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“Well, help me stop it already!” Her glare only made him laugh harder.
Montrell didn’t bother to step in. Vespa had felt guilty for encouraging the young woman to fight if she wanted to fight. Vespa thought everyone should fight. Especially women. As he watched them interact, it was as if a tension she’d been carrying slipped away.
“I’ve never seen Vespa quite like that,” Beatrice commented from beside him.
Montrell shook his head in amusement. “I have.” He used to force hugs on her all the time. Her bristling had been more than half the fun, but with the shit Vespa had put up with over the years, he’d also thought she’d needed them. His gaze shifted to his wife. She was another woman who needed all the hugs in the world, but he knew better than to offer them.
Her smile fell as her eyes searched his. “Are you okay?” she murmured.
It shouldn’t have surprised him. Montrell was an open book, but he was also burly and hard-looking. Very few people had ever shown him concern. Back when they were first courting, she’d asked him the same question, and because her concern had been genuine, he’d fallen in love.
His fingers flexed with the sudden need to grab her. He didn’t. He also didn’t answer, his throat too tight to let the words out.
Beatrice looked away. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here. If you ever want that.” Her heels clipped as she started toward the Di Salvos’ front door.
He took a breath, watching Vespa convince the young Russian woman to keep the gun she’d given her, and for the first time, he considered what he wanted out of his marriage. Up until then, he’d only thought about what would be good for Beatrice.
But damn, did he want her. He wanted the partner that she could be, and he wanted every moment he could steal at her side. He wanted the relationship that they could have because it would be good for him as well.
He wanted it all, even if she wasn’t ready to hear it yet.
Chapter 15
Beatrice needed some time alone when they returned to the estate, so of course Vespa took that moment to chase after her.
“Hey, hold up!” she called, grabbing her arm.
Beatrice had been intent on her escape, and the sudden jerk caused her to wobble on her heels. She glared at the woman.
Vespa glared back, but her hand dropped. “I just need to clear the air. About earlier.”
Beatrice stared at her.
Vespa shifted, glancing around.
A whole crowd of Coronellas was staring back, Montrell included. He was smiling, though, while the others winced and looked away.
“Goddammit,” Vespa muttered, grabbing her arm again.
Beatrice let herself be dragged to the same bathroom where she’d bandaged up a drunken Montrell.
Vespa slammed the door behind them. She grabbed the tight bun at the back of her head as she scowled. “A few of them are probably pressing their ears against the door, but whatever. I’m sorry, okay?”
And then Beatrice remembered how she’d started her day: watching Montrell grin and laugh in Vespa’s face while the other woman was straddling his lap.
She felt stupid. How big of her, to offer Montrell an ear to talk to. Her husband had the perfect person right there, who knew exactly how he felt about his mother. And suddenly she was jealous, just like Montrell had accused her of being.
It made her words tighter as she lifted an eyebrow and folded her arms. “Is that supposed to be an apology?”
Vespa flushed. “Yes, dammit. I know what it looked like, and I had no business being in your husband’s lap. I mean, it’s not like that between us, but it’s still wrong.” She actually looked a little embarrassed.
Which pissed Beatrice off more. “So you humping him wasn’t like that?”
“I wasn’t humping him!” Vespa’s gaze flew to the door, and she lowered her voice. “Look, he’s my best friend, and I forget he’s a guy sometimes. That’s all.”
It was easy to picture Montrell in the bathroom. His thick body had taken up all the space the other night. His brown eyes had been extra sexy, all dopey like that. And there was never any missing his full beard. “Bullshit. Montrell is all man.”
Vespa glared at the floor this time as she tugged on her hair. “I mean, I know he’s a man. But he and I, we’re not like that. I don’t see him as sexual.”
