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“I’m not trying to sound like a pain—”
“You always sound like a pain,” he interrupts.
I flip him off before swinging my arm out to signal toward the living room. “It’s too … modern. It’s like a saltine cracker. Dry and boring.” I hate that I almost sound like I’m sulking.
I whip around and rest my back against the counter.
Benny’s steps are loud as he walks toward me. “Is there anything you’re happy with, my unwanted wife?” His strides are long, and when he reaches me, he crowds me against the counter.
“Anything I’m happy with? No.” I lose a breath at our closeness and grip the edge of the counter. “But if I can make a list of what I’m unhappy with, I’ll start with my little nickname. Unwanted wife? How unoriginal.”
His face is only inches from mine, and our eyes meet. “What would you rather I call you?”
“Neomi.” I smirk. “Your Highness.”
I’d actually gag if he called me the second one.
He gives me a wry smile. “Unwanted wifehas a better ring to it.”
“So doesunwanted husband. Looks like we’re two peas in an unwanted pod.”
“I don’t want to be your unwanted husband.”
Benny bows his head, lowering it to the curve of my neck, and I shiver when the coarse scruff on his cheek scratches my skin.
“What do you want to be?” I breathe out.
He feathers light kisses on my cheek, and a chill runs down my spine. I curl my toes, stopping myself from arching my hips forward to rub them against him. If he didn’t have me pinned back, I’d collapse to the floor.
“Your undoing,” he whispers before stepping away from me.
* * *
On the ride home,I request a stop for ice cream.
It’s another antic to fuck with him, but to my disbelief, he whips into the drive-through of my favorite ice cream shop. I order a cherry cordial sundae. Benny orders nothing. I eat while he drives me home.
There are so many sides to him.
He’ll easily kill a man with no regrets.
He’ll make it clear he’d rather shoot himself than marry me.
But he’ll also stop and buy me ice cream.
I always knew Costa Nostra men were complicated.
Benny is a puzzle, and I get another piece of him each time we're together. Whether that puzzle is one of a dream or a nightmare is yet to be determined.
The security guard at our neighborhood gate waves him in without bothering to check if he’s a resident. I’m sure it’s the same way he weaseled himself inside earlier. Everyone knows who Benny is, and people don’t say no to him.
He parks in front of the two-story brick colonial I’ve lived in since I was ten. It has character. You walk into my family home, and you’ll see it’s lived in. You’ll get hints about each person who resides there.
There are photos.
Nicks in the flooring.
Furniture passed down through generations.
