Page 39 of His Brother's Wife
Selima gagged and dashed into the small bathroom of her suite. Ama, nauseated too, followed her, looking around the small room. No windows. Ama was beginning to feel claustrophobic. “We’re underground, aren’t we?”
Selima nodded. “Yes.” She glanced up at the camera and mic above them, then grabbed Ama’s hand, leaning into hug her to hide what she was doing. She traced a word onto Ama’s palm, just like they had when they were young and keeping secrets from their parents.
Fresno.
Ama was shocked. God, they were so close to home … She opened her mouth to ask a question, but Selima shook her head.Right. They were being watched.
For the rest of the hour, they lay together on Selima’s bed and talked about neutral things …food and their uncle’s house in Hyderabad where they had spent many happy summers growing up. Ama didn’t talk about Italy, or Enda, or their life there. She picked up from Selima to keep all their discussion’s neutral and inoffensive. Maybe if Ama ‘behaved,' they would be allowed to stay together more often. Maybe even permanently. If they could spend the night together, when the lights were out they could communicate via their childish language and figure a way out.
Later, the guards took her back to a different suite, not too far from Selima’s, which was again like a hotel room. On the bed was a box containing a note, some expensive-looking lingerie, and a beautiful dark red evening dress. Ama read the note.
Bathe and change into these items. Tonight, we will dine in your new suite, and then you will show me how grateful you are. If you please me, we will talk about your living arrangements and those of your sister.
Ama wanted to cry. She closed her eyes and sat on the bed. Was this actually happening? Forced to have sex with a man and pretend it was all she wanted in exchange for the lives of those she loved. Really, how did Jackson expect all this to turn out? It was then she realized—or rather, acknowledged—what she already knew. She, Ama, wasn’tmeantto get out of this alive. Jackson would make her subservient to him until he grew tired of her, and then he would kill her and move on to his next obsession.
In that case,she thought fiercely,I will make sure Selima gets home, and I will do anything to make that happen. And if I’m destined to die …I will make damn sure Jackson comes with me.
She went into the bathroom of the suite and ran the water into the tub. A selection of toiletries were lined up. She had to admit that, when she stepped into the warm water, it was a relief to be clean again. On the countertop were some packages of new underwear and fresh dressings for her wound.
She lay back in the water and let her mind drift to a happy memory. Back in their villa in Italy, their own tub was a vast iron antique that took a half hour to fill, but was the most comfortable she’d ever been in. She and Enda would soak there, kissing and talking as the evening moved into night. Often their lovemaking would begin in the tub.
The night she remembered what happened a few months back. Enda had been late home from work and Ama had been composing a new suite for her students to study when she returned to work. She had forgotten the time, and it was only when she looked up that she had realized it was past eight o’clock. As she always switched her phone off when composing, she’d checked her messages and realized she had missed a call from Enda. She’d called him back.
“Ciao, Bella.”
She’d grinned. “Hello, gorgeous. I’m sorry I missed your call. I was writing.”
“I thought you might be. Listen, I just called to say I’d be late and I wondered if I should pick up a pizza for dinner?”
“As long as we can eat it in bed.”
Enda had laughed. “That’s what I was hoping. God, what a day.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good, but busy. Raff and I might have a track on some investors who are interested in the music schools.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Ha,” Enda had chuckled, “Fun will be the building of the schools. This is the boring, but worthwhile part. How’s the writing going?”
“Okay …I’m not overly happy yet, but it’s getting there. Where are you now?”
“Outside Lucio’s,” he’d said, mentioning their favorite pizza place.
“Good, so you’re on your way home.”
“I’ll be there in a few,cara mia.”
She’d met him at the front door, wearing only one of his white shirts. He’d grinned as he’d carried the pizza inside, stopping to kiss her. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
“You bet you are.”
The pizza had gotten cold, while they were kissing, they’d tumbled to the floor, Ama stripping his jacket and tie off and Enda’s hands pushing his short from her beautiful bod. He’d pinned her down on the cold, hard tile of the lobby and taken her there, Ama screaming his name as his cock plowed into her, her hips burned as he pressed them further apart.
Afterward, they’d eaten pizza in bed and then soaked in the bath. It hadn’t been long until Ama, who had been laying back against Enda’s chest, turned and straddled him in the water, stroking his cock and then impaling herself on it. She’d gazed at her lover, his dark curls wet and sticking to his face, his smile and his green eyes so full of love for her. God, he was glorious.
“I want to marry you, Enda Gallo. Someday. When I’m free from Jackson and when all of this is over. No big ceremony. Just you and me on a remote island, away from everybody else. It doesn’t even have to be legal—just enough that you know how much I love you and how much I will love you for as long as I live …”
