Sonja was curled up on the small couch in the back room, sleeping soundly. Mario, Massimo’s older right hand man, looked over his shoulder to see if she was actually asleep, and back at Massimo. “What?” Massimo eyebrows twitched questionably. “What uh...” Mario began then paused to clear his throat. “... cosa farai quando lei scoprirà che nessuno la sta cercando?” Mario smiled. “Cosa intendi?” Massimo asked, appalled. Giovanni, his other right hand man, a bit younger, looked at the both of them, obviously as equally confused but interested. “Questa era solo una canaglia per riaverla, giusto?” Mario asked. “"Che cosa...” Massimo looked at the both of them. “... no. qualcuno sta davvero cercando di ucciderla...” He paused, rubbing his chin as he looked at the floor. “...Credo. E penso di sapere chi.” 77Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYtzayRWRuN
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Sonja began to stir, pushing the blanket off her, as she groaned irritably. "Parleremo di più. Dopo." Massimo said in a hushed tone as he stood and went to check on her as the right hand men continued to converse in Italian. He squatted down beside her. “Hey...” he said softly, trying not to frighten her. “...what’s wrong?” “Nothing.” She turned, facing away from him. “Still mad about your plants?” He sighed with a grin. No reply. “You’re not going to act like a brat the entire time.” He stated assertively to emphasize it wasn’t a question but indeed an order. “How much longer ‘til we land.” She asked dryly. “Another hour.” She nodded, continuing to face away from him. He looked over at Giovanni and Mario, who stared with “here we go” expressions.
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Sonja staggered off the plane, obviously jet lagged although the flight was only 2 hours. When she saw Bernardo and Alessio, his big bodyguards slash drivers, she ran up to them like a child and threw her arms around them. They rarely smiled or showed any emotions but she knew they liked her. “How are you today, Miss Marotta.” Bernardo, her favorite, spoke as Alessio went to open the door to the Maserati Levante. “Please, you know you can call me Sonja. How long have we known each other.” She smiled tiredly as she climbed in.
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(At Massimo’s House)
They pulled up to Massimo’s mediterranean-style mansion that sat near a lake and boardwalk. “This isn’t the one you had before is it?” Sonja asked looking around. “No...” he unbuckled his seatbelt. “...I sold it. That one’s about 30miles from here. Which is good considering not many people know where I am so they shouldn’t come looking for you here.” His expression serious. “You’re Massimo. They know where you are.” She replied with an expression just as serious as his. He grew on edge, turning his attention outside the window. "Assicurati che siamo a posto per entrare." He pat Alessio’s shoulder from the backseat, who in returned looked at Bernardo in the passenger. They climbed out and looked around discreetly as Giovanni and Mario exited the vehicle behind them. “What?” Massimo said when he caught Sonja staring at him. “Nothing, Massimo.” She said his name in a lustful whisper but it was obvious she was tired. Maybe worried. He finally exited the car and went over to her side. “Cmon.” He said softly, holding his hand out for her.
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“This is your room...” he walked into a room, neutral colored with a queen sized bed and Davenport. Nothing special. “...it’s not much since it’s last minute. I know how artsy you like to get so I’ll get the guys to pick you up some things to make it suitable for you.” Sonja’s eyebrows raised with a smile. “Really? I get my own room? You’re not having me sleep with you to better protect me?” She teased. He walked up to her, smirking in return as if to say something witty. “I’m the next room over. Don’t worry.” He flicked her chin and brushed past her. She rolled her eyes, turning to watch him walk in the room literally next door to hers; although still a good distance away due to it being a mansion and all.
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Her room was windowless. Everything she needed, bathroom wise, was there. A walk in closet and enough space to fit two full beds if she wanted to. She flopped down on the bed kicking her shoes off, and let realization sit in. “Shit.” She exhaled. How long am I going to be here? She suddenly felt tiredness and sadness wash over her all at once. It would be afternoon in a couple hours and she still hadn’t fully slept off the martinis and cosmopolitans she consumed at the club not even 12 hours ago. Without throwing the covers back, she fell over, letting her head fall onto the pillows.
