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I bought both with my pocket money five years ago and gave them to him. I didn't know he actually wore them.
“Touch her again,” Luca’s smooth, whiskey-like voice says above me, “and you die.”
Luca may not care about me now, but I will make him fall in love with me, or I’ll die trying.
“You better be ready, Luca Rossi,” I whisper to the empty room, “because all’s fair in love and war.”
“Are we taking the chair with us?” I let go of the chair and move aside.
I don’t ever remember seeing a man look at a woman the way Bianca’s husband looks at her. It’s as if she is the single most important being in the whole universe.
“All right.” I shrug. Smile. And then splash the contents of the glass into his face. “Any other requests, husband?”
He covers me with a blanket and bends down to whisper in my ear, “If I see any other man touch you, he will die. It will be a very unpleasant death.” He adjusts the blanket around my shoulders. “And you won’t be satisfying your own pussy anymore. When you need your problem, as you called it, taken care of, you come to me. You got that, tesoro?”
I glare at the door and start counting to ten to calm myself. One. Let her go. Two. Not your problem. Three. I spring out of my chair, nearly ripping the door off its hinges as I rush out and straight across the open floor space beyond,
“You came into my house uninvited,” I say. “I’m going to call you whatever the fuck I want.”
But if saving Luca’s life means I need to take another’s, I’ll do it.
