Page 14 of The Imp Act

“Sienna, hi. How are you?”

“Fine, thanks. What can I do for you?”

Okay, cool. She’s not interested in small talk. Me either. “I’m hoping you might be able to help me. As I’m sure you know, Enzo and I are hosting the Feast of Remembrance this year. Your mother sent over the list of recipes I’m supposed to prepare, but I’m a bit overwhelmed. I’ve never made imp cuisine before.”

“Ohhhh,” she says, sounding relieved. I wonder what she thought I was going to ask her. “It looks more complicated than it is. If you want, we can go shopping together and I can show you exactly which ingredients to get. Then, with your housekeeper’s help, you shouldn’t have any trouble putting it all together. I’d help with the cooking if I could, but I’m swamped with the kids’ holiday stuff. Not to worry, though. The complexity comes from the ingredients, not the preparation.”

Relief surges through me. She’s making the whole thing feel a lot more manageable. “Shopping would be wonderful, thanks. I’m really concerned about not having the right supplies on hand.”

“No worries, I’ve totally got you. Does next Tuesday work for you?”

Hallelujah. “Tuesday is perfect. Thanks so much.”

ENZO

Noelle is still fretting about the holiday, and I don’t know how to put her at ease. My sister took her shopping, and with Mrs. Grimsby’s help, the food is all made. It looks great and I told her so, but she just frowned like she didn’t believe me.

She’s been zooming around the penthouse, cleaning and scrubbing and tidying everything within an inch of its life, even though it was all already clean. Our housekeeper keeps things as neat as the proverbial pin.

Now Noelle is in our bathroom, staring at her makeup and hair tools, muttering under her breath. She thinks she has to be perfect for my family, and no matter how I reassure her, she won’t listen.

She doesn’t get it. Half my family won’t care at all, and as for the others? There is no pleasing them. They are nitpickers who will find fault with anything and everything. Of course, Mother is the ringleader, but she’s recruited some of my aunts to her cause. My sisters and their families, along with my various cousins, will all be cool.

But none of that is the point. I didn’t want a wife that my family would approve of. I wanted someone theywouldn’t,someone independent and interesting and imaginative. Noelle is all those things and more.

I step behind Noelle, inhaling her delicious gingersnap scent. I put my arms on her shoulders and give them a squeeze, trying to push out some of the tension. For a moment, she leans into it, closing her eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m being crazy.”

I snort. “It’s fine. Unnecessary, but fine.”

“I can’t seem to help myself. I want everything to go well.”

“My darling wife, I keep telling you. Everythingwillgo well. It’s not necessary to worry this much, especially about my family.”

“I just…I want to impress them.”

I can’t imagine why. I stopped trying to do that by the time I was twenty.

I spin her around and stare into her hypnotic eyes. I still haven’t settled on what color they are. Hazel doesn’t do them justice. They’re more like tourmalines. “Noelle. You do not have to impress my family.Youare part of this family and you don’t owe them anything more than what you’re already giving. If they can’t be pleased by it, that’s on them, okay? Just relax, be yourself, and try to have a good time. Show them the fascinating and funny woman I married.”

For a split second, I’m tempted to tack on an ‘I love you,’ to help put her at ease. But I fear it would only send her further into a tailspin, so I keep my mouth shut. Instead, I turn her back around and continue massaging her neck and shoulders.

She makes a sexy little sound that goes straight to my dick, and I take a step back so I’m not tempted to ravage her right there on the bathroom counter. “Okay, I’ll get out of your way so you can get ready. Just remember. We’re already married.There’s nothing they can do to you. So if they don’t appreciate your efforts, fuck ‘em.”

She lets out one of her big, guffaw laughs and picks up a hairbrush.

When our guests arrive an hour later, she’s perfect, but not herself. She’s understated, as if she wants to disappear. Nothing like the sparkling star I met at Club Cobra four months ago. Subtle makeup, hair in a low ponytail, and in a sweater and slacks combo that’s nothing like her usual style.

We all pile into the living room, and she sits primly beside me, her hands folded in her lap. My uncle Silvio, a harmless old man, asks the question that we’ve both been dreading, but have miraculously avoided...until now.

“So, Enzo, tell me how you and your lovely wife met!” he bellows, genuine warmth in his tone. He really wants to know. So far, we’ve evaded this question, giving vague answers when necessary. Not even my mother has bothered to get the full story—she was too overwhelmed with taking over our wedding to bother with our backstory.

Neither one of us wants to say that we met at a club, had a one-night-stand, and then got married a month later. That sounds ridiculous, and would raise way too many suspicions. Mother already has her doubts about this union, though there’s nothing she can do. She can’t prove my love for Noelle isn’t the real thing, because it is. Sure, I’ll get an earful ofI told you sos after the divorce, but I’d like to kick that can as far as possible.

“I used to work in an art gallery,” Noelle pipes up out of nowhere. “One day when I was working, Enzo came in to look at the pieces. I could tell right away he had a good eye for art.”

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering where this is coming from. We definitely should have prepared better for this question, but it seems like Noelle had this story locked and loaded. She just didn’t mention it to me.

---