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“Then I’ll build you a new house.”
She laughed with disbelief. “It’ll burn down with us in it, Corrado.”
He glanced at her, cocking an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d let that happen?”
Her comeback was snappy. “Do you really think you could stop it?”
Corrado was momentarily silent, still clutching her wrist as they stood near the bottom of the stairs. He pondered her question. Did he think he could stop it?
“Bellissima, I’d stop time for you. I’d give you the moon and the stars; I’d learn to defy gravity. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do, nobody I wouldn’t kill, if you asked me to. If you needed me to. Saving you from a fire would be nothing, purely instinct.”
She stared at him for three beats, not budging, before her body relaxed and she gave in. It wasn’t as if it was a hard decision for her—as much as Corrado would do for her, they both knew she would never deny him anything. Whatever he needed, come hell or high water, Celia would be there every step of the way.
Their hands linked together, Corrado took her upstairs to the bedroom. He shut the door behind them, locking out the cruel world that would tomorrow tear them apart, but today—tonight—it would just be her and him.
* * *
Hours later, Corrado descended the stairs and made his way to the dark kitchen. He turned off the stove and dumped the scorched sauce down the garbage disposal before rinsing out the pot. He scrubbed it for a minute but when it refused to come clean, he tossed the entire thing in the trashcan.
He headed back upstairs and showered, standing under the spray of hot water until it started to grow cold. He shaved then, using a thin razor blade under the bright lights of the quiet bathroom to remove the stubble along his sharp jaw. Afterward, he slicked back his thick hair before dressing in his most expensive black Brioni suit. With his Rolex affixed to his wrist and his Italian leather shoes on his feet, he wandered into the bedroom and gazed at his wife under the moonlight.
Celia snored lightly, snuggled up to his pillow. Corrado leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Sleep well, bellissima.”
He made his way back downstairs, using his cell phone to call for a car service to pick him up. It only took the town car a few minutes to arrive, and another few minutes for them to make it through the city. He tipped the driver handily when they arrived and he climbed out, waiting for it to leave before he started to move.
He strolled into Metropolitan Correctional Center shortly before three o’clock in the morning, his head held high and a swagger in his step. He may have been there to surrender himself to a bright orange jumpsuit and confinement in a rat hole, but he saw no reason why he couldn’t at least do it in style.
30
Grip firmly, everybody, and use deep strokes. Up, down, up, down.”
Strangled laughter echoed through the small art room. It sounded like someone was choking on air.
“Experiment with light and hard touches. Play around with it. Find out what feels good to you.”
Kelsey leaned over, elbowing Haven as she whispered, “Do you think she does that on purpose?”
ast time he had been there, things hadn’t gone over very well.
Slowly, he walked over to the bar. “Vodka, please.”
The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Do you have ID?”
Carmine hesitated. What the fuck? “You know me, man.”
“You’re right,” the bartender said, not sounding impressed in the least. “I do.”
“Yeah, so are you gonna give me a shot?”
“Sure,” the man said. “Just as soon as you show me some ID.”
Carmine stared at him, stunned. “Are you fucking with me?”
The bartender sighed. “Look, I feel for you, but you know your uncle . . . I ain’t losing my life just so you can drink. He said you were cut off permanently.”
“This is fucked up,” Carmine muttered, wishing he had something to soothe his frazzled nerves before he had to face Corrado. “Where is my uncle, anyway? He told me to meet him here.”
“He’s in his office,” the bartender said, motioning toward the hallway. “You know which one it is.”
