Page 8 of The Viper's Wife

“I’m a woman of many talents.”

“You stay a little longer, and I can show you a few more of my own.”

I hesitate, then tug on my socks and boots. The thought is incredibly tempting, but I’ve already stayed too long. I need to get home before day breaks.

The mattress groans under my hand as I lean over to give him one last kiss.

His full mouth meets mine, and his fingers thread into my hair. When I start to pull away, he holds me against him for a moment longer, nipping and sucking at my bottom lip until he drags a moan out of me.

Then he lets me go, and I’m unmoored in the empty room without his body.

I want to crawl back into bed with him.

Instead, I finger-comb my hair into some semblance of normalcy. Dress, underwear, tights, socks, shoes, what else am I missing?

His scarf.

It’s best I leave it.

I cup the doorknob, racking my brain for an excuse to stay another moment longer. “Thank you. You were perfect. Thanks.” The wordperfectkind of falls out of me, but I’ve already thanked him twice like he’s a server at a fine-dining restaurant, so I shut my mouth and open the door to a barrage of fresh sound.

As I step into the party, I steal one last glance at him.

He’s completely naked, resting against the headboard with the sheets pooled around his lap.

I move to shut the door—because it would be rude to let someone else see him, not because I have a strange, protective urge to hide him from sight—and as I do, his intense, predatory gaze snares me.

The afterimage of his calculating look sears into my brain as I walk away.

2

VALERIA

I steal into my parents’home, as silent and careful as a mouse.

The lights are all off. In the distance, a car drones past.

My boots in hand, I tiptoe through the kitchen to the first flight of stairs that leads to my room. Dad’s room is only a single door away, silent as a tomb.

The moment my foot touches the first stair step, the living room lamp flicks on.

“Val.”

I freeze. In the darkness, I hadn’t seen him, but he was waiting on the couch.

He’s dressed in a matching set of pajamas that look polished, even now when there’s no one here to see him but me.

“What?” I ask in a toneless voice. It’s late. Maybe he’s tired.

“Come here.”

I shuffle across the carpet and stand in front of my brother on the couch, just out of hitting range.

Stefano sets his glass of whiskey on the coffee table andstands. He’s only a little taller than me, but I’ve always felt tiny next to him. He brings his face close to mine and sniffs.

“You’ve been drinking.”

I don’t make excuses.