Page 93 of Vicious Behaviors
His half-lidded eyes find mine, and as he begins to unbutton my jeans, I understand exactly how he muddled the waters. Being the muse Marcello worships is intoxicating. Being the person who receives his tender grazes, his longing looks, his gentle touch, it’s enough to make any red-blooded woman forget who she is. Who she’s supposed to be.
When he slides off my shoes, then my jeans and panties, only to press his face between my thighs as if praying at a sacred altar, every thought of duty, honor, and justice dissipates like smoke.
I have time. We have time. And no matter how small that window might be, I’m going to savor every second of it.
When I wake up the following Saturday and glance at the empty side of my bed, I can’t help but frown. Marcello always goes to the gym before the crack of dawn, but lately, I’ve noticed he’s been more aggressive in his workouts. As if he were trying to exorcise every last demon before placing a single finger on me. Whatever his method, it must be working, because I haven’t come face-to-face with his alter again.
What I haven’t managed to do is have an actual conversation with him about what I witnessed the first night he kissed me. And I really should. Sooner rather than later.
Still, for now, I’m choosing to trust him. Trust that he’ll open up to me when he’s ready. I’m hoping that he’ll confide in me and share his secret once I’ve fully gained his trust.
Because from what I’ve noticed, I doubt anyone truly knows the monsters he wrestles with on a daily basis. Marcello’s been very careful to keep that side of himself buried deep. Which tells me that not only is he aware of his alter, but he’s also found a way to control it.
Hoping to learn more about his condition, I plan to shadow a lecture next week by Professor Jane Montgomery. She’s one of UChicago’s leading psychology experts in dissociative identity disorder, and by what I’ve read online, one of the best psychologists in her field. The goal is to arrange a meeting after her class and get some insight into what Marcello is goingthrough. Maybe then I’ll feel better equipped to help him when he finally decides to share his burden with me. I have to try.
However, this morning isn’t the time to dwell on his absence or the shadows he keeps hidden. It’s the first Saturday of the month, which means I’ve got my trial run in self-defense class at Sacred Heart. If I can make a strong impression, Mother Superior might approve monthly sessions as an official extracurricular. No pressure.
After having a quick shower and the healthy breakfast that Marcello left on the kitchen counter for me, I head out.
When I arrive at Sacred Heart, I’m pleasantly surprised to see at least twenty girls already gathered in the gymnasium, waiting for me, along with Mother Superior and Sister Agnes.
“Good morning,” I say with a bright smile. “Am I late?” I glance at my watch to verify it’s not nine yet.
“No, you’re right on time,” Mother Superior replies. “The girls are just excited to start. We only allowed five students from each year to sign up, but we had five times as many interested.”
“Wow. I didn’t expect them to be this enthusiastic about coming to school on a Saturday morning,” I admit, scanning the room.
“Neither did I.” Sister Margaretta’s eyes narrow slightly, focused on a blonde girl giggling with none other than Marcello’s younger sister, Annamaria.
Annamaria sees me and waves cheerfully at me. The girl beside turns to see who Anna is waving at, her face suddenly very familiar to me.
Where have I seen this girl before?
Still, I don’t have time to give it much thought since I suddenly notice the two large bodyguards flanking both entrances of the gym, their eyes fixed on the youngest Romano as if she were royalty.
“I didn’t realize parents were invited to assist the class,” I say, trying to get confirmation if the men in black are, in fact, working for the Romanos.
“Oh, pay no mind to those two,” Sister Agnes says with a casual wave. “Annamaria’s parents are just overly protective. I guess it’s one of the drawbacks of being part of such a powerful family in this city. You never know who might get funny ideas about using their children against them.”
“I wouldn’t be so dismissive of their concern,” Sister Margaretta interjects, clearly unimpressed with Sister Agnes’s blasé remark. “It’s wise to be cautious. There’s evil lurking in every corner.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m here,” I say with a grin. “After today, these girls won’t need bodyguards.”
Sister Agnes beams with excitement, whereas Sister Margaretta still doesn’t look convinced.
“Would you like to participate in the class too?” I offer.
“I have God’s protection. He’s all I need,” Sister Margaretta says dryly, her gaze still locked on the blonde chatting with Annamaria.
“I’d love to join, if that’s all right?” Sister Agnes chimes in. “After what happened with Father Torres… well, maybe it’s time God got a little backup.”
“Of course,” I say. “The more the merrier.”
I wave off the two nuns and move toward the front of the gym to introduce myself, the polished hardwood echoing under my sneakers as I face the group. Twenty curious pairs of eyes lock onto me, and I feel their nervous energy ripple through the room.
“Good morning, ladies. My name is Isobel, but you all can call me Izzie,” I say, my voice steady and clear. “And today, I’m not here as a teacher, or anyone you’ve had to sit through a lecture with before. I’m here as a woman who wants to makesure every single one of you knows how to protect yourselves, in any given situation.”
There’s a flicker of interest in a few faces. Others just blink back at me, unsure of what’s coming next.
