Turning my head toward the sound of soft breathing, I found Lia curled into herself and her cheek rested on her folded hands. Her face was partly hidden by her golden hair, making her look like an angel.
After she patched up my cut, we went to sleep. I liked sharing the room with her, her scent perfuming the air. It calmed me.
I sat up, took a quick shower, and then headed to my office.
Romeo was there, sprawled out on the sofa, watching the Boston Red Sox playing against the Yankees. A rerun. It was my brother’s favorite pastime, although only God knew why.
He glanced toward me as I sank down on the seat behind the desk and reached for the secured laptop I kept here.
“What’s up with the ridiculous Band-Aid?” Romeo asked, nodding at my neck.
“Razor cut.”
Romeo leaned back, eyebrows raised. “Yeah, because you look clean-shaven.”
I brushed off his comment and sat down at my desk. “Shouldn’t you be working?”
“I am.”
“It doesn’t look like it to me.”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
“Doubt it.”
Romeo was quiet for a moment, and that was usually never a good sign. “Just look in the mirror, man. You say you cut yourself shaving, yet you’re sporting a three-day stubble.” He chuckled. “Like I said, looks can be deceiving.”
I laughed, then zeroed my attention on the screen. He continued watching the baseball game, and we sat there in silence for a while.
“You have the patience of a saint.”
“Not really.”
He scoffed.
“Not too many husbands are willing to sleep on the couch during their honeymoon or put up with a bride who tries to slice their throat.”
“She didn’t mean to.”
Romeo laughed. “Right.” And then sobered. “You’re being serious?”
“She has nightmares. She thought she was protecting me.”
He shook his head. “Jesus Christ, you are actually serious. You’re seriously pussy-whipped, except you haven’t even had her pussy yet.”
I continued typing. “Fuck you, Romeo. And if you mention my wife and the wordpussyin the same sentence again, you’re getting a beat-down.”
“Duly noted.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now, have you gotten in touch with Asher?”
Asher Varangr was somewhat of a pirate, treasure hunter, and, you could say, a criminal. I didn’t conduct too much business with him, but occasionally, I would reach out for certain rare artifacts that were illegal to procure via legal channels.
Like today.
It’d be a one-and-done kind of deal, then we probably wouldn’t hear from each other for another year when he needed weapons and I needed a rare artifact.
“Yes, he’s waiting for us in Cuba. And before you ask, yes, I talked to the Corsicans too. They’re lined up for the delivery right after Asher.”
