Page 112 of Wounded King
I hold out my hand with the giant diamond ring on it.
"Shut up," Pippa screams, taking my hand and nearly dislodging it from my wrist. "Wow! That's a piece of beauty."
"I know, right?" I beam.
"Mrs. Orsi?" she whistles softly. "You go, girl." And then, "Are you happy?"
I nod, "Over the moon," I admit, and it's the truth. Despite all the drama in our lives right now, Iamhappy. The feelings I have for Marcello are already so much deeper than they ever were with Scott.
"I'm so happy for you. You deserve it." Pippa hugs me tightly. Then she looks demonstratively around, "Show me the place," she demands.
"Oh my God, you brought your cat?" Pippa exclaims when we enter the master bedroom last. This was actually my first time seeing the entire penthouse myself, and I'm not sure who is more impressed, her or me.
"Felix? Of course," I defend my cat.
Felix rises from the bed, stretches, and lazily jumps down to purr around Pippa's legs. "Get it off me," she complains.
For whatever reason, Felix loves Pippa. He even leaves my side to snuggle up with her whenever she and I have a sleepover. That she would rather kill than pet him is more of a challenge to him than a deterrent.
"Shoo," she says, moving her foot gently to make Felix leave. Instead, he claws at her legs.
"He wants you to pick him up," I explain, as if that wasn't clear already.
"Will he leave me alone if I do?" Pippa pouts.
"Probably not," I laugh and watch as she gently picks Felix up. I pretend not to see the warm smile she has for him, or the kiss she gives his furry head.
"I suppose you're okay for a cat," she admits and puts him back on the bed.
"Pet him, I need some clothes," I tell her, moving toward the bathroom, which is separated from the bedroom by a short hallway that splits left and right into two closets.
"Hell no," Pippa follows me into my closet, which is the size of my rental house, and glaringly empty, save for the few bags Marcello gave me yesterday. "Wow!"
Yeah, I totally agree with that statement. I watch her as she flings herself onto a small two-seater sofa standing against one wall.
"Why?" she asks, pointing at it.
I shrug, "So that I can talk to my best friend while getting dressed?" I retort.
Her guess on this is as good as mine. I would have never imagined a closet like this. With all its fancy rods, drawers, and shelves. Next to Pippa is a three-panel mirror, which causes her to instantly jump up and strike a pose. "Nice!"
The only thing hanging in the closet right now is the periwinkle dress I wore yesterday. Inside a bag, I find two more outfits. Black slacks and a red blouse, as well as a mauve colored dress. I pick the dress because it will be easier to put on and take off while shopping. "I hope you have an idea of what I'm shopping for," I tell Pippa, "because I don't."
"Do I ever." She grins.
"I'm not even going to ask how," I say, putting on underwear and then the dress.
Her sigh reaches me even while I pull the dress over my head.
"Do you ever pay attention when we watch those movies?" She complains.
"You mean other than the blood and gore you subject me to?" I counter.
"Yeah, besides that," the dress is over my head now, and she helps me zip up the back. "Like when they go to a party, or dinner? Or how they're dressed?"
"When you saythey, are you talking about the hunks or the girls?" I inquire.
"Both," she slaps my ass.
