Page 44 of The Viper's Wife

And I don’t give a fuck if it’s just dirty talk or a kink she’s indulging for the moment. When I give one final thrust into her, circling her swollen clit with my fingers until she seizes underneath me, the barrier between fantasy and reality disappears as I imagine how it would take root.

Lightning surges down my spine as I empty load afterload into her, convincing myself that I really am giving her a baby, that I’m going to bind her to me so completely that she will never, ever be able to leave.

After we catch our breaths, I face her vulnerable and trusting expression in the mirror.

Something flickers in her eyes, and she drops her gaze. I let go of her hair.

“Fuck, Nico,” she murmurs with me still inside her. “This was a mistake.”

“No. This was perfect.”

9

NICO

“You fucking bitch.”

I roll onto my back, switch my phone to speaker, and throw an arm over my face. “Good morning, Alessia.”

“Are you hungover? You sound shitty.”

“I just woke up.”

She scoffs. “Nico, it’seightin the morning over there. I’ve already cleared my inbox, finished my kickboxing class, and got a blowout.”

“Sounds like you’re running late to the awards ceremony.”

“You don’t get awards for doing the bare minimum.”

“We have very different ideas about the concept of bare minimum.”

“Tell me about it. I always assumed the bare minimum meant telling your big sister when you picked out awife.”

A smear of red lipstick flashes in my mind.

I manage to sit up, which my brain rewards with a heavy roll of nausea. A shit ton of mimosas and a few shots of whiskey right before bed will do that to you. “I picked out a wife.”

“The worst one possible, apparently. Papà was pissed.”

I smile.

“Stop,” Alessia says, sounding disgusted. “I can hear you smirking over the phone. This is serious, Nico.”

I laugh and heave myself out of bed, wincing at my throbbing temples. I need coffee and bread and an excuse to sweat out some of this alcohol. I drag on a black hoodie and sweatpants while Alessia chatters.

“Are you bringing her to New York? Ugh, Papà’s going to make me hang out with her. Is she cool? Nico, I swear to god.”

I find a thick coat and boots by the front door and slip them on. “She’s cool. You’ll like her.”

Alessia makes a doubtful sound. “Mamma and I want to fly down soon. Like, this month.”

I lock the apartment door behind me, picturing the bagel shop down the block. “How is she?”

“The same. She got a new tennis instructor.”

I shiver. “Do you think this one will try to give us life lessons like the last one?”

“God, I hope not.”