Page 8 of Beautiful & Dirty

I wipe a tear from my eyes and chuckle. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Bring the lady my favorite pizza,” I reply, also in Italian.

“Did you say pizza?” Shae asks, leaning over the table toward me with another one of those eager, tempting smiles. I don’t know how old she is, but she seems young and innocent enough to smile at a man who even makes babies frown; a man who makes priests reconsider the possibilities for human redemption; a man with so much blood on his hands, they’ll never be clean again. And I’m not stupid, I know that innocence is part of why she’s driving me wild, but that doesn’t explain the laughter; the lightness I’ve never felt before.

I can feel the laughter bubbling up in my gut again. It feels… strange, but I love it. I nod to Adriana, dismissing her, and turn to Shae. “We make wonderful pizza here,” I tell her proudly, as if I give a shit about the food, as if I’m really a restauranteur.

“I know,” she whispers. “I looked at all the Yelp reviews.”

Adorable.

“What kind did you order?”

I lean toward her. We’re not close enough to touch, even though I want to trace my finger around her palm or run a thumb over her cheek. “It’s a surprise,” I whisper with a wink.

“I don’t like surprises,” she says as her gaze drifts away again, and her nose wrinkles in distaste.

“Is it a boyfriend?”

Her eyes snap back to mine before she ducks her head again. “I came here with my boyfriend,” she says as she lifts her head. “Well, not to Naples. He’s in Rome. He missed our train.”

“And you didn’t wait?” I ask, and she stiffens. “Good. Never wait for a man. They will never be worth it.”

She relaxes, a nervous smile spreading over her mouth. “Should you be saying that? As a man?”

“Absolutely,” I say, swatting my hand in the air between us as if I’m batting the question away. “Who knows better than a man how terrible we can be?”

“You don’t seem terrible,” she whispers shyly.

So young. So naïve. So pure.

I wonder if Flavia was ever so innocent. I’m certain I never was. I can’t remember a time when I could have looked at a man like me and thought I was anything but terrible, not just because I’ve done terrible things, but because I don’t regret any of them.

I could tell Shae this. I could detail all the ways I’m certainly worse than her boyfriend, but I don’t want to. I don’t want her to stop looking at me with awe and arousal. I don’t want her to look at me the way my wife does. I don’t want this moment between us to end, and I’m willing to lie to her — by omission — to make sure that it doesn’t.

“I’m harmless,” I tell her. “I wouldn’t hurt you.” The last part isn’t a lie, and maybe that can count for something. I happily delude myself right along with her.

“I believe you,” she says quickly, and those three words make me feel brand new, like the kind of man I’ve never been and never will be.

We stare at each other for heated seconds, and I know exactly how this moment between us would go if I weren’t married. I’d take her across town to my apartment. I’d strip her slowly, wanting to draw out the experience of baring her flesh for as long as possible, running my mouth and tongue over each new piece of skin, tasting her as I see her. I’d want her to undress me just as slowly, pressing her skin — which I know will be as soft as I imagine — against mine. I imagine her laid across my bed — a bed I haven’t shared with Flavia in over a decade — on her back, her arms and legs open for me to taste every inch of her. I know that I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth off of her. Even now, I’m trying to imagine what she would taste like — her skin, her mouth, her cunt — and I know I could lose myself devouring her. I’d want to make her gasp and moan and scream underneath me, coming on my tongue long before I pushed my dick inside her and started the process over again. I’d want to hear my name on her lips as I fucked her until we were both spent.

I imagine I’d be gentle at first, but eventually, I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from exposing who I really am; demanding, relentless, and possessive when there’s something I want. Something I need. And even though I don’t know her, I know that I need her in a way I’ve never needed my wife. And I’d want to mark her the way I’ve never wanted to mark my wife. I know that if given the chance, I’d want to dig my fingers so deep into her flesh that I leave bruises. I’d want to watch the soft welting marks from my teeth bloom on her breasts. And in the end, I’d want to see a small puddle of my come on her flesh, assuming I could stop myself from releasing inside her and marking her in a more permanent way.

If I were unencumbered, I wouldn’t be satisfied with one afternoon with Shae. I’d want to take her long into the night, and again when we woke up, and again and again. I’d want her to forget her boyfriend, and I’d fuck her until she did. Until she was well and truly mine.

But I am encumbered, and not just with a wife. Still, I’m considering it, considering taking her upstairs to the rooms I rent to the associates more committed to the work than anything else like Giulio. Flavia wouldn’t care; she might not even notice if I’m away for a night or two, but she’s not the biggest responsibility on my shoulders. And just as I think that, I see a large hulking figure out of the corner of my eye. I turn to see Alfonso looking at me across the dining room. I nod at him, and he slinks back into the shadows to wait.

My body stiffens, and my entire mood darkens. Reluctantly, I sit back in my chair, needing to put some distance between us. I see the disappointment and embarrassment on Shae’s face, and I hate that I’ve made her feel that way, but I’ve always been a disappointment to people who expected me to be someone I’m not; someone better.

“I have to go attend to some business,” I tell her in a careful voice.

She sits back in her chair, presses her lips together, and nods quickly. She tries to smile. “I understand. Th-thank you,” she says in a small voice. It almost breaks my heart, which is a shock since I’d convinced myself that I don’t have one of those, not anymore.

“Everything is on the house. My treat,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to do that.”

I can’t help but smile again. When was the last time I met someone whodidn’twant something from me? Too long to remember. I stand from my chair but reach out to grab her hand, giving in to the need I’ve felt since she walked in to touch her. Her skinisas soft as I imagined. I caress her knuckles with my thumb and then bend over to brush my mouth over her skin. I keep my eyes locked on hers, drinking in the heated stare she’s giving me that I wish I could take advantage of.

“Enjoy your meal, bella,” I whisper against her skin before walking away.

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