Page 60 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
Oh dear God, save us from a man’s fragile ego.
I take his hand gently in my own and stare deeply into his eyes. “Lucky. Parker Maxwell thinks he can do whatever he wants to you. He thinks he was in a fight with you…and he thinks he won.”
I watch that sink in, and then pounce. “You can’t let an inferior man get away with insulting the great Luciano Mancari like this. An inferior American man. He didn’t just insult you—he insulted all your countrymen. He insulted Italy!”
Luciano’s face grows even darker. He snarls, “And he insulted my mother!”
Now it’s my turn to blink. “Your mother?”
“Si! He said she was a goat!”
It’s all I can do not to double over in laughter. I suck my cheeks between my teeth and stare at him, shaking my head as if I’m dumb with disbelief.
“You are right,” Lucky says, sitting straighter in the seat. “I cannot let this stand.” He thinks for a moment and then nods briskly. “I will have my people schedule it.”
“Schedule what?”
He looks at me. “The duel.”
An entire city block passes by outside before I’m able to speak again. “I’m sorry. That martini must have really gone to my head. I thought I just heard you say ‘duel.’”
Lucky gently strokes the back of my hand as if it’s a newborn’s cheek. “I know the manly ways are frightening, Miss Victoria, but you must be strong. This is how we settle the things between the men in my country.”
“Really? What century is it in Italy now? Because in America I’m thinking it’s the twenty-first.”
He waves his hand dismissively. “The old ways never die. Also I am very good with the guns.” He frowns. “Unless he chooses the swords. In this case I am having a little more worry.”
He’s serious. He’s actually friggin’ serious.
I’m not exactly sure how to feel about this development. On the one hand, it’s hilarious. The thought of Luciano calling Parker—or, more correctly, having his people call Parker—to schedule a duel is beyond entertaining. My God, the press would have a field day. I can just see the headlines now: Celebrity Chef Showdown in Central Park! If they televised it, the entire Northern Hemisphere would tune in.
On the other hand, it’s disturbing.
What if Luciano hurt Parker? Or even…killed him?
Why is the thought of Luciano killing Parker disturbing? If anything, that should make you happy.
Well, because I’m going to kill him, of course! Figuratively, that is. I can’t have someone else destroy him before I can!
But isn’t the whole point that he’s destroyed, no matter who actually does it?
No, the whole point is that I get my revenge! Me, not someone else!
You sure about that, Maleficent? You sure you don’t have a teeny, tiny soft spot for ol’ Mr. I’ve Got a Funny Feeling About You?
Oh, shut up.
Even in imaginary conversations in my head, Tabby’s logic is annoying.
“You know, Lucky, I would never contradict you, because obviously you’re so much smarter than I am, but may I make a suggestion?”
He inclines his head in a kingly nod. Clearly his nose feels better now that I’m stroking his ego.
“Well—and of course this is just my silly opinion—if you don’t want people to know about what happened tonight, a duel might not be the best way to go. It’s very manly, and obviously you would kill him—he might even die from sheer terror—but it might be a tiny bit…public. Don’t you think?”
He purses his lips. I can see he’s not convinced.
“This attorney I know, she can keep it all very private. You can sue him for millions, ruin his political chances, and have your revenge, all without giving any more people the chance to laugh at you. You can destroy him, and no one outside of that room tonight will ever know what happened.”
