SIX

Florence

wrong with Sofia.

I knew it the moment I first saw her, mascara smudged, eyes red and puffy, cigarette with a long pile of ash just waiting to fall off the end. I had not known her long, but what I did know of her was that she was strong - unbelievably so. In the face of Salvo, her good for nothing husband, she remained composed. In the face of Arturo, who could be equally as violent when he wanted to, she stayed calm and in control.

Now, she was a mess.

The moment Arturo finally left the room she turned to me with wide eyes. I recognised the look in them; I had seen it in my own before when I looked in the mirror. It was panic. "He has to let me stay," she said shakily, accent even thicker than usual as she struggled to fight back tears.

"He will," I promised. "I'll make sure he does." Sofia nodded and reached for a new cigarette from the packet. She placed it between her lips and then shook the box in my direction. "I shouldn't."

At my refusal she crushed the cardboard in her hand and dropped the mangled pack back on to the side. Her eyes snapped to mine. "Don't leave him, this time," she warned. "You're good for him."

"I hardly had a choice."

"Everyone has choices." She sparked up and exhaled heavily. "He was a mean motherfucker when you were gone."

"He's always mean," I said, not willing to get in to the fact that Arturo had practically kidnapped me to get me here against my will.

"He was worse."

Just as Sofia said that, Arturo entered the room again. He sauntered over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself yet another large whiskey. "Everything alright?" I asked. He looked like something had seriously pissed him off.

He let out a deep sigh and then said, without turning around, "Everything is fine."

I rolled my eyes theatrically and Sofia smiled slightly. "Worse than this?"

She nodded. "Much worse."

"Well, you know what always makes me feel better? Ice cream." I walked over to the freezer and threw open the door expectantly. There was not a single item on any of the shelves. Next, I opened the door to the fridge, only to find the same thing. There was hardly any food to be found, except a pack of butter and half a pint of milk. I closed the door again and turned to Arturo. "Why do you have no food in the house?"

"Karen is on holiday with her kids," he said with a shrug.

"So you don't eat?"

"I haven't got around to buying anything yet."

"Do you still have my car?" It was a long shot - after all, it had been almost four years, but I had to do something.

Arturo glanced from Sofia to me. If I hadn't known any better, I might have said he looked a little sheepish. "Yes," he muttered almost inaudibly.

"Can I have the keys?"

"It's ten at night, Florence." He walked over and ground out the end of his cigar into the ash tray in front of me. "I'll get someone to go shopping for me in the morning."

"For you?" I smirked. "I don't think so. Besides, haven't you ever heard of twenty-four hour stores?"

"I don't think Artie has set foot in a supermarket once in his whole life," Sofia said flatly, although I could see the amusement that was beginning to creep onto her face.

I turned to Arturo and held my hand out. "Keys, please."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"If you won't come then I'll go on my own."

Arturo glared between Sofia and I like we had been sent by the devil to torture him. "You're driving," he ground out eventually. He looked less than pleased but I knew that when push came to shove he would rather come than let me go on my own.

"Ice cream flavour preferences?" I asked Sofia.

She simply shrugged and threw the end of her cigarette into the ash tray. "Do they do wine flavour?"

"You've had enough." Arturo grabbed the two wine bottles off the table in one hand and with his other he threw a set of car keys to me. "Hurry up, we don't have all night."

"You're cute when you're being grumpy," I teased Arturo as we pulled into the car park of a huge supermarket.

He rolled his eyes. "And you're a terrible driver. Watch that-" I abruptly turned the wheel to avoid steering into the bonnet of another car. "Gesù!"

(Jesus)

"They should have been looking where they were going!" I exclaimed, smacking my hands against the wheel. "Arseholes."

Once we got inside the store, it became apparent that Arturo felt very, very uncomfortable. I grabbed a trolley while he waited by the entrance, eyes scanning around him as if awaiting imminent attack. "Arturo," I said, snapping him out of his haze. "It's a supermarket. Relax."

I pushed the trolley in his direction and let it go but he simply watched it sliding past until it hit a shelf. "You were supposed to grab it."

"I didn't have my psychic powers switched on," he sniped. "And I'm not pushing that thing."

"So you're going to leave me to push that heavy trolley all the way around the shop?" I stared up at him with wide eyes, lips pouting slightly.

He reached up a hand and grabbed my chin, rubbing his thumb lightly over my bottom lip. He sighed heavily. He knew I'd won. "I thought you were the one who was supposed to do the shopping."

I raised a brow challengingly. "Why?"

"Because you're a wo-" Arturo caught himself mid sentence and changed tack. "Because you are a wonderful person who knows how useless I am...?"

"Nice save, modern man."

"It's always Italian this, Italian that with you, isn't it?" I sighed, rubbing my temples as Arturo held out a pack of tomatoes to me. Even though the ones I had already picked up were perfectly fine.

I snatched the damn Italian tomatoes from his grip and slammed them onto the check out a little harder than necessary. "Have you even kept any of my original choices?"

Arturo pulled my hands away from my hips and brought them one by one to his lips with a devious smirk. "It isn't my fault that you choose trash."

No matter how annoyed I was, I couldn't ignore the shiver that ran down my spine when his voice vibrated against my skin. "I don't choose trash," I argued, making a point of pulling away to load more products on to the conveyor belt. Somehow, he had managed to act like things were completely normal between us ever since we landed in New York. Though things were definitely not okay between us, I preferred this friendly Arturo to the one who threatened me, so I played along. "I was working to a budget."

"What budget?"

"A normal people budget."

