Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88807 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Let’s take a shower. I have a surprise for you.”
We’ve spent more time than intended in the shower, taking turns washing each other. The thing that matters most is how different it all seems, how seamless. Near-death experience changes things. They can bring you closer and make someone view life and the people around them differently. Some people even act another way.
That’s how it appears with Siân. I guess after two incidents where her life was threatened, she’s decided to trust me. To give in to this thing between us and to stop fighting. Aside from the spat over the breakfast bagel, I noticed it back at the hotel. The entire time we were there, we kind of blended together, moving about like we did in Florida.
Every so often, I catch her staring at me, and when I go to kiss her, she playfully pushes me away, only to steal the kiss for herself. I can get used to this. Not the cutesy flowers and rainbow shit, but her being with me, happy and content. That’s how I know today is the perfect time to make it official.
Finally, we exit the shower and get dressed before finally being ready to leave the room.
“I like when we’re like this. I’ve missed it,” she admits, but I don’t respond.
All I can give her is a smile because the truth is, I don’t know if I can give her this level of me all the time. My life doesn’t work that way, but I’ve told her I will try, and I meant it. Roughness, aggression, that’s more my speed, but for Siân, I’ll do what I can. I’ll give her more of the gentler side if it means she smiles more.
“Come on,” I encourage and take her hand in mine.
“What’s this surprise you have?” she asks while stepping out into the hall, waiting for me to close the door behind us.
“Sii paziente, topolino.” Be patient, little mouse.
“You’re going to have to teach me Italian.”
“Okay.” I nod. “I can’t believe you don’t know it, though.”
Siân shrugs. “I did, and I do understand some things. But when we got to the States, Cynthia made sure all we spoke was English. We had to blend in.”
“She never should have let you forget your roots. You should be proud to be Italian. There is nothing else better in the world.”
“We didn’t have a choice, Christian. She did the best she could.”
I huff and decide to leave well enough alone. We head to the first floor, the barage of voices greeting us before we reach the bottom landing. The foyer is empty, so we walk toward the sounds. It’s Tony’s voice I recognize first, and then a stern female voice.
“Comportati bene, o sarò tentato di ricambiare il favore di quando mi hai sparato nella tua cucina.” Behave, or I'll be tempted to return the favor from when you shot me in your kitchen.
“Avresti dovuto schivarti,” she seethes. You should have ducked.
We turn the corner into the great room in time to stop Tony from stalking toward her. I fight the urge to laugh. He's pissed with me for not allowing him to harm her. She shot him and essentially has gotten away with it. If he had his way, she’d been skinned alive a long time ago.
“Relax,” I order.
Tony peers up at me at the same time as Cynthia turns in her seat. The moment she and Siân lay eyes on each other, they take off into each other’s arms. Cynthia pulls her into a motherly embrace by tucking her into the crock of her neck with a hand at the back of her head.
She plants one kiss after another on Siân’s face, hair, and forehead, then pulls her close again. They sway, and almost instinctively, they each begin to cry. Tony rolls his eyes, and I shoot him a look that tells him to cool it. She needs this. They both do.
When Cynthia backs away, she runs her palms down Siân’s arms, proceeding to check her over for any sign of arm. The bruises around her throat have healed, and any marks that were of my doing are covered by her clothing.
“Has he hurt you? Are you okay? I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you,” Cynthia rambles on.
Siân cups her cheeks. “Cyn. Cyn. I’m okay.” She gives her a reassuring smile. “How are you?” Siân says softly.
There’s a look in Cynthia’s eyes, one full of concern and reservation. She stares at Siân a moment, then darts her gaze to me and back. I can see questions rolling in her mind with the way her face moves from a scared parent to a disturbed one. She knows the difference and saw it the second we walked in the room. The glow coming from Siân is just as evident.
The last time I allowed them to see each other, the vibe was different. Siân was different. Then she was flustered, agitated, in dire need of escape, but now, not so much. Now, she’s smiling, and her body language is that of a woman who’s just been fucked. Not one in need of rescue.