floods and I feel myself clenching down on his shaft, wringing every ounce of pleasure I can.
And for that one brief, beautiful moment, everything is right in the world.
If only that could’ve lasted.
22
Dani
When I was a little girl, I always used to be able to fall asleep as soon as the light went off. Dad would stand at the door and tell me some lame dad joke—which I found hilarious as a kid and which I’d kill to hear again—and then just turn off the light. Like that, click, and it’d be lights out for little Dani, too.
But that isn’t always the case now that he’s gone. Sure, if I’m exhausted from a shift, I might just collapse into an exhausted mess. But sometimes my thoughts will just go around and around like a carousel.
Like tonight, as I replay the way Madolina looked when she was pretending not to know what I said. Or seeing Angelo’s mouth, slicked with my wetness, looking at me like there was nothing else in the world that mattered.
I stand up, glancing at my phone. It’s three in the morning. I try to lose myself in my book. I’m currently reading a novel about a WWII nurse. It’s a good story, but right now the words are just blurring across the page meaninglessly.
I end up walking down the hallway toward the kitchen. I’ll make myself some chamomile tea or something.
I pause at the corner when I hear him. His steps are not quite loud and not quite quiet. He’s breathing heavily.
When I peek my head around the corner, I see Angelo, dressed in his suit, fists clenched as he walks up and down. His hair is mussed and his jaw is clenched. He stops when he sees me looking, trying to mask his tension with a smile.
“Dani,” he says casually. “Can’t sleep?”
“You’re one to talk. What’s wrong?”
He frowns. “Who said anything’s wrong?”
“Nobody needed to. Your whole demeanor did the talking.”
“It’s …” He trails off, wandering over to the bar. But then he turns and walks to the couch instead. He clearly can’t stay still. “It’s nothing for you to worry about.”
“Who said I’m worried?” For some reason, it feels extremely important that we both keep up the charade, the stupid game we’ve been playing since we met of who-cares-less. “I’m just curious. You can talk to me, you know. We are married, after all.”
I slide next to him on the couch. We sit close, legs touching. I’m in my silk PJs, the ones he provided and that normally make him eager to jump my bones as soon as he sees me. But tonight, he just stares at the switched-off TV with a dark expression.
“A man who works for himself,” he starts slowly, “all he has to worry about is himself, and maybe his family. But a man who leads other men? That man is a boss, and he has all these people depending on him. And their families, too. And shit, Dani—what the hell am I supposed to do now? Felice, he was—he didn’t deserve this.”
I swallow. “I’m going to say something now, Angelo. I want you to let me talk.”
He nods, and then says, skeptically, “Okay …”
I take a deep breath. This could be a mistake. If I’m right, this could bring out a side to Angelo I’ve never even guessed at. But somehow, I doubt that. I know Angelo. At least, I think I do. I guess we’re about to find out.
“I think that you lead some sort of criminal organization. I think it’s drugs, or something like that. And I think that the reason you’re so upset tonight is that one of your men—this Felice—I think he got hurt or died tonight.”
He flinches several times as I speak, as if my words are landing with the impact of truth. He won’t look at me.
“Where did you get these ideas?” he asks flatly, his voice hollow and muted.
“Don’t lie to me, Angelo. Don’t treat me like an idiot.”
He finally looks at me, his jaw clenched tightly. I can see the pain in his face. “You’re too perceptive, Dani,” he whispers. “But I can’t say anything.”
“Am I wrong?”
With a growling sigh, he rises to his feet, returning to the bar. His back heaves as he moves his forefinger around the edge of the whiskey glass. “What if you weren’t?” he ponders. “Would you hate me? Would you turn me in?”
“Why does that matter?” I say bitterly. The city seems so quiet up here, like