Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
I don’t like that. I don’t like hearing it. But maybe it’s more true than I’m willing to accept.
“Thank you, Lucas. I appreciate that.”
I disconnect the call and a few minutes later, I’m driving on my own to Rafa’s house because I have to. I have to see for myself. Hear for myself. I have to know.
27
Stefan
My head isn’t any clearer by the time I park the car and walk up to Rafa’s front door. I’m about to ring the doorbell when I hear Clara’s flirty laughter coming from the back of the house. I walk around, opening the gate quietly as I do.
But it’s not quiet enough. Rafa’s no fool.
Before I’m two steps in, he’s come around the corner, pistol in hand, his face hard.
I’m not surprised by his sudden, armed appearance. It’s one of the reasons he’s my right-hand man.
“Rafa,” I say, seeing him with different eyes.
He uncocks the gun and tucks it into the back of his jeans. “Stefan,” he starts, and I note that he is surprised. Anxious even. “What are you doing here?”
I walk toward him. I can feel how hard my expression is and I need to concentrate to keep it level.
“I wanted a drink,” I say.
In the time it takes me to answer him, he’s schooled his features and now gives me an easy smile. At least it’s meant to look easy. Now that I’m paying attention, though, I see it’s not. Not really.
“Well, then I have a surprise.” We walk around the back of the property and I find Clara sitting on the patio.
“Tada!” she announces, standing, stretching her arms wide.
“Clara dropped by out of the blue,” Rafa says.
“Well, this is a nice surprise,” I say, kissing each of Clara’s cheeks when I get to her. “Aren’t you supposed to stay in Syracuse?”
“Ugh, Stefan,” she starts, sitting back down and picking up her glass of wine. “Syracuse is the most boring place on earth.”
“I offered to move you to Rome.”
“I’d rather be here, in Palermo. With my two favorite cousins,” she says, smiling up at Rafa who is still standing.
“You’re alone again?” Rafa asks. His tone is so opposite Clara’s light one.
I nod.
“I told you. You can’t do that, Stef. There are people who…” he trails off.
“I can take care of myself, Rafa. And besides, you’re here. I can trust you, can’t I?”
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “What can I get you to drink?”
I see he’s drinking a Peroni. “Beer’s fine.”
He disappears into the house.
Clara sits back, taking a cigarette from what I assume is Rafa’s pack and lighting one. She folds one leg over the other and studies me as she exhales smoke.
“Now that you married her, can I come back?”
“You’re already back. You clearly don’t need my permission.”
“I was just visiting. Dropping in.”
“It’s quite a drive to drop in.”
Rafa comes outside then, sets a bottle of beer in front of me and has a second ready for himself. He finishes the open bottle and picks up the second.
Using my wedding ring as a bottle opener, I pop the lid and drink a long swallow. I watch the two of them.
“You know what I miss,” Clara begins, setting her cigarette on the ashtray and leaning forward toward me. “Us.”
“Us?” I’ve always known Clara to be more cunning than Rafa may choose to see. It’s never bothered me before. It bothers me now.
“Us,” she says, standing. “Together.” She reaches back to unzip her dress and a moment later, she’s standing in a bikini.
I thought she’d have been naked under there and I mentally berate myself for thinking it. For thinking her so deceptive. I’ve known her all my life. She’s family.
But then she gives me a wicked grin, reaches back to undo her top and drops it to the ground.
I look at her. At her heavy breasts with their large, dark nipples.
And she’s not done yet. I wonder if she’s encouraged by my silence because she hooks her thumbs into her bikini bottoms and pushes them down slowly, bending deeply as she does, giving Rafa an eyeful.
“Clara,” he says, her name a command.
She cranes her neck to look at him, remaining bent over all the while.
“Yes?” she asks coyly.
“Put your clothes back on.”
She turns to me, straightens, cocks her head to the side.
I slide my gaze down, down to the bare slit of her sex, to the pussy lips just visible to me.
“Do you want me to put my clothes back on, Stefan?” She turns in a circle, faces me again. “You used to prefer me like this.”
I sip my beer, let my gaze slide over her once more, then meet her eyes. “That was past. Get dressed.”
Her expression changes, hardens. “That sad little virgin bride of yours can’t be giving you what you need.”
“You don’t know what I need, Clara. We had our fun, but I’m married now. Things are different.”