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(2 weeks later)
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Sonja sighed with accomplishment as she filled in the last crossword puzzle, right before chucking it into the trash. She wondered mindlessly through the house, looking into each and every room. Most were empty, a painting here and there so it wouldn’t look completely bare. As she walked past the patio door, she heard what sounded like a truck engine rumbling. Over the stone wall she could see just the top of what looked like a Jeep, idling. It drove off before she made it outside, walking past Mario, who was taking his old man nap in the bayline chaise with a newspaper over his face. She went outside the gate and saw the flag up on the mailbox. Her eyes narrowed with suspicion but she went and opened it anyway. There were 4 envelopes, all in Italian. Intra-European Organisation of Tax Administration. Assicurazioni Generali. Eni. She paused on the last one. An envelope with a vintage-like stamp but no return address. “What the hell are you doing?!” She heard behind her. She turned, seeing Massimo exiting the Maserati, his scowl fixed vastly on her. He took the mail from her hand, grabbed her with his free hand and led her back through the gate. He walked in long strides, practically dragging her, kicking Mario’s chair as he walked past. “Okay.” She said pulling away from his grasp once they finally made it back inside the house and away from the sliding glass door. “What the hell were you doing outside? Outside of the gate?” He talked sternly. “All I did wa-...” “Nobody knows you’re even here so why are you checking the mail as if to expect something? So you’re technically just committing a federal crime.” She rolled her eyes, annoyed. “And you...” his eyes darting over her shoulder at Mario. “...you have one job. Uno. Cazzo. Lavoro!” He growled as he inched closer to weather-worn face man who was clearly old enough to be his dad. “Stop it!” Sonja shrieked. “For God’s sake, we’re not children! And Stop talking to him like that.” “Be quiet.” He ordered and turned his attention back to Mario. She rushed down the hall to her bedroom as Massimo Italian dialect grew more more distance. A few moments later he walked into her room; no sign of her.
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“What’re you doing?” He asked irritable, his elbow resting on the chesterfield. Sonja sat on his bed, obviously waiting for him to find her. “Waiting for you to calm down.” This only seem to add gasoline to the fire that was dying down. “How can I, when you’re asking to get a bullet in your head?” Her eyes widened from his deadpan stare and the ice in his voice. “I’m trying to protect you. I need you to let me do that. And by doing that, all you have to do is listen. Don’t. Go. Outside.” She didn’t utter a word. Only nodded. He sighed, walking up to her and brushing her curls from her forehead which made her narrow her eyes at him suspiciously. “What’s the matter with you lately?” He asked. “I’m bored.” She answered immediately as if she waited forever for him to ask. “And I need maintenance.” She arched a brow and her eyes darted down to insinuate her exact means.
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The doorbell rung.
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“Thank you for coming on short notice.” She heard Massimo from down the hall. “Sì, naturalmente. Is no problem at all.” She heard a woman’s voice and then footsteps coming down the hall and then a door opening. Being nosy and with the lack of events going on in the past 15 days, she found herself staring mindlessly at the novel in her hands, trying to strain her ears to hear what was going on. A bunch of Italian dialect and clattering could be heard in the far distance down the other side of the hall. After about 20 minutes, Massimo appeared at her doorway. “Come.” He said with a smile full of enthusiasm but still with an ordering tone. Sonja climbed off the bed and followed him. In one of the used-to-be bare rooms was now a whole set up of lotions, oils, scrubs, and a massage table. “Ciao!” Being the only Italian greeting she knew, Sonja blurted in excited. The middle aged brunette turned in surprised and greeted her back with a mutual excitement, placing the polishes in her hand on the empty computer desk. “Oh...” she walked over to Sonja, staring at her intensely. “...such beauty.” She said once in front of her and then looked over at Massimo. “Wife?” she gestured towards Sonja, who’s expression softened with amusement. “Yes.” He answered as if expected. Sonja head spun around to glare at him. “She’s not really into material things so it’s hard not buying something as pretty as she is to symbolize that. So in-home spa days are all I can do as of right now.” He smirked, avoiding all eye contact with Sonja as he scratched his beard. “And I hope he knows I’m highly appreciative of them.” Sonja added, trying not to chuckle. “Ah! Well, may you two be blessed with a long lasting marriage.” She took Sonja’s hand and placed the other on her back. “Shall we begin?” “This is Miss Carmen. She’s going to take care of you while I take care of some business. See you when you have finished.” He winked as he left, closing the door behind him.
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It was close to nightfall when Miss Carmen finally finished with Sonja. Massimo spent most of the afternoon driving around town and running errands, collecting things. Carmen was more than grateful than she could put into words with the hefty tip he added for her service.
