Page 41 of Vicious Impulses (The Capo and Ballerina)

“That’s thousands of miles away.”

“It would take days beginning to end. But you know what that means, don’t you?” Ms. Poitier smirks at me, folding her arms. “It’s the perfect excuse for you to take your wife on a honeymoon.”

“No.”

“C, you can’t keep her locked up in this house forever—”

“I said no.”

“Then you’ll get more of the same. You’ll only drive her further and further away.”

I clench shut my eyes and breathe so hard, my nostrils flare. It’s true that I’m stubborn to a fault. I’m stuck in my ways, and I have a narrow view of women and relationships. My patience wears thin easily, and I prefer doing things for my benefit than for the benefit of others. Everything Ms. Poitier describes is the opposite of me.

It almost calls into question if I’ve made a mistake marrying Nevaeh. If perhaps I’ve gotten lost in a dream thinking it’d become real life.

I could carry on the way I have—prioritizing my wants and desires and disregarding Nevaeh.

But it seems Ms. Poitier is right when she says it’ll only push her away. It’ll damage any chance at ever getting along.

I husk out another rough breath, then concede with a nod. “Fine, maybe a trip… maybe she can come with me.”

“And?”

“And,” I continue reluctantly, “I’ll spend some time with her. Try to… maybe talk to her.”

“Repeat after me: no more severed heads.”

“Ms. P, you’re pushing it.”

My growl makes the older woman laugh. She knows to push my buttons right up to the point of explosion before backing down.

“I’ll let the doctors know you’re coming. Should I tell Nevaeh to pack for the trip?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Go ahead. Since you seem to think this is so necessary.”

A bright beam breaks out across Ms. Poitier’s face. She turns to go, then stops for one last word. “Oh, and C? If you ever need tips—you know, on how topleasurea woman—I’d be more than happy to give a few. I’ve been around the block a time or two.”

FOURTEEN

Nevaeh

I’mwary when Ms. Poitier tells me I’ll be accompanying Caelian on a week-long trip to Zurich. Not only have I never been out of the country, I’ve never been out of the state. An issue I raise several times only to be told not to worry about it.

“But I don’t even have a passport.”

Ms. Poitier waves a dismissive hand. “Nevaeh honey, don’t you worry about it. It’s all been taken care of.”

By ‘taken care of’, I discover she means such trivialities like passports and other official documentation don’t matter when you’re ridiculously rich and a violent mafiacapo.

Caelian guides me onboard the private jet we’ll be flying on and tells me to stop asking so many questions. I’m a bundle of nerves climbing the ladder of stairs.

An alcoholic beverage and some Xanax later, I’m waking as we’re soaring among the clouds. I’ve been moved from the seating in the cabin to a private bedroom…on the plane.

I blink hazily at the bed I’m lying in and then at the porthole windows through which large clusters of clouds float by.

Caelian speaks and makes me jump. “There she is.Mia bella ballerina… or shall I sayla mia bella addormentata?”

He’s seated at a desk on the other side of the room.

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