Page 183 of A Beautiful Crime

He’s a handsome man. Not as handsome as my husband, of course, but handsome indeed. Even what is perceived as flaws only attribute to his attractiveness. The crooked nose from it being broken one to many times adds to the dangerous aura. The scar that slashes from his right eye to the corner of his left lip accentuates his bone structure. And you see just how roguish his mouth is. I imagine women have dreamt of what a kiss from him would feel like.

He possesses a natural sex appeal. And he owns it.

Constantine and I had decided to mix business with pleasure. So, for our delayed honeymoon we came here to Cuba. Specifically to handle a new business deal with Alvaro’s new drug, Eden. His cocaine is the purest in the world, and it has made both parties insanely wealthy. He has no need to push a new drug but I sense Alvaro is a man who is always hungry.

“Do we have a deal or not?” I ask him as I cross my legs. The fabric of my dress rides up my sun kissed thigh. His eyestake notice. So do my husband’s. Constantine splays his hand over my bare flesh in an act of ownership. I secretly love it when he gets jealous. His possession makes more than just my heart flutter.

Alvaro leans in, takes another puff of his cigar before resting it between his lips and claps loudly. “We have a deal, Donna. Eden is coming to The United States with a beautiful partnership.”

I smile over my red glass of wine. I then raise it in the air and both men follow suit. “To new business.”

“To new business,” they cheer in unison.

We all take a drink of our respective glasses.

As the dinner carries on between laughter, more drinks, exquisite food and easy conversation Constantine’s hand hasn’t moved from my thigh once.

If anything, his hand has only crept higher throughout the night. It’s a delicious slow torture that has kept me on the edge of anticipation. Pleasure sluices through my veins as my body burns for him.

Somewhere along the many conversations we’ve had tonight I’ve lost the ability to keep track. Being gentlemen neither of them have made a comment. They’ve only carried the conversation as I’ve gone silent.

Perhaps Alvaro will believe I’ve had too much wine but my devil of a husband knows the wiser.

“The night is still so young,” Alvaro sings. It’s approaching midnight but to nightlife the night has just begun. “You should go dancing. Experience what a night Cuba has to offer compared to your city of lights.”

Constantine’s hand squeezes my thigh, his thumb dangerously close to where I ache the most. “Perhaps another night,” he says.

Alvaro’s face falls with feign disappointment. “You can’t possibly tell me you two young lovebirds don’t want to dance the night away.”

“I have a different dance in mind,” my husband says, laying quite heavy on the innuendo. My cheeks immediately heat.

“Sí,” he agrees with a sly smile on his face. “With a wife as stunning as yours it would be the only dancing I cared for, too.” He winks mischievously. “Have you ever thought of adding a partner?”

Constantine’s hand moves from my thigh to collar my throat. It’s a bold claim. A blatant state of not only ownership but possession. “I don’t share my dance partner.”

“Sí, I can see to that very well.” He takes the last swallow of alcohol from his tumbler. “Well, if your mind ever changes. . .”

“It won’t,” he answers on a hard note.

“Then I shall let you two go and have fun dancing. And if there is anything the two of you need while staying here don’t hesitate to call.”

Alvaro gifted us a stay in one of his homes. We accepted and have enjoyed his lavish touches mixed with Cuba’s culture still seen throughout the house.

“Stay out of trouble,” Constantine says as he rises from the chair. Lending me a hand I rise as well. His arm comes to settle around me, plastering me to his side. I rest my hand affectionately over his chest. My heart warms knowing what resides beneath his unbuttoned shirt.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” He winks.

I roll my eyes at his antics. I wave goodbye as I’m led out into the night.

The house in which we are staying is only a ten minute walk down the beach. Before we begin to stroll along the sand I bend to take care of my heels.

Not even able to unhook the strap, I'm swept off my feet. I yelp in surprise and am met with a chuckle from my husband.

I look up at him then and I become breathless. He’s always been beautiful. Too handsome for his own good. But this version of him, the carefree man with light and joy in his eyes, an easy smile on his softened face is the most precious. I imagine this would be the man I’d meet who wasn’t a Made Man. One I’d entangle myself with on vacation. A scandalous rendezvous that would ruin me for the rest of my life.

“How is it you’re mine?” I ask in wonder.

“I ask myself the same question everyday. And then I answer with I would find a way to make you mine anyways. Even if you tried to claw your way out of my grasp kicking and screaming.”

---