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It was nearing dinner time when Massimo was nowhere to be found. He was digging around his closet when Sonja walked in, looking like she had just won the lottery or something. “Thank you for the surprise, husband.” She said sarcastically yet, still grateful. “You’re wel-...” his face softened into a gaze from the comical smile he had just a few seconds ago. Her skin was so pristine. Her eyelash extensions sharply curled but natural and neat at the same time. Her lips back to that fleshy pink color they always were, slightly fuller looking. More pouty than usual. Her nails, both hands and feet, squared and a shiny powdery white color. Her hair was up in sorta elegant style; pinned up curls with loose fallen strands to make it look more “casual” and “lazy” . “What’s the matter?” She asked still smiling at his agape expression, her fingers intertwined. “N-nothing.” He swallowed and went back to doing whatever he was in the closet. But then stopped again and looked over at her, puzzled. “Is that my shirt.” He pointed at the satin-y jet black shirt she had on, barely buttoned up enough to cover her glistening breasts. “Yes it is.” She replied matter-of-factly. “I need that back.” He arched a brow and stood authoritatively. “In due time.” She nodded causally, crossing one feet over the other, balancing herself in a prissy stance; her hands still holding each other. They stared as each other until Massimo finally decided to go back to his activity in his closet. “What’s the problem? You have like 80 of these shirts.” Massimo scoffed in response. “Wow...” Sonja said mesmerized, appearing beside him as he reached on the high shelf of the closet to grab a box. “... what have you been doing Massimo? Your arms are bigger than I recall. Have you learn to become ambidextrous all these months...thinking about me?” She teased with beguiling eyes. “Stop it.” He said trying to sound serious but still cracking a smile. Still feeling her fingertips on his bicep, he looked at her. Her gaze was soft now, eyeing his body rather than his face. He gripped the box in one hand and dropped his arms, turning to face her. She stared up at him as he moved closer, staying in place as her head tilted back. Her eyelids sheltering her brown eyes half way. He leaned down, her mouth more inviting than before. “What is it that you want from me?” His eyes darting back and forth trying to read hers. She hooked her finger into the front of his shirt, pulling him even closer. Practically kissing distance. “Bubble bath soap. “ she said, holding her sex appeal tight. “I’m running low.” She added before letting go and heading to her room. Massimo sighed, continuing to stare in the place she was standing moments ago. “Stronzo del cazza.” He mumbled under his breathe.
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(The following day)
“Sonja.” Mario stood at her open door. She turned her attention away from the book in her hand towards him. “Massimo needs you to the living you.” “Okay.” She stood and followed him out.
Massimo stood with his hands in his pockets, awaiting her. She smiled, her eyes eating him up in his black slacks and white button shirt, showing off a bit of chest hair. “Sit down.” He motioned his head towards the chair he was standing behind. On the table was a laptop. A website in Italian, with moderately attractive women. “What’s this ?” She sat as he pulled out the chair, Mario standing in the distance. “A website for women’s clothing. All types. For all seasons. Look thoroughly, find what you want, and add them to the cart. When you’re done, let me know.” Massimo spoke, oddly low and steady. “No need...” Sonja shook her head. “...just give me your shirts.” “Oh no...” he suddenly appeared in her view. “...you’re not cutting up my shirts again for your penny pincher projects.” Mario looked down, hiding his grin from Sonja, now that Massimo’s back was to him. “That’s a cute alliteration but it’s call DIY. Aka do it yourself.” She spoke slickly. “And I’m not going to cut them...” she protested, her hands up as if to say they’re clean. “...I’m just going to wear them.” She smiled up at him. “And nothing else?” Massimo asked, his voice back to being low but this time stern. “Yeah.” She nodded and Massimo shook his head in disapproval. “Yes...” she re-stated. “...what’s the purpose in buying me cute things if I’m going to be held in here like a child with a fake autoimmune disease by a parent with munchausen by proxy.” Mario couldn’t stifle his chuckle, Massimo glaring over his shoulder.
