28. SCARLET
It's strange waking up without Antonio. It's funny how fast an attachment can grow in just a few days— a very intense few days . My mind reminds me.
I sit up and look around, but a new awareness inside me tells me that he isn't here—or even in the house. I reach for the phone I left on the charger and check for new messages, but there aren't any.
Nervously, I bite my lip, contemplating whether I should send him one.
That's what couples do, right? Send each other texts?
Wait, are we a couple? I have no idea. With any other man, I would have said yes, but with Antonio?
It doesn't feel right calling him my boyfriend…
even if that's what he is. It just doesn't have the right ring to it.
I pull up our last conversation and read through it, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Another emotion rushes through me when I read what I wrote about missing him. I do miss him.
Tell him , my new assertive self suggests. I start typing:
I miss y… and stop. No, that won't do. The tip of my tongue pokes out as I think. God, why is this so hard?
Again, I type: Good mor ?—
Garrh, how pathetic is this? I erase it. It shouldn't be that hard to… an idea hits me. I search for GIFs. There. I found one. Isabella Garcia-Shapiro from Phineas and Ferb . What'cha doing ?
I hit send before I can change my mind, then immediately do. Fuck. What have I done? I throw myself back against the pillow. Shit! Well done, Scarlet, very well done .
My phone pings. For a moment, I consider ignoring it, living in the purgatory of between before and after. But I'm not a coward, and my curiosity gets the better of me.
[GIF of Isabella Garcia-Shapiro] "What'cha dooooin?"
I cringe again when I see the GIF.
A.
Plotting murder. You?
A chuckle escapes me. I shouldn't giggle at his response, but I can't help it. It's there. Born from relief that he isn't calling me out on my childish behavior and because… it's so Antonio.
Waiting for my mafia boyfriend to come home. You know, normal things.
Again, I cringe. Boyfriend, Scarlet? Really?
A.
Boyfriend, huh?
I'm not sure who that person inside me is who responds, but I'm starting to like her. A lot.
Shut up.
A.
Make me.
Come home, and I will.
A.
Be there tonight, passerotta. Try to behave.
No promises.
A.
I miss you.
My heart swells, my feet pound the bed, and more giggles escape me. I feel like a teenager again, only I never felt like this as a teenager.
I miss you too.
A.
Fuck, baby, you're making me all hard.
Scarlet: Now I'm wet.
My finger only hovers over the send button for a fraction of a second before I hit it. Drawing my other hand down over my face. It's true though, somewhere during our conversation my pussy did start… do I dare?
My pussy is weeping 'cause you're not here.
I dare!
I can't believe I did that.
Breathless, I watch the three dancing dots…
A.
That pretty little pussy better be ready for me, because the second I get home, I’m wrecking it.
Aww shit. Now I'm soaking wet! Still, there's a little devil waking up inside me. Let’s see how much he can take.
Big words for a man stuck on the other side of the country. You sure you can handle me when you get back?
There’s a long pause.
Then—
A.
You wanna test me, passerotta? Keep that attitude up, and I’ll have you begging before I even take off my jacket.
Heat flashes through me, but I don’t fold.
Begging? Please. I’m the one who's gonna make you lose control first.
A.
That right?
Scarlet: Bet on it.
The three dots appear. Pause. Disappear.
Then—
A.
Careful what you wish for, baby. I never lose.
A thrill runs through me, but I don't look away from the screen.
My heart is literally dancing inside my chest. Never before experienced happiness—and horniness—take full control of my body.
This feeling inside me… it's so strange, it doesn’t compare to anything I've ever felt before.
It's like the blood inside my veins is bubbling.
That, combined with the ache in my pussy and the throbbing in my clit, is creating a high no drug ever could.
"Yoo-hoo, anybody home?" A woman's voice rips me from my ecstasy.
Got to go, your sister is here.
A.
She's TROUBLE, stay away from her.
I giggle one more time.
Make me!
The phone pings with an incoming message, but before I can read it, the bedroom door swings open.
"Heard you were all alone again." Gigi prances in.
