Page 37 of The Villa

Noel is watching her, too, smirking lazily, but she can sense the tension in him, and when she gets closer, she sees that he’s actually trembling.

It melts something within her, and she leans forward, the threadbare carpet under her bare feet, the candles burning all around them.

In the mirror just over the fireplace, Mari sees the three of them, watches as Pierce comes to stand behind her, kissing the place where neck meets shoulder, his hands skating down her bare arms.

She doesn’t look like herself, or maybe it’s that she finally looks like herself, her eyes half-lidded, her lips parted, cheeks flushed.

Noel moves to stand in front of her, his hand once again going to Pierce’s hair over her shoulder, but he’s looking at her, and she wonders what he’s seeing.

“In for a penny, in for a pound, Mistress Mary,” he murmurs, and Mari rises up on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to his.

His kiss is different from Pierce’s, the only one she has to compare it to. There hadn’t been anyone before him, no quick snogs behind the school, no fumbles at school dances. She had always thought it was because, somehow, she knew she was waiting for Pierce.

But she likes this, likes the firmness of Noel’s mouth, the forthrightness of it all, his hand on her neck, his tongue against hers, and as she leans closer, Lara’s face is there in her mind for a moment.

We’re even now,she thinks, but just as quickly, she’s shoving that thought away because she doesn’t want Lara here, a part of this moment.

This isn’t about evening the score. This is about what Mari wants, and right now, she wants this.

This, finally, is a version of Pierce’s ideal world that might get to include her as well.

Thunder rattles the house, the storm growing even stronger, and Mari gives in.

SHE WAKES TOanother slamming door, but this one is close.

Too close.

It’s past noon, she knows immediately, and the rain has stopped. The light that pours through the windows is bright,illuminating everything that had been shadowy and dim the night before.

Mari is on the floor by the fireplace, a chenille blanket covering her from the waist down, her head pillowed on Pierce’s chest. He’s sleeping like he always does, like a little kid, his arms thrown over his head, his face peaceful.

Noel is a warm weight at her back. His arm lays heavily across her, palm resting on Pierce’s bare stomach, and Mari takes a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling.

She waits for regret to come, but there isn’t any. It’s done, after all, there’s no taking it back.

And, she thinks, with a smile that threatens to turn into a laugh, what’s the point of going to a villa in Italy with a notorious rock star if you don’t let yourself go a little wild?

But that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences, and as she gingerly disentangles herself and finds her discarded dress, she knows she needs to deal with them as soon as possible.

A part of her had hoped the person at the door might be Elena. The girl might be a little scandalized, but it would give her a story for her family and the rest of the town for donkey’s years, so the damage there would be fairly minimal.

Johnnie might be hurt, and she regretted that, but he also had no claim on her, so that was easily handled.

But, of course, it’s not Elena or Johnnie.

She finds Lara sitting on the end of the diving board, her knees drawn up to her chest, her shoulders hitching, and Mari steels herself as she approaches.

“Lara,” she starts, but Lara whirls on her before she can say anything else.

“Why him?” her stepsister demands, and Mari, who was ready to be conciliatory about the whole thing, feels anger flare in her chest.

“Why him?” she repeats, and Lara has the gall to nod, her head bobbing.

“You know how I feel about Noel. You know, and you did… whatever that was anyway.”

“I’m fairly sure you knew how I felt about Pierce when you fucked him,” Mari fires back, her arms tight across her chest. “So please do not pull this wounded act now, Lara. Besides, last night was just…”

Images unspool in her mind, and she tries very hard to keep any of what she’s thinking off her face.

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