Page 144 of Dirty Husband

It's nicer than what I expected from Jeff and Marcus. An apartment in an old building—Rome is all old, three or four-story buildings. One bedroom, a den, a small kitchen. The food and appliances we requested.

When Jasmine sees the electric kettle—the one her father covets—she nearly jumps into my arms.

I wait for the attendant to leave, then I make the mental image in my head a reality.

I lift her into my arms, carry her to the bed, push her skirt to her waist.

She writhes under me as I stroke her to orgasm. It's so fucking beautiful, watching pleasure fill her dark eyes. Watching her back arch, her toes curl, her lips part.

It's even better when she relaxes in the afterglow. She wraps her fingers around my wrist, sinks into the sheets, falls asleep.

I stay with her for a while. Watch her chest fall with her inhale. Help her out of her soft dress and her lacy bra.

Then I unpack, shower, join her in bed.

It feels too good, lying next to her. It fills some part of me that's empty.

I fall asleep at peace.

Then I wake up a few hours later, in the middle of a nightmare. All those sharp edges. All the reasons why this will never work.

It's nice believing I'm capable of loving her, but that's a fairy tale.

The truth is far too ugly.

* * *

After a quick breakfast,we walk to Jeff's chocolate factory. Though factory is the wrong word. It's more a processing center. A place to sell overpriced bars to tourists.

It's on the edge of the city's shopping area. Jasmine stays close on the long walk. She squeezes my hand as she takes in the sights.

Cobblestone streets, open plazas, four-story buildings with faded paint and wide balconies.

Ruins every few blocks.

Rows and rows of pastarias, cafés, gelato shops.

Novel things in old buildings. Ruins filled with tourist groups. A museum run by the Catholic church with a line that spans city blocks.

My job takes me to cities all over the world. As much as I hate to admit it to Ian, London is one of my favorites. The old and the new are balanced. The city has history but it still looks forward.

Rome is trapped in time. All memories. All yesterday. All relics of the past.

Even when they're in shambles.

The damage is what draws people. Come, look at these crumbling pillars, the remains of what was once great.

Why would anyone want to see that?

I try to put the thought aside, but it lingers. This trip belongs in Rome. Marcus and his partner are here for the same reason.

So they can marvel at the sight of something in shambles. Something that will forever be preserved in its half-destroyed state.

Never rebuilt. Never fixed. Never released.

"This is it." Jasmine squeezes my hand as she stops in front of a tall building. Marcus and Jeff's shop. It's repainted. A brighter shade of cream than most of the buildings. It's just a little off. Just enough it stands out. "You think he'll have tea?"

"No."