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Men are so difficult.
“Do you have any more weapons I need to know about or can I kick you out of the room and deal with Mr. Holmes now?” I ask.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he says.
“You already dropped the gun. Why pull the knife?” I ask.
“I—I can’t do this. It’s wrong. And no one’s going to know. No one except you.”
“Learn to live with it or stop cheating on your wife.” I tighten my arm just a little more, cutting off his airflow so he can’t breathe. Or talk shit.
Mostly, the breathing part. But I enjoy the silence too. I mean, really, to cheat on his wife publicly then blame other people for his mess?
Take some personal responsibility.
I take my own deep breath and let out my own exhale. “Now, I don’t care if you live or die,” I say calmly, “but I don’t want to deal with staging a realistic suicide. So I’ll give you one more chance to leave in peace.”
He claws at my arm.
“If you prefer, you could try your hand in a fight to the death with me. Your choice.” There’s no threat in my voice. Only the matter-of-fact awareness of a woman who kills.
Matteo watches with wide eyes.
Playing his part.
Or shocked by my violence.
I’m not sure.
I don’t linger in it. I give Fuches time to make his choice.
My eyes betray me. Go to Matte’s tight jaw. His stacked shoulders. His hand on his gun.
He can step in.
But that’s not necessary.
“I know you can’t talk in this position,” I say with a little more threat in my voice. “So tap twice for yes. If you agree, I’ll release you, and you’ll leave quicky and quietly.”
I tighten my hold just enough to scare him.
He brings his hand to my arm and taps once. A long pause. Then once more.
“Could you remove Mr. Fuches’s things for me, Mr. Holmes?” I ask.
Matteo nods with all the deference he can muster. He stoops to grab Fuches’s bag, opens the door, and tosses it into the hallway.
I release Fuches. He stumbles through the door with a sharp gasp.
I slam the door shut behind him, and we listen as he runs down the stairs.
Matteo’s eyes find mine. They fill with a desire I recognize. And something I’ve never seen before, something I can’t explain.
“Fuck, Jamie,” he says, dumbstruck. “That was… fuck.”
He pulls me into his arms and kisses me like the ship is going down.
My leg curls around his hip.
