CHAPTER 9
”Can you get your leg off me? I can”t even move,” Victoria grumbles, nudging Micaela awake. They”ve both woken up sticky and uncomfortably close.
”What a night you”ve given me,” Micaela groans, her Italian surname as fiery as her temperament. ”You snore like a drunken trucker.”
”I do not snore! You, on the other hand, can”t stop fidgeting. And with the heat last night, and you glued to me, I”m roasted.”
”Well, no one asked you to sleep wrapped up like a cloistered nun. Should”ve worn something lighter,” Micaela snaps back as she leaps out of bed in search of her essential morning espresso.
”I don”t trust you,” Victoria mutters softly, unheard by Micaela, as she strides to the window to air out the stifling room.
After a refreshing shower, Victoria heads to the kitchen for her indispensable toast with oil and her beloved café con leche. As she descends the stairs, a scent hits her nostrils—an unpleasant whiff of greasy breakfast cooking too early in the morning.
”Are you seriously eating that for breakfast?” she asks, bewildered, spotting Micaela devouring a slice of bacon. On Micaela”s plate are two fried eggs, chunks of cheese, a couple of sausages, and a slice of bread.
”I need the energy to keep up with our marathon sessions, if you know what I mean,” Micaela winks at Victoria, who recoils at the image of the erotic writer in action.
”You”re disgusting,” Victoria blurts out, reaching for the milk. ”And hurry up, we need to plot out the story. The sooner we start, the sooner this ordeal is over.”
”What do you mean, plot out? I”ve never worked that way; I just write what comes to me.”
”And look where that”s gotten you,” Victoria retorts with a smirk, relishing these moments.
”It”s just a temporary block,” Micaela replies, not entirely convinced of her own words. ”We should start with a scene of the protagonists... you know, it would be a hot start,” she suggests, her lips shiny with grease.
”Do you ever think of anything else? And use a napkin, they”re there for a reason,” the veteran writer chides, still amazed at how much Micaela eats yet maintains her figure.
”Like it or not, those scenes hook readers. It”s a book from both of us; many expect me to write them, just as others look forward to the sentimental stuff you love to portray.”
Victoria knows Micaela is right but hates to admit it. Without a word, she turns and heads to the table in the living room, where they had decided the previous night would be their workspace. It’s broader and brighter there. She sits down and gulps down the rest of her café con leche. She”s lost her appetite for the toast after seeing all that greasy food. Minutes later, Micaela joins her, observing as Victoria opens a writing program and starts organizing cards into different categories.
”We”ll start as you suggested,” Victoria concedes through gritted teeth, catching a glimpse of Micaela”s unbearable grin out of the corner of her eye. ”But first, we need a brainstorming session. We”re writing a new story and scrapping your old ideas.”
”That works for me. I”ve jotted down several notes; maybe one could serve as a foundation,” Micaela comments, flipping open her sleek, state-of-the-art laptop.
”Given what I”ve read of your last idea, I highly doubt we can launch anything solid from it. Right now, it”s best to clear our minds and start fresh. That always works for me when my prewritten notes don”t convince me,” Victoria adds, her tone more helpful than antagonistic this time. She”s eager to breathe life into their story and work through it swiftly, longing to return to her refuge in Toledo as soon as possible.
”Do you ever dare to write a sex scene?” Micaela suddenly asks, barely stifling a laugh. ”I”ve read some of your books, and your characters barely move past a kiss or, at most, a hug.”
”Just because I choose not to depict the kind of erotica you revel in doesn”t mean I”m incapable,” Victoria retorts, swiveling in her chair to face Micaela directly. ”I have enough experience to craft long sexual sequences. I simply choose not to because it”s not my style.”
”Wow, Miss Experienced,” Micaela teases, settling into a cross-legged position on the chair, resting her face on the hand propped up by her left elbow. ”Aside from being married for half your life, what other thrilling exploits have you had?”
”I could tell you it”s none of your business, but I”ll indulge your curiosity,” Victoria replies with a smirk mirroring the one she”s grown tired of seeing on Micaela. ”I was married for several years to Daniel”s father. But I”ve also been with several women, enjoyed an open relationship for a while, and currently, I have a casual lover.”
”Damn, the mature lady has some stories,” Micaela exclaims, her comment tinged with genuine surprise. She never imagined Victoria to be so open, and something tells her she isn”t lying—she has no reason to.
”I hope it”s clear now that I write what I enjoy, and while I relish other pleasures, I prefer to keep those sensations to myself,” Victoria concludes firmly.
”I”ve never been with a man myself. It”s not that I find it repulsive or anything, but I”ve always been drawn to women,” Micaela reveals, feeling unexpectedly comfortable discussing these topics with Victoria. It”s disconcerting.
”Really? I thought you were the type to sleep with anything that moves,” Victoria comments, having previously believed Micaela to be a sexual deity, indifferent to gender.
”I”ve been with many women, bisexuals, or unsatisfied heterosexuals who come seeking a little bit of Micaela, but never with a man,” Micaela boasts, her confidence as large as the estate they”re staying on.
Victoria rolls her eyes, thinking Micaela De Luca Bianchi”s ego matches the vastness of their surroundings. Yet, the two writers delve into an intimate conversation, discussing so many personal details that had anyone told them they”d enjoy this exchange, they would have demanded immediate admission to a maximum-security psychiatric hospital. Perhaps this is the beginning of a truce, though they”ve both felt spikes of tension at various points in their verbal exchange. Maybe living together in this secluded house is more challenging than they had anticipated.