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“Helena, this is Mr. Vitelli, his wife Alexa, and their daughter, Alexa.”
They share the same name? Maybe that’s an Italian tradition? Whatever it is, I decide I don’t like them. Especially the younger Alexa, whose dark nipples are almost poking a hole through her dress.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Mr. Vitelli says. “I hope you’re enjoying our lovely city.”
“I am, thank you. It’s beautiful.” I notice the two women only give me half a smile.
A waiter comes with a tray of champagne. Everyone takes a glass, and we’re led deeper into the room. I awkwardly stand at Sebastian’s side while they continue their conversation.
The younger Alexa laughs at something Sebastian says and touches his shoulder flirtatiously. I raise an eyebrow and finish my drink. In the next room, I spy a long dining table loaded with food.
“Excuse me.”
Before Sebastian can refuse, I slip away and walk toward it, swapping out my empty glass with a full one from a passing waiter. I find a place where I can watch them. I notice Sebastian’s eyes on me even as he speaks to the Vitelli family.
Although I’m not hungry, I pick up a piece of bruschetta and bite into it, not caring that the people near me turn to look at the loud crunch, and work my way around the table before I find Sebastian standing beside me.
I face him and stuff a fat olive into my mouth.
“Where do you put all the food?” he asks. I did eat six slices of pizza, but in my defense, they had a thin crust, and I hadn’t eaten all day.
I shrug a shoulder.
“Okay?” he asks.
“It’s not my kind of crowd.”
“Ah.” He looks around, slides a hand around the back of my neck, holding me there, his thumb rubbing one of the welts. “Well, we don’t have to stay long. It’ll be over before you know it.”
“It’s okay. I’m fine. Go talk to your friends.” With their see-through dresses and pointy nipples.
Sebastian turns to me, studies me, situates us so he’s blocking me from view. He cups the back of my head in one hand and slides his other hand between the layers of my dress and cups my sex.
I gasp.
He leans in close. “You and me, we have a secret. Lots of secrets between us. These people, they’re an obligation. You’re what I want.”
I look into his eyes, and it feels like the island is so far away, so long ago. It feels like we’ve been here forever, and it feels like he means what he says.
I nod, but I’m not really sure why.
He drags his hand away. The dress drapes back into place, the satin soft against my naked skin.
“I need to go talk to Vitelli for a few minutes. Some family business. We’ll leave after. You going to be okay if I leave you here? No treks to the train station?”
“No treks anywhere in these shoes. I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.”
He nods and walks off in the direction I see Mr. Vitelli waiting, looking more serious than he had a little bit ago as he leads him into a room off one of the three hallways.
I spend a few minutes holding up a wall before deciding to hunt for a telephone, but I find only locked doors. Nowhere to slip inside and make a phone call unnoticed. I’d love to talk to Amy, even for a few minutes.
When I find a bathroom, I go inside and lock the door. It’s a luxurious space large enough for a velvet couch, the counter littered with expensive perfumes and soaps. I take my time and when I’m finished, I find three women have gathered to use it.
I slip past and hope to find Sebastian ready to go, but when I don’t see him in the main room, I walk toward the stairs where couches have been set up and people who want a little more privacy have converged.
I climb up and from there, I can see the whole of the first floor. I’m looking at the hallway where Sebastian went. When I see a door open and the Grecian goddess emerge adjusting her dress, I’m curious. But what I don’t expect is Sebastian to follow a moment later, eyes hard, looking around the room.
He wipes something from the corner of his mouth, and when he looks up toward the balcony, I shrink back, slip into the shadows. I don’t go downstairs for a full ten minutes, and I don’t know why I can’t shake that feeling that I’ve been betrayed.
I haven’t.
All I am is his Willow Girl.
His Willow Whipping Girl.
How much more obvious do I need it to be?18SebastianHelena is sitting stiffly beside me in the second row of the opera. I have my hand at her thigh, but she’s keeping her legs tightly closed and gripping the edges of her chair. She hasn’t looked at me once since it began. She barely did on the drive over.
