Page 80 of Vows of Blood

Standing to grab some fruit from the bowl, I walk the long way around the island, finally spotting her gliding up and down the pool, red swimsuit obscured by the water.

When I take a call from Corso, checking to see where I am, I drift into the lounge area, wanting to make sure she doesn’t drown out there on her own. I’m still debating whether to go outside and talk to her, when I see Tony and Enzo standing poolside, chatting away, hands raised to block the sun from their eyes.

So they can get a better look, no doubt.

Hanging up on Corso without saying goodbye, I abandon any pretense of working in the kitchen and sit, stewing over getting the cold shoulder.

Laughing at whatever Tony just said, Sienna waves them goodbye as they spot me staring and wisely leave her to swim in peace. After an impressive number of lengths, she finally emerges from the pool, dripping wet and glorious.

The red bikini sets off her golden tan to perfection, a barely there attempt at a bathing suit, just two scraps of fabric held together by delicate strings. Sienna stretches, arms overhead and back arching, and reaches for a towel she’s left on a chair by the pool steps.

“For fucks sake,” I groan as she bends over, running the fabric over her legs, giving me a glorious view of her ass.

"She's doing this on purpose," I mutter bitterly as Vito materializes on the mantelpiece, his orange fur practically glowing in the morning light. Tail flicking lazily, he regards me with pity, those knowing golden eyes judging me like I’m some sad stalker.

"Don't look at me like that."

The cat blinks slowly, which I interpret as go fuck yourself.

Outside, Sienna lowers herself onto a lounger, stretching out like a goddess, all glistening skin and dangerous curves. She reaches for a bottle of sunscreen and begins applying it to her legs in long, slow strokes, designed to torture me with.

"She's fucking with me," I inform the cat. "Taunting me. Because she’s mad. And she thinks I’m the dangerous one? This is psychological warfare."

Vito's response to my criticism of his mistress is to take three delicate steps along the mantelpiece until he's positioned directly in front of an antique vase that I hate but know costs a small fortune.

“Well, of course, you think she’s just taking a swim. But I know better. This is immature bullshit, and I don’t have time for…”

He lifts one paw an inch and meets my eyes with what I can only describe as malicious intent.

"Don't you dare."

His paw extends, slowly, gracefully, and nudges the vase half an inch closer to the edge.

"I swear to God, you fucking bastard, if you…"

Another nudge. The vase wobbles.

I'm on my feet, but I'm too slow. The crash of porcelain shattering against hardwood fills the room, and Vito doesn't even flinch. Instead, unremorseful, he takes another few steps to the right, where a matching piece sits innocently.

"Fuck.”

The cat's paw rises again.

“Vito. No."

I lunge forward just as he swipes, catching the second vase inches from the floor, my heart hammering as I clutch the artifact to my chest.

Vito looks slightly disappointed.

"You," I call after him as he slinks away, "are a menace."

I'm still standing there, fuming, and surrounded by ceramic shards, when Corso appears in the doorway. He takes in the scene with raised eyebrows but wisely doesn't comment.

"What have you got?” I step away from the mess carefully, setting the surviving vase on a higher shelf, hoping he’s too lazy to attack it up there.

Corso holds up a manila folder. "New surveillance photos as you requested. This isn’t… I wasn’t exactly comfortable doing this, boss."

I nod, appreciating his candor. “It was my call. I’ll take the heat if anyone finds out.”