"We're not normal people." Arturo picked up a tub of ice cream from the trolley and handed it to me.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded, outraged. "Where is my Ben & Jerry's!"

"In the trash where it belongs?"

"I wanted cookie dough!" I was half way to stomping my foot like a spoiled child at this point - shopping with Arturo was certainly not how I had envisioned it.

He took the ice cream tub from my hand and threw it onto the check out. "This is better. It's gelato."

I rolled my eyes. "Let me guess, Italian?"

"Yes." There wasn't a trace of humour in his voice.

"Right."

I stood there silently fuming as the conveyor belt moved down with our pitiful selection of groceries on. When the cashier offered me a smile I almost bit her head off.

"Are you mad?" Arturo muttered quietly beside me.

I forced a smile for the cashier. "Actually, Arturo, I'm furious," I managed to hiss through my clenched teeth. "Look at what you're going to buy! All you have is pasta and tomatoes! And-and gelato!"

"So?"

"So? So? So what are you going to do with that?!"

Arturo shot me a quizzical glance. "Make tomatoes and pasta?"

"Is this everything you'll be needing today?" the cashier interrupted our intense bickering with the worst line possible. It was like she was trying to rub salt into the wound.

I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath. "Actually, I don't think we're done here."

"We're done." Arturo pulled out his wallet and slid a card towards the cashier before I had time to do anything else. She scanned it and handed it back, along with a receipt. Traitor.

He turned to me with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Are you ready to go?"

I had no words to describe how angry I felt. Instead, I clenched my fists and stormed out of the supermarket before I could see that grin one more damn time.

Why did he have to be so infuriating?! I was trying to look out for him and all he could do was throw it back in my face. Bloody tomatoes and pasta, I mean, who could live off that! And if he thought I was going to eat his stupid gelato he had another thing coming...

I paced up and down beside the car furiously until Arturo came to a halt in front of me with the trolley. I ignored him and continued my feverish pacing.

Until his hands fell on my hips and suddenly it became hard to breathe.

I halted, back facing his front, very aware of where his fingers rested. We stood still for several seconds. I stared out in to the distance and tried not to think about the way that small touch made me feel. Of what it made me want to do.

"Florence." When Arturo spoke his voice came out low and raspy. Maybe more than he anticipated, because it took him just a beat too long to continue. "Relax." My shoulders sagged against my will as I exhaled. "Good girl."

At last he span me around, hands still firmly on hips. My hands landed on his chest to keep from falling forward - right on the lapels of his suit jacket. I looked up slowly. His dark eyes stared down at me and we shared a collective breath.

There was an inch between our lips. Half an inch between our chests. Nothing between our hips.

He brought his hand up and with a finger traced the length of my bottom lip. My gaze dipped to his hand and then back to his face. He was watching me carefully. He took another breath. "I have wanted you for so long."

I could feel it, between us, that pull that existed even across continents. It was closing the space between us, opening my lips up to his. I didn't want this to happen, but I couldn't resist. I waited for his mouth to press against mine and fell apart when it did. I leaned back against the car, and he came with me, hands roaming my waist as we went. After all this time, he tasted the same: like tobacco and whiskey, like dark nights and darker thoughts. He smelt of smoke and aftershave; he was everywhere.

Everywhere he should never have been.

"Arturo-" I mumbled, but my words got twisted into a quiet moan as his lips found my neck. My hands found his shoulders but they couldn't push; I was at his mercy. Although I tried - his neck, his chest, always solid under my touch. He took my movements as encouragement, slipped a hand beneath my shirt.

I hadn't been ready for it. My mouth fell open and my head back, exposing more skin for him to claim.

"Please," I muttered, but I meant stop. He never would.

When had the car door opened? I pulled him inside, climbed onto his lap, held his face as he held mine and -pause. Eyes searching mine. Is this okay? he asked, with less words. He let go of my face and his fingers trailed down my thighs which were wrapped around him. I was wearing tights that were thin and soft and semi see-through - he pinched the material and let it go. The sound echoed in the static air.

"We can't," I whispered, but I meant not here. Half naked and hot and wanting.

His hands found the bottom of my skirt and they shifted it up. An inch. Maybe more. My eyes were too busy focusing on his. He skimmed my hips - no skirt now, just tights. A finger slipped below the material and I let out a sharp breath. "We can," he told me.

My head fell forward into the crook of his neck. "Not here -" His hands fell away from my body and I pulled back, frowning.

"Are you sure?" he rasped, knowing I was not.

My hands slipped down his chest and fell to his belt. "No," I said, and he stiffened as the buckle clinked. Unfastened. I could feel him below his suit, through my tights. My body remembered him, ached for him.

Arturo watched me as his fingers curled around my tights. He tugged them down - gently, slowly, gauging my expression. I glanced outside. The car park was almost empty. It was dark, and he was here, and I needed this more than I thought.

I needed him.

My tights came down to my knees. His trousers, beneath me, down to his ankles. We halted. Panting. Waiting. A single finger traced my inner thigh. It rested against the silk of my underwear. I pressed closer, and Arturo drew a sharp breath. "This is crazy," I whispered.

Arturo tugged at the hem of my pants. His lips found my neck. "You are my sanity." He shifted and we paused. "Let me fuck you, Florence."

I rested just above him, meeting his gaze. My hands cupped his face - rough stubble, smooth skin. "You're not fucking me," I said breathily. "Not any more."

He groaned as I moved closer. I could feel his fingertips digging into my hips, pushing me down. "Then I will make love to you."