She nods slowly, obviously trying to find a way to loop back around to the golden words.
"Why don't you get I love you—"
"Really?" I put my fork down. "Can't we just muscle past that or something? How's work?"
"I love it. Speaking of love—"
I groan. "If you'd seen your face, Miss, I don't think you'd be pushing this. It was...an accident. Let's just talk about something else, yeah?"
She shoots me a look, making me look away. She can be very intimidating. It's this look, that makes you feel like she's digging your grave or some shit.
Damn it.
"Thinking of renovating my house," she says finally.
I sigh in relief. "What are you thinkin' about getting done?"
She shrugs. "Marble countertops. Maybe some new paint. I just need to rejuvenate. I need to save the place after my ex husband's visit, lord knows I don't need his fucking demonic energy—"
Did she just say?
"Pardon?"
She looks up at me. "You are pardoned. What did you do?"
"No, I mean—god, that's cute. No, you said ex-husband. You were married to Lorenzo?"
She pushes her food around. "Since I was 13. My father and mother signed for permission. They called it arranged, but as I look back, it was mostly just forced."
"You were married in high school!"
She nods. "From 8th grade till freshman year of college. Why?"
Why? What the fuck kinda bullshit it that? That's—that's disgusting!
"He's like 50! Why would you parents allow that?"
She smiles. "Because Lorenzo was rich. And my mother always said, the best way to move up in life, isn't to be strong. She says strong women die in pain. Strong women only suffer. She said god gave me a body for a reason, soft so that I don't have to be strong."
She shrugs. "So when Lorenzo showed in interest in me, mother practically threw me in his arms, telling me this was my chance and that I'd never get another one."
Who the fuck does something like that to their child? Who says things like that? What kinda of...monsters would even suggest that?
"I'm sorry," I whisper.
She shrugs again. She doesn't seem particularly moved. She's just relating facts. Somehow that's sadder.
"Don't be. I lived in luxury and when I left him I took half of what he owned legally, and blackmailed him for the rest. Can you imagine what the press would do if they found out he married a 13 year old girl at the age of 30? He'd lose everything. It was amicable divorce. For me."
She smirks, looking me up and down. "Don't make such a pitiful face. It's not like I didn't like him. I thought I was in love at the time. It wasn't all bad. It's mostly bad looking back, yknow?"
I nod slowly. "Were you scared?"
She eyes me carefully. "Yes. At first I was excited. I thought, being a wife and someday a mother would be nice. I thought I was grown up. And then, I realized I wasn't."
I don't know what to say, so I let us eat in silence for a moment.
"You want me to kill him?" I offer.
She bursts out laughing, snorting her martini out her nose. How cute. She wipes her face.
"Holy fuck that burned," she chuckles. "No, no. If I wanted him dead I'd have killed him. He still pays me, and even though I'm rich, money's always nice. If he fucks up, I'll just kill him, collect his life insurance, inherit his company, sell his stocks the day before and then smear his name."
She sips her martini.
"You've thought about this," I note.
She just smirks. "I always have a plan in case things go awry. But I have a list of people I know and how likely they are to fuck me over."
"Where am I? On the list?"
She laughs. "I can't tell you."
"C'mon why not."
"Because you will quickly move up or down depending on your response, and you don't want to be number one on my list."
"Okay, well at least tell me who's number one?"
"Why, it's Lorenzo of course."
