AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“He was a tragedy from the get-go.”
I sob as Severio walks us into the house.
16
WE’RE LIVING TOGETHER, DEAR
SEVERIO
The smell of pie in Cristina’s kitchen makes me want to bash Romeo’s brains into a pulp on the driveway, then make Cristina scoop out the fragments with a spoon while I lounge in the beach chair on their front lawn reading Shakespearean tragedies for inspiration for what to do with her next.
I hadn’t expected her to have a man at her house. When he opened the door, he surprised me. I almost killed him on the spot. Almost. But a man doesn’t get as far as I have by allowing people or circumstances to control his responses. Besides, I hire people to handle others for me.
Romeo’s jacket is folded neatly over the chair at the kitchen island. I pick it up and bring it to my nose. I sniff the jacket for Cristina’s perfume, and I inspect it for any traces of her. Like lip gloss. She’s always wearing it. Today’s color is peach, and I bet it tastes like peach too. Finding nothing, I fold it back on the chair before sitting down.
A plate of untouched pie sits before me, with a piece of eaten pie across from me. The fork over there is dirty, and it makes me wonder if she offered him a bite from her fork.
The image of the man’s brains splattered all over the grass comforts me.
Cristina’s on the other side of the island, looking out the window at where Drago’s working on the body on the closed-off side of the house by the kitchen.
Her hair’s pulled into a messy bun, and her chestnut-brown eyes are bright and swollen from crying. Her cheeks are red, her lips glistening with peach gloss, and she’s wearing pink pajamas. Also, she’s barefoot.
“I want to slap you again,” she says. “But it doesn’t work.”
“Come here and try.” Violence from such a benevolent woman turns me on. I spread my legs wider to give my growing erection more space.
Cristina comes to stand right in front of me. She swings, and I have to force myself to stay in place so she can land a good one. She’s angry with me again, and she has every right to be. Her slap stings a bit, and she shakes out her hand.
“Did you hurt your wrist?” I catch her hand. I bring her palm to my lips and kiss it, then bring her hand up to cup the side of my face she slapped.
“I’m sorry.” She starts crying. “I don’t know why I keep slapping you. I’ve never slapped anyone before, but you…but you, you infuriate me.”
“I must be special, then.”
She presses her lips together.
Our eyes meet, and I no longer wonder if she’s attracted to me. She is. It’s probably why she wants to hurt me. She hates being drawn to me. I hate being drawn to her too. I hate it so much that I grab her jaw and pull her, forcing her to stand between my legs. “It’s a little early in the day to have guests. Particularly men.”
“Yet here you are.”
Touché. I ignore it. “Did Romeo stay the night?”
“You sound like a jealous boyfriend.”
“I wouldn’t know what that sounds like since I don’t do girlfriends.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
The peach scent from her lip gloss drifts into my nose. I want to bite her bottom lip. “Believe it or not, I don’t date. I have fuck toys for what I need.” I don’t know why I’m telling her this. To watch her blush. To make her uncomfortable.
Maybe I want to hurt her like she keeps jabbing me. She tried to marry my uncle, and now I find a man in her house on a random Thursday morning. Sometimes, I look at her, and it feels like someone has taken an axe to my heart and is trying to hack at the armor I’ve built around it.
But now that I’ve told her I have women who are fuck toys, now that she pointed out how I’m acting like a jealous boyfriend, I can’t stand it. I can’t stand myself around her. I feel out of control. A mess.
It’s disgusting.
I take a deep breath and growl as I exhale and let my mask slip back on, allowing my chest to fill with emptiness. I need to get back to business. Gently, I push her away.