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“We’ll go places. You just have to lay low for now. When I have to fly places, business trips, you’ll be there. Now...” He leaned over, so he was now eye to eye. “...I won’t tell you again.” He pulled the laptop closer to her, still holding eye contact. “Talk to me like that again.” She whispered in more of an asking tone rather than threatening, her smile turning into an aroused one. He exhaled, his expression softening as he stood back up. He cleared his throat. “Mario...” he turned, walking away. “Yes Massimo.” “...stay alert. Those deliveries should be here around 3.” He glanced at his watch. “What’s being delivered?” Sonja asked curiously. Massimo turned half way, his expression saying “get back to work” and he continued on down the hall.
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It was a quarter to four and Giovanni and Mario were already walking through the corridor just before the doorbell rung. “Torricelli? Le Pete Bouquet.” A man at the announced. “Yes.” Mario nodded taking the pen and clipboard from him. Sonja leaned back in her chair, giving Giovanni; who happened to be looking at her already, a what are you up to? glare. He smiled nervously and turned to back to the door. “Grazie.” The man took the clipboard from Mario and they began to follow him outside. Sonja continue to sit there, staring outside through the open door until the kitchen counter obscured her vision of them. She went back to the laptop, nearly gasping, as she scroll up on a a tie-up halter dress. Rockabilly Pin-Up Girl style. Midi-length. It was mostly white with big green palm tree leaves. She could see herself in it already.
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She turned around just as Giovanni was rounding the corner to her room. She turned back towards the door, still open, seeing Mario disappearing around the bend of the cobblestone walkway. She was quickly distracted by the same dress but displayed in different patterns and colors.
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After adding a few more clothes to the cart, being sure to add pantsuits, something large appeared in her peripheral. She turned and saw Mario carrying a vase with what looked to be a tall cactus. He continued on, pretending she wasn’t staring in awe. When her head turned and her eyes continued to follow him as he turned down the hall, she hopped up from her seat and followed suit.
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Massimo stood just inside her bedroom door, arms folded his finger swaying, giving orders. “No...not there. Sì. Grazie.” “What’re you doing?” Sonja hid her excitement with a perplexed tone. Massimo spoke over his shoulder but kept his attention on the placement of the plants. “I know you don’t like it here and you’re upset about your plants back home. So I figured I could give you a little bit of home while you’re here.” He said it like it was nothing. She just about gagged, cringing at the fluttering feeling in her abdomen, her eyes squinted. He turned, his eyes immediately finding hers, making her clear her throat very noisily. “Thank you.” She sounded almost shy. “Mh.” He nodded, rubbing his chin hair, his arms still folded. “You finish your list?” He added. She stared, forgetting what he was talking about and then a split second later, it came to her. “Oh! Yes...” she chuckled, rather loudly. “ ... I’m done. Yes.” She nodded. “You okay?” He smirked with wrinkled eyebrows. “Yeah of course.” She smiled, looking over at the different plants, tucking a fallen curl behind her ear.
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When she turned her attention back to the now silence Massimo, she could see familiarity. Dominance. His body still relaxed as before, but his eyes lowered and pupils dilated accompanied by a full-on mischievous grin. Maybe it was the same smirk but with the now Piegati Ora eyes, made it look up to no good.
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She stiffened, her smile fading into a confused expression as he slowly ,cooly , and damn near gracefully approached her. His arms finally falling to their naturally intended position. “Good.” He whispered, then brushed past her. She stared ahead as she rocked side to side, the skin on her back sizzling. She looked at Giovanni who was grinning childishly at her as he placed the last plant he had, next to her bathroom door. A look that said “I saw ALL of that”.
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She inhaled, her signature smile coming back. “How about you wipe that smirk off your face before I rearrange it.” She said in a suggestive tone that didn’t match her smile. He only turned away, pretending to relocate another plant. Mario shook his head, chuckling to himself as usual.
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(1 month later)
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Massimo tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes scanning the papers below him, and the pen in his hand flipping side the side. “Sonja...” he stared at the bay window across from the table, Sonja to his left. “Yes?” “...must you make up noise everywhere you go?” She placed her hands on her hips. “Noise? It’s suppose to help you concentrate.” He finally turned his eyes to her, a look of tiredness plastered on his face. Without a word, she grabbed the metronome and stopped it from ticking. He went back to his reading. She looked around the room, grabbing books only to read the overview and placing them back on the shelf. After a few minutes she appeared next to him. “What ‘tis it?” Massimo sounding surprisingly pleasant. “You haven’t paid attention to me since you’ve been home.” He couldn’t help but chuckle, not even daring to look at her expression. “I see you babygirl.” He continued reading. “Yeah but do you actually SEE me.” She tilted her head, placing her hand on the table. “Oh mio Dio...” he dropped the pen, rubbing his eyes vigorously. “...I seen the dress you’ve been talking about for weeks. I see how you’ve slicked your hair back into a high ponytail with the 10 euro scrunchy to match the green in the dress. I see the new nail color. The eyelash that you bitched about for 3 days straight because some fell off. “ he stood up just enough to be leveled with her. “I. See. You.” He stared at her waiting for a smile, an eye roll, something. But there was nothing. She’s been in a mood and bratty for the past two weeks,irritable with everything. So this response, if you could call it that, was unexpected. Regardless, he had no patience for it.
