Page 80 of Forsaking All Others

“This one,” Dario called out, lifting our joined hands to test the material between his fingers.

Behind us, the shopkeeper laughed in delight. “Well, she can certainly pull it off. It makes quite the statement. May I ask the occasion?”

“No,” he said brusquely, already walking us back to the fitting room.

I rolled my eyes at his back. “Would it kill you to be nice?”

“I was just nice to you in the parking garage, and I didn’t seem to spontaneously combust,” he retorted dryly, stopping by a suede bench to take a seat.

“Maybe it will be a delayed reaction?” I suggested with a saccharine smile.

He snorted again, unbuttoning his blazer jacket. I noticed the sheath of his knife holster peeking out under his arm, and the sight of it settled me slightly. Dario was infamous with his keris dagger. I realized how much I wanted him to be safe as I stood in the upscale boutique about to be dressed for his pleasure. The idea of ever receiving another one of his body parts was absolutely abhorrent to me.

My phone buzzed in my purse as if in answer to my revelation, and I pulled it out after I closed the fitting room door.

Finn: Forensics and DNA test should be back in four days. It’s as fast as they can do the tests. In the meantime, I’ll get a start on those financials. I’ll prioritize the client’s case, then move on to searching for evidence of connection with Lo Spettro. Be patient with me.

Fiammetta: Thanks, Finny. I owe you.

Finn: Movie night at your sick house with some of your chef’s prosciutto mac & cheese and we’re even.

Fiammetta: Love you.

Finn: Right back atcha, babe.

“Here you go,” the woman said as she knocked on my door.

I opened it to accept a few dresses, including the flame-colored one. “Please excuse my very rude husband. What’s your name? Thank you for helping us.”

“It’s my job,” she assured me with a wink, as if she was used to taciturn partners. “And I’m Alba if you need any help.”

I thanked her, ignoring Dario’s gaze as I closed the door and shed my work clothes.

“Don’t bother trying on any of the others,” my husband ordered mildly from the other side of the door.

I made a face at the mirror as I stepped into the dress he had chosen and then was forced to accept his choice after I had it fastened closed.

It was exquisite.

With my hair in big brushed-out curls I’d fashioned that morning and the same ruby earrings I wore every day that Ricco and Beppe had given me for my wedding present, I looked like some kind of fiery sprite.

No, not a sprite.

Something more like a demon from hell, dangerously sexy and powerful. My naturally tanned skin glowed against the fabric, and the copper and gold highlights in my brown hair glimmered.

“I knew it would be perfect.”

My gaze snapped up to Dario’s in the mirror’s reflection where he suddenly lurked at the open door to the change room. As I watched, he closed and locked the door before stepping up flush to my back. Entranced, I tracked his hand as he lifted my hair to pull it behind my shoulders and trace his fingers down my neck into the deep V of exposed flesh between my breasts.

“You look as you should,” he murmured, his gaze transfixed by the path of his hand between my breasts. “Beautiful and deadly.”

“Deadly?” I questioned, surprised by the description.

I was so used to being described all my life as the good, obedient little Mafia daughter and wife. Calling me deadly gave me an autonomy I had always craved. Unbeknownst to him, it validated the life I’d carved out for myself as the Oracle.

“Deadly,” he repeated firmly, flattening his palm to my breastbone so his hand spanned my entire chest like a necklace of possession. “I think you proved that when you put a bullet in Serena Nenci.”

Air was thin in my lungs, so I dragged in a shaking breath.