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“I’m fine with?—”
Corrado slides his hand between my thighs and shuts me up immediately.
“Michela can’t drink,” he says. “She’s pregnant.” He squeezes my thigh, and when I stare at him wide-eyed, he smiles, showing me those dimples again.
Someone, please put this crazy man away.
Since there’s no way he’ll pay for a real ring while in a fake marriage, I’m starting to think he enjoys watching me squirm, but that would mean he pays attention to what his behavior does to me, which he probably doesn’t. It’s more likely that he’s merely entertaining himself. I play along.
“Oh,” the lady next to me says. “You sure move quickly, dear. Congratulations.”
Another older woman comes over to Stephania and draws her attention.
Corrado leans in. “Is there something wrong with your food?”
I shake my head. “It’s a bit much to digest this late in the night for a woman in my condition.”
Corrado hisses and drops his utensils. “If you please me any more than you already have, I will dismiss all these people so that you and I can enjoy the dinner all by ourselves.” He slaps my thigh and squeezes harder this time.
I swallow because his touch turns me on, as does the way his eyes meet mine and stare deep inside my soul.
He breaks eye contact and sweeps his hand across the table.
“I was just telling my wife,” he says, and everyone stops talking, drinking, eating. Even the music tones down. “How much I enjoy pampering her and how her benevolence makes me want to reward her even more. I want to reward all those who come forward and are honest about their intentions this evening, since we all know rules were broken tonight.”
The mood in the space changes and becomes charged with danger.
“I don’t think I have to remind any of you of the rules, but I will anyhow. The endgame is stability, prosperity, and peace.” He raises the glass. “The Head rests.”
The entire space responds, “The Body follows.”
Strange. They all go back to what they were doing before he spoke, and when the music cues back up again, I taste a piece of meat. Cooked medium rare, it’s soft, but not chewy, and the tang of butter and what I believe is orange zest coats it perfectly so that the combination causes an explosion of flavor on my tongue. Rolling my eyes to the back of my head, I moan, “This is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “The chef is a friend of mine.”
“Is everyone here a friend of yours?”
“No, they’re all business partners.”
The music is loud enough to cover our conversation, but Corrado speaks covertly, often at my ear, with his drink raised to the level of his mouth. I guess when one lies about his wife and her pregnancy, one’s bound to speak in secrecy.
Once the service staff clears the table, I lean back and pat my full belly. “I’m well-fed, married, and pregnant. What’s next?” I mumble to myself.
Corrado surprises me with an answer. “Three kids, two golden retrievers, and a pony named Lofty.”
“Then one sunny morning, I slide in a key into your car, and the next thing you know, you’re crying at my funeral ’cause someone blew up your car with me in it.” That came out worse than I imagined it in my head. Not funny at all. My smile falters when Corrado glares.
“I’m joking,” I say, knowing I went too far, but still wishing he would deny that what happened to Apollonia in The Godfather would happen to me. Corrado is important enough to command this room full of scary people. They respect and fear him.
“My car is keyless,” he says.
He’s not denying it. What have I gotten myself into?
7
GOODBYE (FOR NOW)
CORRADO