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He scoffed. “Sonja...” he picked up the pen, taking his place back in the seat. “...sit the fuck down.” He motioned to the leather couch behind him. “Or what? You’re going to spank me?” He paused. “Don’t provoke me.” He said sternly and forbiddingly , staring at the window again. Sonja leaned over, her breath on his ear. “I’m provoking. Right. Now.” He leaned back, resting against the chair. “What’s the problem Sonja? What the hell do you want?” He stared at the birds, rearranging twigs in the tree outside the window. She stood up straight. “For you to take a break and come play in me.”
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Massimo’s head snapped around and up at her. She pushed the pen and papers further up the table, balling up the sides of her dress until the hem was in her palms. Massimo maneuvered in his seat as if to protest, but the unbearable ache of his throbbing member had him at lost for words. She leaned back onto the sturdy Amish Jefferson table, giving him full all-access visual of her bare Nether Regions. She was ready. Exceedingly ready. “Don’t say anything...” she said softly, dismissing anything he may have thought of uttering. “...just enter me.” She held her dress against her belly button, her eyes pleading him as he stared back at her like he was truly in awe. This woman, this damn beautiful and downright peng woman, wanted him. Craved him.
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He looked down, her now cherry colored toes rubbing the front of his zipper. He inhaled, unable to resist the lust in her eyes as she rested back on her elbows; waiting. He stood, snatched the belt from its loops, unzipping his pants as his eyes stayed on hers. He gripped the front of her thighs, sliding her forward, and pushing inside her. Their moans synced, her fingers gripping the sides of the table. He inhaled sharply through his teeth, allowing his manhood to naturally sink into her. He pushed her knees forward, stroking slow and steady as if she had Fragile. Handle with Care written on her forehead. “What hell are you doing...” he looked down, Sonja’s eyes scowled him. “...don’t make love to me Massimo. Fuckin’ destroy me.” His skin immediately flared up, his hands moving from the crux of her knees to her throat. Her moans grew more excited but low-pitch as he collided her body vigorously, keeping most of his movement strictly in his thrusting hips. “Oh my God...right there.” She said with a retrained whimper. He watched her face, balling up as if to cry, her nails wrapping around his wrists. Just as he was about to loosen his grip he heard her say “Harder”. His fingers embedded on her jugular veins, working as an activation button to her vaginal walls; which tightened around him more. He started panting, his eyes getting heavy, and his lower abdomen feeling tingling. He leaned forward, resting his forearms across her breasts as his pumping became choppy in rhythm. “Come...come...” she gasped in between her pleading words. “Fuck.” He said tiredly, pulling out completely but keeping one hand around her throat.
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He pulled her to her feet, turned her around and forced her upper body down by the nape of her neck. She smiled and flinched with each slap he landed in an upward motion with his open palm across her bottom. When she began to twist awkwardly, he knew she was reaching her limit and slid back inside. This time he showed no mercy, holding the hem of her dress mid-back as the other hand stayed on her neck. His thrusts were so powerful that her feet began to lift off the floor; pushing her further up to the point her toes were barely grazing the polished Santos mahogany wooden floors. “This what you wanted, right?” He growled through gritted teeth, his voice husky, as he walked her legs began to squirm as if she couldn’t take it anymore. “Yes!” Her voice roared, sounding almost agonizing. He pulled out once again, his hand wrapping around the front of her neck and pulling her off the table and turning her to face him. She giggled exuberantly when he wrapped his forearm around her thighs and threw her over his shoulder.
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Once positioned on the Wentz leather couch; Massimo sitting and Sonja facing him, he ordered her: “Get on your feet”. She wasted no time in following his demand.