I sit up. I'm only wearing Antonio's shirt—again. I should feel embarrassed, but I don’t. Just like Antonio, there's something special about Gigi that makes me like her and feel like we've been friends for a long time.
"I am," I grin at Gigi. "Thanks for coming over."
She looks around the room and walks into the short hallway that divides His and Hers closets. Antonio's is fully loaded; the Hers side doesn’t even have a fleck of dust inside it.
"Still no clothes, huh?" Gigi returns.
I shake my head. "We were going to, but he got called away."
She turns to the still-open door to the bedroom, "Mattheo, come in."
One of Antonio's bodyguards enters, carrying two suitcases. "Since, for whatever reason, you can't go to the store, I got you some stuff."
"You did?" I sit up straighter, moving out of bed. "You didn't have to do that."
She shrugs, "Ask my brother, shopping is my calling!"
She waves at Mattheo to open the first suitcase on the trunk at the end of the bed. A small squeal escapes me as I stare at a plethora of cosmetics. "Oh my God, you didn't!"
"I wasn't sure what you like to use, and I had to guess for some of the colors, but this should tide you over until my ass of a brother finally does take you shopping.
" She snaps her finger, and Mattheo follows suit with the second suitcase.
Then she waves him out. Fascinated, I try to digest the quick interaction.
It was rude, but Mattheo didn't seem to mind; he even grinned while he closed the door.
All thoughts of Mattheo vanish when I stare at the clothes. "Gigi!"
I hold out a pair of designer jeans with their price sticker still on it, eleven hundred eighty dollars.
"Is that dollars, as in US dollars?" I ask.
"Oh, Scar," she tsks, "you really need to let go of price tags. My brother can afford it, trust me."
Impulsively, I throw my arms around her. "Thank you, Gigi. This is so thoughtful."
"Ah," she waves her hand, "careful, you're gonna make me cry. And then what will happen to my makeup?" She waves me off.
"Well, you can always freshen it up; I happen to have a bunch of it," I reply, laughing.
"Honestly, do you like it?"
"Hell yeah," I turn to the makeup, swallow my reservations about price tags, and look through the collections of skin creams, exfoliators, moisturizers, serums…
a black glass bottle catches my eye, and I swallow again.
Let go of the price tag, Scar, let go. I hold it up like it's the holy grail. I mean, it is the holy grail of skincare, according to all the articles I’ve read, starting at eight hundred dollars a bottle.
I've seen it once at a beauty counter and even tried it.
But hell, eight hundred dollars? For a serum?
"You like it?"
"Gigi, I love it," I tell her, honestly overwhelmed. "I don't know what to say."
She shrugs. "Thank you?"
"Thank you." I grin at her.
"It wasn't all me," she confesses. “Toni might have sent me a text asking me to get you some stuff. But it was fun, so much fun." She shakes her long black tresses and glides her fingers through them. "I think if I ever did have to work, I could be a personal shopper for someone."
Someone who has a lot of money , my practical mind shouts, but I shut it up. What Gigi and Toni did was sweet and thoughtful. I wipe a small tear from the corner of my eye. This morning has been way too emotional for me.
"Ah, don't cry; you're gonna make me cry," Gigi complains.
I sniff and hug her again. "Thank you."
"Alright, that's enough. Come on, get dressed, and I’ll show you what I got."
"The car?"
"Car?" she scoffs, "Girl, you don't call a Mercedes a car! That's like calling a lion a feline!"
I laugh. "Sorry, I won't make that mistake again."
"Here, pick some clothes, let's go." She pushes me toward the suitcase. It's then that I realize both suitcases are Louis Vuitton. “They're yours, too," Gigi nods.
Inside, I find an assortment of intimates that look strangely familiar. It only takes me a few seconds to realize they're the ones Antonio picked out on that website for me. Don't think about the prices , I repeat in my head.
"You're doing it again," she accuses.
"Doing what?" I try to play dumb.
"Thinking about money," Gigi laughs.
"Here," she holds up a tight-fitting red dress.
"We can't go anywhere," I caution.
"Doesn’t mean we can't torture the guards," she replies flippantly.