spoke to the wood of the door.
A rustle, and then the notable click of her lock sounded in the quiet night. The door creaked as it opened.
Ellie was in a T-shirt and soft yoga pants I recognized. “You’re wearing my clothes.”
“Duh, you’ve got all my lingerie.”
Oh, right. “I can give half of it back if you want?” She packed so much, I could go two weeks without ever thinking about wearing anything twice.
Her eyes squeezed into slits of mistrust. “Half? Ew. You wore my underwear?”
I swallowed. This wasn’t going well. I’d come to offer an olive branch, check on her simmering anger, not provoke it further. “I’m sor?—”
“Bish. High five.” Ellie stuck her hand in the space between the door and the frame. Her grin was wide.
I tapped her palm with mine, still hesitant.
She swung the door open. “Spill. Was it the flowered baby doll, or the slinky purple number that did the trick?” She fanned her face dramatically.
“I’m not?—”
“Oh, come on. Which magic piece of lace tugged that stick out of his ass?”
Despite myself, I laughed once. My face heated.
“Big sis? Your ‘husband,’ he’s hot.”
It was my turn to fan myself, but I resisted. “We need to talk.”
