I speak through my fury, my voice tight.
“Bother me? What’s his fucking name?”
She was promised as a child, was never free to share intimacy with another, and should have known better than to have kissed a man. She’ll pay for that, and so will he, the fucking thief.
“Whoa, wait.” Her palm hits the air as if to calm me down. Doesn’t work. “I’m a virgin, but it doesn’t mean I’ve never been touched by anyone.”
“I want a list, Elise.”
“What?” She blinks. “A list of…of what?”
“Men who touched you.” I’ll kill them, every last motherfucker.
“Orlando.” She places her hands on my shoulders and holds my gaze. “You can’t…you can’t hurt like the two people I kissed under the bleachers in high school. Are you crazy?”
I sure as hell am crazy, and she ought to know that. “Any fucking moron who touched you should’ve known better. You were a Regazza. Off-limits.”
“I was fourteen!”
“Doesn’t fucking matter.”
She shakes her head. Little droplets of water dot her bare breasts. “Uh uh. No. I’m not going to give you names. You can p-punish me or…whatever the hell it is you have in mind,” she stutters, and she looks away for some reason as she says this. “But I’m not going to let you fuck up someone that didn’t know any better.”
“You’re a fucking Regazza. He knew better.”
Her eyes flare. “Did I tell you it was a guy?”
Wait, now. Wait.
My cock’s hard again, that quick. “You mean it…wasn’t a guy?”
She shrugs. “I maybe was a little curious is all. And anyway, I thought guys were into that…girl on girl and everything.”
“Are you shittin’ me?”
She shakes her head and laughs, a genuine laugh that makes my heart swell for reasons I don’t understand. She gets up on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“I was a virgin when I came to you,” she says, holding my gaze. “You were the first man who ever made me come. You were the first human that made me come. I was undefiled.” She rolls her eyes. “If that’s what you want to call it. Is that good enough for you?”
“For now.” I spin her around to rinse her off and rinse myself off, too. And I am momentarily mollified.
She’s got stacks of clothes here waiting for her, since she’s packed so little and hasn’t had a chance to get her belongings yet. I don’t want her to get much. She’ll start anew as a Rossi.
I dress quickly. I’ve got so much work to do.
“So what am I supposed to do while you work?”
“Today, you’ll work with me.”
“Oh, God.” She’s slipping on a pair of shoes.
“What?”
“Orlando!” Her eyes are wide in surprise. I glance at the clock. I have to be at the restaurant in an hour. “I don’t…I don’t hurt people.”
I blink, trying to understand, and when I do, I snort with laughter. “So you think the only job I have is beating people up? God, I’d fucking hang myself.”
She winces but hides it as she looks in the mirror to wring out her hair. For a mafia princess, she’s a little more sensitive than I’d expect.
“Okay, then, so what else do you do?” I’m mesmerized by the way her small fingers work through her hair, how she combs her fingers through it as she applies some foamy white product. It smells of lemon.
I shake my head to clear my brain. “My family owns ten restaurants in the North End. I oversee them.”
“Oh, wow. Are you a chef?”
I continue dressing while I answer her questions. As my wife, she needs to know everything. “I can cook, yeah. Love to cook. Love to eat more. We have head chefs in every restaurant, though.”
“Okay, so you don’t just do mafia stuff, you do like actual work, too.”
That makes me laugh again. It’s like she’s been totally sheltered. It’s a little odd.
“Ah, that is mafia stuff. This isn’t a movie. How much did your father shelter you?”
“Oh you have no idea,” she says quickly. Too quickly. “I know nothing about the mafia.”
It’s an odd answer, but she doesn’t meet my eyes as she’s busy getting makeup out of a little silver bag.
“Nothing? You were raised by the Regazzas and you know nothing?”
She sighs and shakes her head. I’m mesmerized when she drags a little brush across her lips. They shine pink, then quickly brighten.
“Is that magic?”
She puckers her lips. “Magic?”
“Yeah, that stuff you put on your lips. It just… shifted color. How did it do that?”
Her eyes crinkle at me in the mirror. “It’s a pH-color changing one. Changes color to match your body type.” Her shoulders shake with laughter. “You know, I wouldn’t call you cute, but when your brow’s all puckered like that, you kind of are.”
I grunt at her as my phone rings. “Fuckin’ endorphins and shit.” She only laughs harder. I glance at the screen. Romeo.