Page 35 of The Red Queen

Desi didn’t know how that was possible, but she liked the idea that Donada didn’t think about Giovanni.

The other woman picked up her wineglass by the stem, swirled the rich red liquid, stuck her nose in the glass, inhaling deeply, then sipped. She looked thoughtful, then nodded her satisfaction and swallowed the rest.

Desi uncrossed her arms, grudgingly picked up her glass and took a sip. It tasted like wine to her, but a good one. She wouldn’t have a problem drinking more. She drained her glass and set it down on the table. The warm sunshine filtering into the courtyard matched the warmth in her belly from the wine. Perhaps there was something to this drinking-in-the-morning business.

Donada poured the wine, this time splashing enough in each glass to fill them halfway. That was more like it. Desi picked up her glass and took another swallow, enjoying the light buzz that was spreading through her.

“You’re from Mexico?” Donada asked, leaning in her seat and draping her arm across the back. She crossed her legs and transferred her full attention to Desi.

It felt strange sitting with this woman and conversing pleasantly. Desi had never had women friends. She hadn’t any use for the women who came to the compound to entertain the men and the people she’d worked with, both inside the Garza organization and out, were almost exclusively male.

“Si, I am from Mexico, a small town in Sinaloa state.” She didn’t know why she disclosed more information than asked. Perhaps it was the wine loosening her tongue. It didn’t matter, anyway; Giovanni already knew these things about her.

“Was your home near the ocean? I’ve heard of the beaches in Mexico and hope to visit one day.”

“No. Mexico is a large country with a variety of regions. I lived in the mountains, which provided a natural fortress.” She shook her head. What was she doing, giving up all this information? The woman must be a witch.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Donada said. “I’ve lived by the ocean my entire life and would miss it if I were to live anywhere else.”

“How do you know?” Desi asked curiously. She didn’t think she had an emotional attachment to any geographic location, though she thought the ocean was gorgeous and enjoyed spending time near it.

“I suppose it’s in my blood,” Donada said thoughtfully. “My mother was a painter. She would take me down to the beach on weekends and sketch the ocean, the rocks, the mountains. She was very good.”

“Sounds boring.” Desi didn’t understand why this woman was telling her these things. Is this what women did? Or maybe it was what friends did. She didn’t know, and she didn’t understand. Maybe she felt compelled to tell Desi about herself because Desi had shared as well.

Donada laughed and shook her head. “No, it was lovely. My brother and I would explore a nearby lighthouse while my mother worked. We could have spent days out there without getting bored.”

“Is your mother still alive?” Desi asked. She hoped it wasn’t a rude question, but something compelled her to ask. As though she cared about the answer.

Donada’s smile turned bittersweet, and Desi knew the answer before she spoke. “No, my mother passed away a few years ago. She had a stroke, never fully recovered, then passed in her sleep a few months later.”

Desi didn’t know what to say, but she felt sorry for this woman. It was obvious that Donada felt a mix of pain and joy from speaking of her deceased mother. Desi thought of her own mother and understood. She could relate to that feeling because it was how she felt about the news of her mother; joy that she was alive and happy, but sad that Desi couldn’t see her.

“Have you fucked Giovanni?” Desi asked abruptly.

Donada burst out laughing, spitting her wine on herself and the table. She slapped a hand over her mouth and tried to control her mirth.

Desi had wanted to know from the moment she met the woman.

“Signora Amada!” Vitto exclaimed.

Desi twisted around to scowl at him. “What?”

He shook his head but didn’t speak again. Desi turned back to the table. She didn’t regret asking and raised an eyebrow at Donada to show her the question still stood.

Donada used a white cloth napkin edged in lace, to delicately wipe away the ruby liquid that had run down her chin when she choked. “No, I have never had sex with Signore Savino.”

“Why?” Desi narrowed her eyes at the woman, not sure if she believed her. “He’s handsome and very rich.”

Donada shook her head. “It doesn’t matter how handsome he is, he’s not for me.”

Desi didn’t understand, and she was getting that shifting sand feeling again. She hated not understanding. It made her want to start shooting people until they cleared things up for her.

“Explain,” she demanded, glaring at Donada.

“I’m a lesbian.” Donada continued to smile, though she looked at Desi with a new guardedness. “You are far more my type than the master.”

“Oh.” Desi’s mind spun until she settled on a new possibility. “Is that why you’re being nice to me? You want to fuck me?”

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