Page 150 of Brutal Vows
REY
We lie tangled on the bed together like victims of a plane crash. Neither of us speaks. It’s only when I hear my cell phone ringing from inside my handbag on the other side of the room that I sit up.
Slowly, because I’m dizzy.
Quinn murmurs, “I’ll get it.”
He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and rises, tucking himself back into his briefs. Walking across the room, he zips up his trousers. He returns in a moment with my phone, two aspirin, and a glass of water.
The phone has stopped ringing, but the number on the screen is Gianni’s.
“Here. Take these.”
Quinn hands me the aspirin. I pop them into my mouth, accept the glass of water, and drink deeply, all while avoiding his eyes.
I feel as if my heart is exposed, beating outside my chest. Like every nerve has been stripped of its protective lining. I’ve never felt more naked in my life.
Quinn takes the empty glass from me and sets it on the nightstand. Then he kisses me on the forehead and pulls the fuzzy folded blanket off the end of the bed. He wraps it around my body, nuzzling my neck and sitting beside me to pull me into the warm, safe circle of his arms.
I close my eyes and let him hold me while I sniff his neck and wonder how to politely excuse myself so I can go to the bathroom.
He saves me from embarrassment by picking me up and taking me there himself.
He sets me in front of the counter, kisses my forehead again, then murmurs, “I’ll give you a minute. Don’t lock the door.”
As if I could operate something as complex as a door handle lock right now. I couldn’t even tell you what year it is.
He closes the door, leaving me alone with my stunned reflection in the mirror. Flushed and splotchy, my hair tangled and my eyes hazy, I almost don’t recognize myself.
I turn away from the stranger in the mirror. I use the toilet and wash my hands. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders again and dial Gianni.
He picks up on the first ring, sounding chipper and relaxed, as if he’s enjoying a lovely Caribbean vacation. “Reyna! How are you,sorellina?”
“Where have you been?”
I don’t know if it’s the flat, disaffected tone of my voice that makes him pause, or if he can tell that I’ve just been used in the most brutal, beautiful way, but he takes a moment before replying.
“I’m at the Four Seasons with Mamma.”
“That’s not what I asked. Listen carefully. Where have you been?”
Irritation creeps into his carefree holiday tone. “Since when do I answer to you?”
“Since I married an Irishman to save the family. I’ll only askone more time, then I’m sending that Irishman over to break your kneecaps. Where have you been?”
He snaps, “Taking care of business.”
“What business?”
“Mybusiness, that’s what. Just because you’re married now doesn’t mean I need to give you an itinerary.”
“Maybe not. But you will give me a copy of that marriage contract. Email it to me. Right now. I want to know the terms you negotiated.”
Indignant that I’m issuing commands, he starts to sputter something about being the head of the family, but I ignore that and speak over him.
“I met with Alessandro.”
Silence. I hear him breathing on the other end of the line, but other than that, he doesn’t say a word.
