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Although, I was distracted when we left. Vitelli knows who Helena is. Knows about the Willow Girl. He shouldn’t, but my dear stepmother had been to visit him. I assume this is where she and Ethan had come to on one of their nights off the island.
I’m not the only one who’s broken the rules of the Willow game. Secrecy is an important one. But there are others and I knew the moment I chose Helena, that slash of pig’s blood on her sheath would haunt me.
I guess I’m not surprised Lucinda was here. She’s is preparing for war. So am I. And I’m better armed than she. This trip was fruitful, my guess correct.
But I know using what I learned against her will hurt Ethan, even if it does save Helena. At least from one brother. I’ll worry about the other later, though. I have to think about how to handle Ethan. If I’m not careful, this will damage him, and I’ve done enough damage.
I glance at Helena, who sits stiff as a board beside me. Quite frankly, it’s pissing me off. What I’m doing, I’m doing for her.
I lean in to her ear. “What the fuck is the problem?”
She gives me a lethal look.
The soprano hits a high note, and the music abruptly stops. After a moment of utter silence, the people around us stand and cheer. I take Helena by the arm, raise her to stand, and walk her toward the aisle before it’s overrun during the intermission.
“What are you doing? It’s not finished.”
“We’re going somewhere more private to watch the rest.”
She glances up at me. “I’m fine where we are.”
“I’m not.”
Remarkably, I don’t have to shove anyone out of my way as I maneuver us east of the stage and to a service door. I push it open, see the actors on their way to their dressing rooms, hear the staff hurrying to prepare for the Second Act.
“I don’t think we’re supposed to be here,” she says, pulling back.
“Shh.” I glance both ways, and we cross the hall and walk a little farther to get to another door. It’s darker in here. I use the flashlight on my phone to guide us through the stored props.
She’s slow because she’s looking at everything.
We reach the curtained-off stairs. I push them aside and point. “This way.”
She peeks up the narrow, stone staircase. “What’s up there?”
“You’ll see.”
Her sense of adventure outweighs whatever it is she’s upset about. She climbs the stairs, hands on either stone wall. At the top, there’s another door. I reach over her to push it open. It sticks a little but eventually gives and a moment later, we’re outside, in a small area that’s a sort of balcony from where we can see the whole of the colosseum.
“Wow. Are we supposed to be here?” She looks down, up, at everything around her.
“No, probably not.”
She turns to me. “How do you know about it?”
“My dad used to bring us here when we were little. We’d come to three operas a week some summers. It got a little dull, so Ethan, Gregory, and I would explore.”
“They just let you explore? Here?”
“They didn’t know exactly where we were.”
The orchestra signals the Second Act is about to begin, and it seems to remind Helena of her annoyance. I see it on her face.
“What happened between dinner and this?”
She turns to me. “Nothing.”
“Something.”
She studies me, and I wait.
“What were you doing in that room with Alexa 2.0?”
I’m confused. Although the Alexa 2.0 is funny. “Were you spying?”
“No. I was upstairs on the balcony. I saw her come out of a room, and you followed soon after. She was adjusting her dress like her boob fell out, which I wouldn’t be surprised if it did, considering.” She rolls her eyes and purposefully turns her gaze to the stage.
“You sound jealous, Helena.”
She snorts. “You didn’t have to take me to the party. You could have left me at the hotel.”
“So you could run off to the train station again?”
She gives me a glare.
I get behind her, push her hair over her shoulder, and put my hands beside hers on the stone wall. I kiss her neck, the curve of her shoulder, the first welt on her back.
“Stop.”
I slide one hand inside the triangle covering her breast and the other between her legs.
“Alexa 2.0 is like a piece of birthday cake.”
I’m rubbing her pussy, kissing another line of red. She turns her head.
“What do you mean?”
“She’s nice to look at. Maybe makes your mouth water.”
She shoves at my forearm. “Then you should go have a slice.”
“That’s the point. Everyone can have a slice. Everyone has.”
“Have you?”
“A long time ago.” I pull my hand from her breast and make her look at me when she turns away. “And I don’t want seconds.” I kiss her. Her mouth opens, and her pussy is wet in my hand. “You’re what I want. This mouth, this pussy. You.”
