Mom Married the Don for Peace, So I Made His Son Kneel novel · Chapter 11 of 24

Chapter 11: The Shower

Riccardo's POV

On the night of the fifth of January she came across the frozen lawn at ten o'clock in her work boots.

She smelled of diesel and cold air, and I decided to tell her.

I had decided it a hundred times since Christmas.

Each time I'd got as far as opening my mouth.

I stood at the top of the carriage house stairs and watched her climb them.

Her braid hung over her shoulder, and her cheeks were red from the wind.

The Kings dinner was tomorrow.

The old captains would cut the cake in the Portuguese club, and every man in that room knew what she wore on that chain.

Joaquim Tavares would be there.

I could not let her hear it from him.

"Madalena," I said, when she reached the top step. "I have to tell you something, and I have to tell you tonight."

She stopped in front of me.

She looked at my face, and her smile went still.

"Is it bad?" she asked.

"It's not what you'll think. It's not another woman. It's not a lie about how I feel."

"Then it'll keep," she said.

"It won't," I said.

She put two fingers over my mouth.

"Tomorrow," she said. "After the dinner."

"I'll hear anything you want to say, with my hair wet and my clothes on and a drink in my hand."

"Madalena," I said.

"Tonight I've been on a boat since four in the morning, and I want a hot shower, and I want you naked and stupid."

I should have said no.

I knew it then, and I think I will know it all my life.

But she was looking at me with her brown eyes tired and bright.

Her fingers were warm on my lips, and I wanted what I wanted.

"Yes," I said against her fingers.

"Good."

She took my hand and led me through the long room to the bathroom.

I had built it myself the summer after my mother died.

It was a brick-walled room with a skylight and a big walk-in shower, tiled gray, with a bench along the back wall.

She turned on the water.

Steam rose.

She stood in front of me and held up her arms, and I peeled off her sweater, her thermal shirt, her bra.

I knelt and unlaced her boots and drew off her jeans and everything under them.

She stood naked in the steam with her braid over one breast, and I looked up at her from my knees.

"You're doing it again," she said.

"What?" I said.

"Staring."

"You're worth it."

She laughed softly.

Then she reached up behind her neck and unclasped the chain.

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