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I turned my head and hissed at her over my shoulder without stopping from walking.
“Go inside.”
When Hugo saw me coming, Victoria was in the middle of tracing the contour of his lips with her boney index finger. That corpse of a husband she had needed to do a better job at keeping his woman on a leash before I sent her to him with her eyes black.
“Excuse me.” My tone was colder than the night.
She turned around, looking startled, to see who spoke.
“Ah, Catherinelle, it’s just you. How can we help you?”
Can we? When the fuck did they become we? I was gone for five fucking minutes.
“Yes, actually, Hugo, my guard, could really help me. I want to leave.”
“Oh, sweety, you need to talk to Caroline to find someone to drive you. Hugo has had quite a few drinks.”
“Did he lose his voice too?” I snapped at her without thinking. “Hugo, let’s go.”
“Victoria, I’ll see you around.” He pushed her to the side, but the wench clutched at his arm.
“Why don’t you come and see me later?” she said with an intoxicating sweetness.
“Jesus, Victoria!” I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. “Go inside. Go find your husband. Hugo, I said let’s go. I have a headache, and I want to go home.”
Astonished by my blow out, Victoria wobbled to the house. I was sure that if I would have been anyone else, I would have got a piece of her venomous mind, but she knew better than to fuck with a Nucci.
“Did you have to do that?” Hugo said when he made sure Victoria was too far away to hear our conversation.
I chose to disregard his dumb question.
“Are you going to see her later?”
He played the same game and didn’t answer, just crooked an eyebrow at me which made me so damn mad, I punched him in the arm. I think it hurt me more than it hurt him though.
“Damn it, Cat. Don’t fucking hit me.”
“You are a jerk. Do you know who I am?”
I looked straight into his eyes like I was trying to burn my way through his heart.
“What?”
“Say my name.”
“Where are you going with this?”
“Say. My. Name.” I spoke slowly, emphasizing every word.
“Catherinelle Nucci.”
Hugo finally started to follow me. When he said my name, the words rolled slowly off his lips. His tone was grave and loaded with all kinds of meanings.
“Say it again.”
“Catherinelle Nucci.”
“That’s right.” I pushed my finger in his chest, and he frowned. He didn’t like it when I did that. “I’m Catherinelle Nucci. I’m a principessa mafiosa. I bear a name that carries respect and tradition.”
