Page 128 of The Man with a Treasure

I told them, “Let’s go take a shower.”

Intoxicated, they both crawled from the bed. Knowing Sal wasn’t close to letting go of that hand, I took Scarlett’s other hand and led them both to my bathroom.

Once the water was at the perfect temperature, I led them both into the shower. They may have looked like zombies, but I knew—I could feel—their content hearts and bodies.

Scarlett leaned into me as I washed her hair. She lifted her arms as Sal washed her body.

There was no sex, yet the sensuality lingered. This time, it was full of feeding desires of the heart. We were linked. Epically connected… That is why, when Scarlett slowly turned and placed her face under the water, we didn’t cringe as she opened her mouth to drink.

We only joined in.

Under the spray of water that was like the rain, cleansing our souls, we drank…

Sitting partially in my lap, Scarlett had her legs stretched across the couch, her back to my chest. I didn’t care that she was wrinkling my slacks. She smelled and felt too good to deny. Plus, she was trying something new. Sal had given her a pad of plain paper and coloring pencils after reading her a book about an artist. Scarlett had been mesmerized and mentioned she wished she could draw.

“How do you know you can’t?” asked the very smart Sal.

“Umm,” she paused.

“Dove, if there is ever anything you want, give it a try. At least, then you’ll know.”

It ended up Scarlett was amazing with sketching. She only used the black pencil but was a true natural. As I watched over Scarlett’s shoulder, I should have known those artistic hands were for good reason. In a collection of drawings, she had intertwined rosary beads, a dove, mountains, a woman’s face that I recognized to be a younger Isabella, Sal’s eyes, my cross, my lips, a baby boy… A whole array of things I recognized.

Scarlett was an artist.

After admiring her work from the back of the couch, Sal leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “You never cease to amaze me.” He walked around the couch and said, “Lift.”

Not slowing down her drawing, Scarlett lifted her bare feet into the air so Sal could sit, then laid them in his lap. When she noticed what was in his hand, she peeked around the pad. “Sal, is that milk coffee?”

My heart sighed. Mrs. Rossi’s specialty.

Sal being half-dressed in his suit—his holster strapped on but no jacket to cover it—winking at me, was somewhat comical. He then pretended to be clueless to Scarlett. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The pad was tossed to the coffee table. “May I have a sip?”

He smirked before taking a sip himself. “Dove, you still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

She got on her knees, facing him, staring at the cup. “What? I need to learn something?”

He licked milk coffee from his lips while handing her the cup. “Yes, that you hold all the power.”

Excited for the beverage, she took the cup, then sat back against my clothed chest. “What power?” She took a sip and moaned, her cloud pajamas making her look edible.

Sal grabbed one of her hands and pointed to the center. “Right here, Dove. You have me and Angel right here.”

He started massaging her foot.

“I don’t know what you mean, but, wow, that feels amazing.” She melted to me, almost in a catatonic state. Sal and I started laughing as she soon lifted her other foot. “Will you rub this one next?”

Staring at her, wanting her to truly learn—preparing her for needed lessons before she gained power in Italy—his hands moved to her other foot.

Scarlett went still. All she had to do was ask.

Then she eyed her drawing pad. “Can I have a tattoo?”

He grinned. She was already catching on. “Dove, you can have anything you want, but… be sure you want it.”

“Explain.”