Page 23 of Savage Beauty

Freddy clears his throat and tries not to cower. “You know you can’t kill a cop, Sasha. Thekomissiyawon’t stand for it. Especially over something so insignificant.” Freddy’s quivering lip steadies, curling into a sneer. “I mean, you’ve had so many women. What’s so special aboutthisone that you married it?”

A specific type of weak, pathetic man refers to a woman as ‘it.’ But Freddy De Silva referred to my wife as ‘it,’ and that’s something else entirely.

I palm the Harpy knife, flicking my wrist to free the blade from its housing. Freddy’s reaction time is blunted by alcohol, and he doesn’t grasp what I’m doing until it’s too late. In an instant, the blade slashes through his shirtfront, carving a shallow but painful gash across his soft belly.

Freddy opens his mouth, but no sound escapes. I pocket the knife and glance over my shoulder to see Josie seated at a nearby table, staring at us in disbelief.

“You’re fucking crazy, you know that?” Freddy splutters, clutching his split shirt to his chest as the red patch spreads. “Yours isn’t the only mafia family I’m friendly with, you know. Do you think I’m that stupid?” He spits as he speaks. “You have no fucking idea what’s coming to you, Sasha. You’ve made some important enemies.”

Like this fat fuck can make problems for me. If he weren’t a cop, he’d already be dead.

I grip his collar to keep him on his feet. “I don’t wanna set eyes on you ever again,” I say. “You no longer work for us. Do we understand one another, Freddy?”

“That was uncalled for—Jesus!” He grips the bar. “I’mbleeding, man!”

“You’re lucky you’re only bleeding enough to whine about. I’d gut you if you were anyone else, and I’m still considering it. If you wanna keep your intestines off the floor, I suggest you fuck off, get that cut sutured, and stay far away from me and my wife.” Freddy’s eyes are unfocused, and I slap his cheek lightly to get him to look at me. “You got that?”

He nods and stumbles away, his arm over his stomach like he’s gonna throw up. No one pays him any mind. I order two Long Island Iced Teas and join Josie at the table.

“I guess you saw that,” I say, setting a glass before her. “If you wanna play games with me,zolotse, you go right ahead. But remember—your jealousy is not the same asmyjealousy. I’ll make people bleed and worse without a moment’s hesitation. You want that on your conscience?”

Josie throws back half the drink and grimaces. “You’re out of your damn mind. That guy came to talk to me, and I didn’t feel like flaunting my off-the-peg Vegas wedding ring. Not when you humiliated me by letting that girl flirt with you on the tour.”

“You think some pasty little girl could turn my head?” I take her hand. “No fucking way. Look what trouble I’m in over you, and you had to make me cut up a cop as well?” I grin at her shocked expression. “Come on. You cozied up to Freddy to get back at me, didn’t you? You knew what could happen. So don’t play innocent.”

“Alright.” Josie shows me her open palms. “Truce? We still haven’t picked a venue for this stupid wedding sequel. Just book anywhere. I’m done.”

I ignore her anger. “If you could choose anywhere in the world,” I ask, “where would you want to get married?”

Josie glances at me irritably, but her anger slowly dissipates. “I don’t know,” she admits, her shoulders slumping. “I never really imagined it. It felt impossible for someone like me to fall in love.”

“Same.” The word is out before I can stop myself. Those four letters convey more than I intended. I need to regain control. “So what harm’s a sham marriage anyway?”

Josie locks eyes with me, and I sense a deep sorrow lurking beneath the surface.

“Forget it,” I say softly. “This can wait. Let’s go home. I have a surprise for you.”

16

Josie

Idon’t know what to say to Sasha on the drive back. He’s silent beside me, and the tension is suffocating.

Now he has me where he wants me, shackled to him and in his thrall. I’ve encountered men like him before, those who relish the power of making women desire them. His talk of being obsessed with me might just be a ploy to stroke my ego and make me feel special so I’ll believehe’sspecial. But even if itisa game, it doesn’t change how I feel.

I steal a glance to my left, studying Sasha’s profile. His dark hair is pulled back to reveal the shaved sides, his neck tattoo peeking above the collar of his black silk shirt. At a red light, he casually undoes his cuff buttons and rolls up his sleeves, his strong, inked fingers working deftly.

Those very hands were all over me last night. Those fingers touched and caressed my most intimate places.

I avert my eyes and return my gaze to his face. He has this habit of biting his lip, toying with the ring piercing through it. It makes me wonder if he’s also lost in thoughts of last night.

Sasha parks the car outside his home and opens the door for me, reaching out to take my hand.

“I am trying, you know,” he says.

I take his hand, climbing out of the car. “I know. Very trying indeed.”

He smiles. “Come on,zolotse. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

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