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He gripped her ankles as she crashed down on him, sending his mind back to the night of the club. How unsurprised she was when he showed up at her door with tiramisu as if she expected him to be there. And how profound the sex was less than 10mins of him being in her apartment. The month-old memories flooded his cerebrum, making the current moment heighten its senses of erotica.
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His fingertips pierced her ankles as her squats intensified with her moans. He sunk deeper and deeper into the cushion, sliding forward as his ankles play footsies with each other. Feeling the grip and the immense amount of wetness she was producing on his slacks, he was struggling to hold back his crowning point. “Shit.” He said in a somewhat whimper, followed by another sharp inhale. He had trouble grabbing her hips, as she was moving too fast; or maybe his hand-eye coordination was clocking out. He watched her face the entire time, her closed eyes making it appear from his POV that she was pleasuring herself in bed on a late night whilst everyone was asleep.
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He started panting as he felt her nails fisting into his hair, and her squats becoming more steady and controlled but harder on impact. This gave him the chance to finally find her waist. When she came down one arm wrapped around her waist and the other arm in the middle of her spine, his hand gripping her shoulder. Embracing her, her breasts smothering him as he “settled down”. She didn’t say anything. Just waited, her hand caressing the back of his head.
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All seemed quiet and serene for a moment. The songbirds chirping outside. The hushed ticking of the clock on the wall. Their quick and short pants as they caught their breath.
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Sonja felt herself folding back, Massimo pulling her swinger’s (or genie. Whatever you wanna call it) ponytail, making the rest of her torso go back until only her stomach was visible to him. She strained, scratching his forearms trying to get a grip. Literally.
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He smiled, grabbing the front of her dress and pushing the cups aside to reveal her breasts. He kept her folded as he thrusted upward, his teeth tracing her walnut-colored halos. She started begging again as he thrashed away, a smile of internal bliss forming on his face. She dug her nails deeper into his flexed arms, speaking in her strained and inaudible tone but it was obvious she was talking him through his finish. He groaned vehemently, giving a few erratic pumps before stalling. Her gasp shaky, as she felt her lower abdomen filling up.
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He finally released her hair, allowing her to sit back up right. Before she knew it, she was picked up by the hips and tossed to one side of the couch. He stood, casually tucking his shirt and zipping his pants. He then turned around, looking down at her, her face still beautiful as ever even with the smudged bottom eyeliner. “Allow me to finish my work now, yes?” His body language saying “okay?” . “Yes.” She smiled, looking completely satisfied.
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He grabbed the papers and positioned them back in front of the chair as he sat down with an enervated sigh. Within seconds, the familiar flower pattern appeared beside him like before. “What’tis it now?” He rested his forehead on the heel of his hand. “What’re we having for dinner?” He sighed. “Whatever you want, babygirl.” “Of course.” She replied in a just-making-sure-you-knew tone, before trotting off in her noisy lace up kitten heels. He watched her exit the study, imagining a glimmering trail (of him) running down her inner thighs. God, I love her , he thought as he cracked a exhausted smile to himself.
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(The Following Week)
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Massimo was on a business trip in Catania, Italy. It was day three of his trip and the time was nearing for his arrival back home. Sonja finally decided to roll out of bed around a quarter past noon. Massimo’s bed of course, which she decided to take up residence anytime he was gone. As well as his button up shirts. She walked out yawning and scratching her cheek like a cliché cartoon character, stopping in front of the hanging mirror in the hall. Her curls was a tornado of a mess but her lashes were still perfect so she cared little to nothing about the rest. She walked into the kitchen, standing drowsily in front of the open refrigerator before grabbing the Granini orange juice and taking a huge gulp.
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She nearly jumped out of her skin when she turned around. There was a woman in a white pantsuit sitting on the couch, shooting daggers at her. Very sharp daggers. “Who the hell are you?” The woman spoke in an authoritative and almost-undetected accent that was actually kind of sexy. If Sonja wasn’t in defensive mode she’d probably be jealous. “You took the words right out of my mouth.” She said, blocking her daggers and sending them right back.
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“Now...” she placed her palms on the island gently and leaned on it. “...who the fuck are you?”
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The woman uncrossed her leg but kept her arms resting across the back of the couch. Odd.
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She cleared her throat. “I’m his wife.” She smiled in a way that showed she was ready to do some harm. Cynical, if you will.
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(End of Chaptire Deux)
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