Page 86 of The Sound in Silence

Erico helps me stand, my legs wobbling when I follow him back to the kitchen. He takes both our dishes, rinses them, and puts them in the dishwasher before pulling me outside to the pool.

There, I collect my phone, noticing a text message from Della she sent hours ago, and my abandoned swimsuit. He snatches that, fingering the strings.

“The moment you left the pool, I was a damn goner. You knew it in your every step, didn’t you?”

I grin.

With the setting sun casting a beautiful orange glow over the property, I take his hand and pull him to the edge, leaning on the glass fence to gaze at the ocean.

My favourite sight,I sign to him, and he seems to catch every word, nodding the entire time.

“It is beautiful,” he agrees. “I’m thankful so many generations ago when my family claimed this as Rossi property, they chose this spot for the mansion. The house they had built was so boring. Too many walls. Reminds me of the Corsetti place. I had this redone recently,” he signals behind us, “to replace the walls with windows. Lets the light in, and the view of the ocean is always around me.”

My stomach knots with how he unknowingly built a house his future wife would adore.

“But I have to disagree on your statement of this being a favourite sight,” he continues. “Once, maybe. But now I’m torn between you in your bikinis, you playing your piano, and you coming on my face, my cock. Just the sight of your orgasm will stay with me forever.”

Forever. Such a long time. It’s everything I’ve wanted from this marriage. Hell, this ismorethan I believed I’d get.

Maybe you are good enough.For once, the dark thoughts are positive.

Testing the strength of those thoughts, I inch closer. Without hesitation, Erico wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into him. We look like a movie moment, together, staring at nature as the setting sun glows in our eyes. It’d be bothersome if I didn’t love it so much.

There’s so much I don’t know about my husband. So much I only know minimal details of. Such as those races he attends. I can’t picture the mafia boss beside me doing something as reckless as racing cars.

Crash!

Metal scraping against metal.

Tires squealing.

I shake it off, returning to the present. That wouldn’t happen with Erico in the driver’s seat. He seems like someone who’s confident enough. But I also imagine him controlling his car, his glee of a race win, the adrenaline of the rush, the speed in which he flies.

Question,I sign after a moment.

Erico’s hold on me tightens as he brings his arm closer to his other to reply,Yes?

When’s your next race?I peek up at him, waiting for his response.

“Sorry,sirena,I missed all of that. Don’t recognize those words. I think you started withwhen?”

With my phone, I type the question again.

“Tomorrow night.”

I want to come.

I angle the phone so he can see and I know the second he reads it, when he jerks away, shaking his head. “No.”

I cross my arms and mouth,Why?

“Why?” he repeats, tone incredulous like I’ve asked the most ridiculous thing ever. “You’re asking mewhyyou, after experiencing a horrible vehicle accident, aren’t authorized to come with me to a damn race?”

Yes,I reply with my hands, even though I know he was being sarcastic in his question.

He shakes his head—more of a rough jerk. “You think I would risk you like that?”

You won’t hurt me. I’m sure you’re a good driver

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