Page 97 of Bitter Poetry
“Well, shit happens,” I say bluntly.
“Why is he even marrying her?”
Brigida is alright. She turns a blind eye to what I do with Carmela, but I’m under no pretenses. She does that for Carmela’s sake, not mine.
“Ettore wants him to marry Helena,” I say.
“Heavens above! Could he not say no?”
“You’ve been part of this family for a long time and lived under Don Gallo for a year. So you know a suggestion from him is not a suggestion.”
“These are strange times we live in. I remember how different it felt when Mr. Accardi was the Don.”
“I wasn’t around back then. Mrs. Accardi didn’t like me much.”
Her smile is small, but I take it as a win and an indication she is still on my side… Team Carmela. “No,” she agrees. “She did not.”
“Brigida, I’m going to check on her.”
She nods stiffly and goes back to her measuring.
I head through the internal door into the home. Lucky for me, Ettore is a paranoid asshole, and he doesn’t have surveillance in any of his personal spaces or offices. I’ve done a fair bit of snooping over the last year. I’ve been in every room in this house, both the locked and the unlocked ones… everywhere except his office.
I’m whistling as I reach the top of the stairs, turn left, and head directly to their room.
She’s not in bed. The sounds of the shower running come from the en suite bathroom. The door is slightly ajar.
Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?
I slip my suit jacket off and toss it over the nearby chair. Then I roll up the sleeves on my dress shirt and head into the bathroom.
The shower masks the sound of my arrival. She doesn’t even notice. I’m disappointed the shower door is all fogged up. All I can see is the rough shape of her body.
My dick still kicks against my zipper, knowing she’s all wet and naked, no more than a pace away.
She’s on birth control and has been for a long time. An overheard conversation between her and Jessica tipped me off, confirmed after searching her room where I found her hiding place in a shoe box at the back of her dressing room. I still think Ettore is firing blanks, but I can’t say I blame her for not wanting to risk having a kid with him.
It crossed my mind a few times before I found the stash that I might have gotten her pregnant. And yeah, I can’t lie to myself. I like the thought of that, consequences be damned.
Only, times are changing, and the window on the game I’ve been playing is about to close. I knew it would come, and I wantit to, want her out from under Ettore so he can never hurt her again.
But I can’t take her from Ettore without losing her myself.
She begins lathering up her hair. I just want to strip down, step inside the stall, and fuck her raw. It annoys the hell out of me that I can’t. That she is not fucking mine. That I always have to be careful.
Her cell phone is lying face down on the vanity cabinet. Right beside it is the necklace Dante gave to her. My brows pull together. Does she always take it off to shower? Does it look like it has been placed there carefully or tossed in a rage?
It would be better for me if she hated Dante. I’m just temporary. She’s not mine, never has been and never will be. Dante’s finally getting his shit together. He’ll come in like the conquering hero, and she will fall into his arms and forget all about me.
That’s okay. I like being inside her, that’s all. This weird shit I’m feeling is the normal reaction anyone would have when they’re about to lose their favorite toy.
Only I’m not normal, and she’s definitely not a toy.
When I glance up to check on her, she’s rinsing out her hair and combing her conditioner through, so I take advantage of the moment, pick up her cell and swipe the locked screen. I put my face recognition in it a long time ago, so it pops right open.
Nothing much interesting. A message to her sister about school. One from her father asking if she can go over earlier. I move on to her internet search history.
She screams.
