Page 76 of Iron Cross

“These dresses won’t fit me,” she said again, looking away from me, her arms trying to conceal herself, though it was futile.

I stepped forward, looking at her face, because even now, even when I wanted to drink her in, I wanted her comfort too. I wanted to protect her from whatever was blasting through her mind.

“I think you’re being hard on yourself,” I said, reaching out a hand, to touch the pretty breasts that I had missed.

She snorted, though she did not recoil from my touch.

She was right on a few things - she was thinner now. She had lost the glorious fullness in the cheeks, and the round hourglass shape that I had adored. I didn’t care. She was beautiful either way. Still, the signs of neglect were written all over her. In hersunken eyes, the deep bags beneath them, as well as the slimness in her arms and abdomen that came from too many skipped meals.

I made a mental note to be sure that she was fed, so that she would resume the Rubenesque figure I had so admired. The one that screamed of health and lusty fullness.

"Who did you think I was?" I asked, when she finally settled into a pose, one hip out, a knee bent to slim her waist and round her pretty hips. She let her arms fall to her sides, following the sweet curves of her body.

I wondered, briefly, if she'd chosen to stand like this to make me happy. Did she wish to look appealing to me? Did she want to seduce me?

That was ridiculous, of course. All she had to do was take in a breath, and I would be seduced. A simple blink of her eyes could bring me to my knees.

"I thought you were..." Her eyes shut and, for once, I wondered if she was trying to tell me the truth. "I thought you were an honest man who... who..."

She looked away, hiding her face, and I resisted the urge to grab her wrists and pin them to the bed, to lay her bare before me, her secrets in those gorgeous eyes.

"I thought you would bring peace. To you, to Cosima... I thought that's what you meant when you... when you spoke to her in front of me."

I bristled, remembering how I had exchanged words with Cosima Durante on her phone, after stealing our first kiss. How I had talked of ridding ourselves of the past and moving ahead to a better future. I had meant it back then. But things had changed when those bastards threatened my wife.

I’d still ally with Cosima, if for no other reason than to spare the consiglieri who lived in the cell below our feet.

"And now, what do you think?" I traced my hand over her bare chest, to her throat, to the beautiful pulse point there that told me she was alive.

As long as she lived, she would be beautiful. My sweet, eternal Muse.

"I think that you're a monster," she said, with an honesty that wounded and healed me all at once.

"I have never lied to you about that," I chuckled, as I leaned down to place my lips at her clavicle. “But I can be your monster, if you let me.”

She shook her head, turning away from me. She brought her hands up to cover her face, hiding herself from me. I looked down at myself, realizing that I was fully clothed while she remained exposed and maybe, just maybe, for once, I wanted us on equal footing.

I pried off my shirt, letting it fall to the ground in a quiet rustle of silk.

That made her turn her head towards me, her eyes wide, as she drank me in. Her nostrils flared, her lips parted, as she swiped her lower lip with her sweet, pink tongue.

"You have new scars," she whispered, quietly. "What happened?"

Sweet Muse, trying to change the subject. Trying to turn the conversation from herself - not realizing that therewasno part of me that had not changed because of her. That my sun and moon rose and faded based on the state of our marriage.

"I got them looking for you," I said, clenching my fist. "You mean this one, aye?"

I pointed at my shoulder, at the knife wound I'd received.

"I got it on my way to see you. I found an Italian man who thought he'd find you in Brooklyn, at an art gallery. I killed him." She shuddered at my words, and I didn't know if that was because she was scared of someone finding her or of the thought of me killing someone. But for the sake of honesty, I gave her more details. "I confronted him, and he pulled a knife. So I pulled mine and slit his throat, as he stabbed my shoulder."

It was time she knew what a monster I truly was, and it would only happen if she knew the details.

"I was never in Brooklyn," she whispered.

"Doesn't matter. Anyone who tries to harm you will die."

"Why?" She shook her head. "Why do you care? We were together for two weeks, and you... why do you care?"

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