Page 43 of Married With Malice

Anni’s silence feels different than usual. It’s possible that she’s just shellshocked after getting her world rocked to its core. A few times she glances over, almost surprised to find me walking beside her.

She waits while I open the door to our suite. Her shoes get dropped on the floor before she walks to the balcony, pausing in front of the glass doors.

I toss my suit jacket and tie on the sofa and shed my shirt as well before closing in behind her.

Her dress is still partially unzipped. My fingers fix that within seconds, sliding the zipper all the way down. From there it’s just a quick flick of my wrists to drop the dress to the floor. She lets out a shaky breath but doesn’t object when I turn her around.

I take her face in my hands and brush my lips over hers, tasting, teasing. Her hands tentatively touch my shoulders and she dissolves into the kiss. My cock spikes to life, ready for another round of newlywed excitement.

I’m dismayed when she pulls away suddenly. I sure hope the last half hour wasn’t too good to be true.

“Can I ask you something?” she says and her tone is almost timid.

She can ask me for the whole world. I’ll find a way to give it to her.

“Sure.”

She worries at her lip for a few seconds. “Was it really your father’s tux that I burned?”

Right now Annalisa is more tender and vulnerable than I’ve ever seen her. If I answer yes, she’s bound to feel bad. Whatever delicate truce we’re sharing might be fractured.

“No,” I tell her and fall to my knees, hooking her leg over my shoulder and getting to work.

It’s the last word I say for quite a while.

There are far better uses for my tongue.

8

ANNALISA

“The trick,” says Big Man Bowie, “is flipping the patties only once.”

He hunches in front of the gas stovetop to examine the meat sizzling in the large griddle pan and motions that I ought to join him.

“Is it done yet?” I ask after thirty seconds.

“Not even close,” replies Big Man Bowie in a near whisper, like he’s afraid to disturb the meat.

My sister’s husband takes food more seriously than he takes anything else. He’s been a hundred percent professional since he walked through the door, even donning a puffy food service hairnet to keep his wild blondish locks under control. He tried to hand me one too and when I declined, I could swear he disapproved.

I don’t need a hairnet because I’m not interested in serving the public. My only goal is to learn how to cook a few meals that won’t make anyone gag. Daisy was excited to volunteer her husband as my cooking teacher, which is why I’m now watching a brand new stove get christened with Big Man Bowie’s burgers.

Before tonight, the most complicated food I’ve learned how to cook is oatmeal. I can also boil an egg. My microwave skills are outstanding. Despite my mother’s best efforts to school her daughters in the kitchen, the only one who ever showed the slightest inclination to learn was Daisy. I never started a grease fire the way Sabrina did when she tried to make French toast, but I’m also without any patience for measuring ingredients or waiting for sauce to boil.

“Anni, you should come and stir the aioli sauce,” Daisy singsongs from her place at the kitchen island. She and Bowie arrived an hour ago with six grocery store bags and a determined wish to turn me into a great chef.

“Eat it, sucker!” Sabrina yells at her laptop and throws up her hands in victory. “Everyone hail the Combat Destiny queen.”

“Did you win your game?” Daisy says.

Sabrina closes the pink lid of her laptop and rolls on some lip gloss, smacking her lips together. “I always win.”

She tagged along for the cooking lesson with Daisy and Big Man Bowie. As the last daughter still living at the Barone estate, she’s feeling particularly under the microscope and hangs out elsewhere as much as possible.

When I returned from my honeymoon last week, I discovered that my father had arranged for most of my possessions to be moved here, to an oversized modern box of a house in Richie Amato’s neighborhood. The house was a wedding gift from Richie to his nephew and I’m just expected to play housewife in it.

“See how the meat is plumping up?” Big Man Bowie points with excitement.

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