Page 73 of Reckless Woman
“I need a fucking drink,” declares Rick, stepping out onto the balcony with his nervy little sidepiece and Eve in tow.
We stand to greet them—coasting by on manners, if not a single ounce of enthusiasm. Eve crushes Anna into a hug and tugs her toward the other end of the table as the dark shadow of Dante appears next to me.
“You were right to get Roman to look into the bartender,” he murmurs, handing me another bourbon. “I don’t like the look of her.”
“You don’t like the look of anyone, Dante,” I scoff. “Paranoia will mess you up better than my left-hook.”
“Bullshit. You feel it as well. Look at her. She’s too on edge. She can’t even choose what fucking wine to drink.”
He’s right. Rick’s waving two bottles at her, and she’s dithering like it’s a choice between a hard fuck with a ten-inch cock or a nine.
“Red or white?” Dante snaps loudly, losing his cool.
“W-white,” she stutters up at him, looking terrified.
It’s Anna who swoops to the rescue.
Shooting Dante a withering look, she steps in front of him and smiles down at the woman. “Hi and welcome to paradise,” she declares, adding an extra layer of sarcasm for my benefit.“I hear you’re from New York and you’re fabulously sexy and smart. I’m Anna. Come and sit at the other end of the table with us. The men will talk business, and I’ve no desire to ruin such a gorgeous evening by listening to the next chapter in the Death and Depravity Chronicles.”
Dante lifts his eyebrows at me, but I ignore him.
The evening proceeds with the same malevolent undercurrent.
Dinner hasn’t been served yet and I’m already half-cut. Dante’s not far behind. We’re matching each other, glass for glass, like a couple of high school kids at their first party. I would have killed any other man who put me and Anna in harm’s way like he has these past six weeks, but Eve’s right. I know the truth of why he did it. This is all about his first daughter, Isabella.The one he failed most of all.
I share the complexity of his grief. I know how it blinds your judgement and curbs the monster. He thought Viviana could be turned in time, but he was wrong.
Meanwhile, Rick’s on his second packet of smokes, and his eyes won’t leave the bartender. Benni Morozov is the name on our lips, until the sound of broken glass captures everyone’s attention. Rick’s girl has managed to spill an entire glass of red over her white dress. There’s a pause in conversation as Eve, ever the gracious host, leads her inside to change.
“What the hell was all that about?” Dante demands.
“You, being an intimidating dick, as usual,” says Anna loudly, making Rick laugh.
I turn to give him a death stare and he flicks a subtle middle finger at me. I’m considering whether or not to throw him off the balcony when I see her reaching for a glass of water.
“Can I get you a drink, baby?”
She flashes me a smile because she’s in not-so-polite company. It never reaches her eyes, though. “I’m going to bed. I’m not that hungry.”
“I’ll see you up.”
We don’t speak a word until we reach the bedroom, and then I’m crowding her up against the wall and slamming my palms down either side of her head.
“This ends now, Anna!”
“Your refusal to talk about anything, or our marriage?” She glares up at me, breathing so deep that the soft swell of her tits is hitting her chin on the upbeat.
“You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”
“And you’re a stonewalling, dream-breaking bastard!”
“Fuck!” I ram my fist into the wall, but she doesn’t move away.
“You stopped turning for me, Joseph,” she accuses shakily. “I begged you not to do that, but you did it anyway. This is all about you now. Not me.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t want to feel anything with you again if it means feeling this…raw.”