Page 41 of The Viper's Wife

Three cigarettes later,my fingers and nose are nearly frozen solid, but I’ve managed to divert the blood flow back from my dick to my head.

I’ve never met a woman so guarded and frustrating as Valeria.

She wants to fucking escape me so badly, and for what? To be a fuckingforensic scientist?

I take a deep drag and imagine Valeria in a lab coat. Does she wear glasses? I imagine her wearing something fucking nerdy, like protective goggles and her short hair pinned up as she mixes chemicals in test tubes. My frowning, little raven-haired scientist, just trying to put a few bad guys in jail.

I meant what I told her. It’s cute. She gets to rest easy at night knowing she’s done her part to clean the streets of Chicago and believing she isn’t a cog in a long-running scam to fill the pockets of private corporations.

Did some goodie-two-shoes scientist have sweet dreamsthe night they processed the fake evidence that got me sent to jail for a year?

I flick my cigarette into the smooth ashtray provided to me by a stone cupid.

They should. I fucking deserved it for all the other shit I did in the name of the Family.

The same Family Valeria rightfully wants no part of. If I was a good man, I’d leave her the fuck alone.

I rub my hands together for warmth and step back into the house.

The party is in full swing now. A few of the fun aunts and uncles laugh too loudly as they wave cups of mimosas around. People I’ve never spoken to before clap my back or shake my hand to congratulate me on my engagement to the beautiful and lovely Valeria.

Never mind the fact that they probably have been ignoring her for weeks before today and still avoid her dad in the kitchen now.

Another mimosa finds itself into my hand as I thread the crowd, looking for her again. I don’t know what I’ll say to her. I just want to be near her. I want to see what she’ll do.

I find her at the foot of the stairs, kneeling before a child.

It’s a little girl, judging by the fluffy pink dress, and she squeals with delight as Valeria covers her own face and reveals it with a wide, expressive smile I’ve never seen on her before. The girl’s mom stands nearby, talking to Valeria, but Valeria’s attention is fully on the little creature before her.

Valeria sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes, and the girl shrieks with laughter before tumbling forward. A dreamy smile crosses Valeria’s face as she wraps her arms around the little girl and hugs her tightly.

Eventually, the kid gets squirmy, and Valeria releases her, popping up to standing.

A drunk uncle steps back at the same time and stumbles into Valeria. His mimosa flies toward her and soaks her entire front with liquid.

The uncle doesn’t notice, but the little girl’s mom does. Through the crowd, I hear her fussing over Valeria, passing her a handful of napkins.

Valeria’s black sweater is suctioned to her chest. She waves off the mom with a gracious smile and turns up the stairs.

The mom scoops up her daughter and carries her away.

I don’t think anyone else sees the look of longing—clear and exposed on Valeria’s face—as she looks back to watch the mom and daughter walk off.

When she ascends the steps, I follow.

Giorgia steps in my way. “Nico, I’ve been looking for you.” She extends me a flute of mimosa. “These really are so delicious. Fresh-squeezed, I heard.”

I take the flute and swallow the contents in one long drink before handing it back to her. “That’s nice. Get me another one, would you?”

I walk past her up the stairs.

The house is massive, but once I’m on the second floor and the party’s in the distance, I can follow the soft swish of running water behind a nearby closed door. I stand next to it and wait, rocking back and forth on my heels. Alcohol buzzes through me.

Valeria should be with me—that was supposed to be our arrangement—but instead she’s running off at every opportunity. She’s not holding up her end of the deal.

The water turns off.

I just want to see her. I want to see what she’s doing.