Stolen Touches (Perfectly Imperfect #5)

“You really like art,” she comments, standing in front of a wide landscape painting on the wall facing the bed.

“Yes.”

“An expensive hobby.” She takes a sip of her wine and continues perusing the rest of the paintings.

I wonder how long she’ll keep on pretending we’re just going to chat. We both know how this will end. My wife, I’ve come to realize, has an almost pathological need to stand behind her decisions, even when she knows they’re wrong. From the info Nino uncovered, Milene’s father was a tyrant who went to great lengths in forcing his will upon his children. She’s probably compelled to do anything, even fight against herself, to maintain a semblance of control over her life. She wants me, but she’s afraid it would mean she’s somehow failed. I’ve been patient with her, letting herdance around this situation for quite some time, but it ends tonight.

“Come here, Milene.”

She turns around, takes another sip and raises an eyebrow. “To your bed?”

“Yes. Come here or I’m going to chase you across this penthouse until you do.”

“I’m pretty sure I can outrun you.” She smirks.

“Teasing a handicapped person, cara? That doesn’t suit a medical professional.” I cross my arms behind my head, noticing the way her eyes rivet on my biceps.

“The only way you’re handicapped is that you can’t understand the meaning of the word “No”, Salvatore.”

I focus on the curve of her lips for a few moments, then ask, “How about we play a little game?”

“I’m not interested in your games.”

“Afraid you’ll lose, cara?”

Her eyes snap to mine as she covers her mouth with the glass. “I’m not afraid of you, or your games,” she says. “What did you have in mind?”

No, she doesn’t seem to be afraid of me. “I’ll tell you something about yourself. If I’m right, you remove a piece of clothing.”

Milene laughs and a warm feeling spreads through my chest upon hearing it.

“And if you’re wrong?” she asks.

“I remove one of mine.”

“You don’t know me. You’ll end up naked in under five minutes.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

She leans her back on the wall and takes another sip of her wine, smiling. “All right.”

The gray T-shirt she has on is one of mine. I wondered if she would wear my shirts after I threw away the shit that belonged to her ex. I barely restrained myself from setting the whole closet on fire that day. The mere idea of Milene wearing something that belonged to another man nearly sends me on a murdering rampage. The sight of her inmyclothes, however, pleases me immensely.

I move my gaze up her body until it reaches her mouth. She’s still smiling.

“You lied when you told me you don’t know why you wanted to become a nurse,” I say and watch for her reaction.

Milene’s body goes rigid, her hand holding the glass stills halfway to her mouth. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” I cock my head to the side. “Why not a doctor? A neurosurgeon? Cardiologist?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks down at her glass.

“Lying will get you disqualified from the game, cara,” I say. “What did you see that made you want to be a nurse?”

Milene closes her eyes and leans her head against the wall. “My sister, Bianca, was in a car accident when she was eleven. She almost died because the paramedic who came to help had no idea what he was doing.” She shakes her head. “Some idiot recorded the whole thing on a phone and posted it online. I was at a friend’s house when it happened. Her brother showed me the video. I watched the guy as he tried and failed to intubate my sister while she lay in the middle of the sidewalk. Only when the other paramedics arrived did they manage to bring her back.” She takes a deep breath and opens her eyes but keeps staring at the ceiling. “My father was driving the car when they crashed. He was drunk.”

Yes, Bruno Scardoni was an epic son of a bitch.