“I won’t burn them. I’m being careful, Franco.”
“Turn around, Dolce. Say hello to-a Jane, then finish my eggs, eh?”
Sara turned to face Jane and smiled pleasantly, if not enthusiastically. “Oh. Hi, Jane.”
Jane’s bags slipped off her shoulders into a noisy heap on the floor. Sara had no makeup on, nothing. But Jane had never seen her look so beautiful, so young and radiant and happy. Not ever. Not since she was a very little girl.
“Eggs, S.” Jane watched as Sara smiled at him then nodded once, moving the eggs around the pan. His soft Italian accent made the “S” sound like a caress, like, “Ehhh-sah.”
“M-morning,” murmured Jane, wondering if she’d suddenly been transported to an alternate universe in which Sara was a pleasant, caring, nurturing person who was—apparently—adept at taking direction from her beefy trainer on making eggs for his breakfast.
“Jane, you want espresso? Eggs? What can we offer you?” he asked cordially.
Jane blinked at Franco, trying to get her head around the meaning behind his words. Was Sara going to make her eggs? Coffee? “No! I mean, no, thank you. I mean, I’ll help myself.”
“As-a you like.” He gestured to the coffee machine then picked up his phone, scrolling through messages.
Jane took a cup out of the cupboard and poured herself a coffee. She backed up, flicking her eyes back and forth between Franco and her cousin, waiting for one of their heads to pop off to reveal short-circuited wires underneath.
She watched as Sara picked up the pan and awkwardly pushed the bright yellow pile of scrambled eggs onto a plate. She opened several drawers before finding a fork, and then she placed both items in front of Franco, smiling at him eagerly, thrusting out her chest and rocking slightly on her bare feet. He didn’t look up from what he was doing on his phone for a good ten seconds, holding up one thick index finger, telling her to wait. Which she did. Jane forced herself to blink. When he finally looked up, he smiled at Sara tightly, with a curt nod of approval, and then he picked up his fork and began to eat.
“So…um, how was Jackson Hole?” Jane asked, wondering if she had missed the news about aliens abducting tourists from the Amangani over the weekend.
“S, you tell—a your prima how you like the Jackson Hole.”
Sara turned to Jane and Jane noticed a slight hint of annoyance that she was being directed to make conversation with Jane. Being directed. Why? And why in the world was she complying? What the hell was going on between these two?
“It was fine, Jane. As it turned out, I didn’t need you after all. In fact, you would have just been in the fucking way and I—”
Franco looked up from his eggs, shaking one finger back and forth, reminding her in a singsong tone. “Ah, ah, ah. Civility, S.”
He spoke slowly but firmly. It sounded like “Cee-vee-lee-tee, Eh-sah.”
Sara looked at him, wide-eyed, and then took a deep breath, as though re-setting herself. She turned back to Jane, speaking through a sigh.
“It was fine, Jane. Thank you for asking.”
Franco leaned his head to the side, opening his palms, and sighed. His voice was a purr as he nodded slowly at Sara. “Ahh. Like-a that, Dolce.”
Sara’s eyes were heavy, and her mouth was parted in…in what? Pleasure? She took a deep breath, closing and opening her eyes like a porn star, and a smile spread across her face. Catlike. Sexy.
Franco ignored this frank display of arousal and finished his eggs, finally sliding the empty plate forward to Sara, who took it and placed it in the sink.
Jane blinked again and realized she had been holding her breath as she observed them.
“Franco,” started Jane, having seen just about enough to feel a little worried and a lot confused. “Can I have a private word with my cousin?”
“Sí. Franco needs a shower.” He turned to Sara, his eyes intense and narrowed. His voice was low and sexy, almost a whispered growl. “Civility, S. Come and join me when you done.”
Sara stared at him, nodding, her ponytail bouncing up and down. Jane saw her nostrils flare as her eyes followed Franco across the room until he closed the bathroom door behind him.
“Sara!” Jane whispered. “For fuck’s sake!”
Her cousin turned to her in a daze then took a deep breath, composing herself. For the first time that morning, Jane could see traces of the old Sara. The pre-Jackson Hole Sara.
“What?” Sara demanded in an annoyed whisper.
Jane took her cousin’s arm and pulled her to the far corner of the living room by the windows, away from the bathroom where they could hear the shower running.
“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Jane demanded.
“We…connected.”
“You connected,” Jane repeated. “What does that mean? Did you connect over a brain transplant?”
“I don’t know if you would understand,” Sara sighed.
“Try me.”
Sara smiled, and The Cheshire Cat had nothing on Sara’s salacious grin. She flicked her eyes over to the sofa, where Jane saw a pair of handcuffs, a black silk scarf, a riding crop and assorted other latex “toys” in brightly colored shapes and sizes. She gasped, mouth open, turning her face back to Sara.
“Oh. My. God.”
“Don’t be so goddamn provincial, Jane!”
“Is he forcing you to—?”
“Don’t be absurd. No one forces me to do anything. I’m Samara Amaya, jackass.”
“You mean you…want…things…to be…like that?”
Jane raised her eyebrows, still trying to get her head around the fact that her bitchy, domineering cousin was almost certainly playing a willing Submissive to her trainer’s Dominant. Bossy, mean, selfish Sara was Franco’s submissive. She couldn’t have been more shocked if aliens had abducted Sara. She still wasn’t discounting the possibility.
“Not that you deserve an explanation, Janie. But, it just…happened. I was unpacking, and he came into my room to see if I wanted to loosen up with some yoga stretches. I yelled at him to find me a goddamn bottle of water, and he said that if I ever spoke to him like that again, he’d shove the goddamn bottle of water up my ass and he’d make sure I begged him for more. I raised my hand to slap his face, and he grabbed my wrist and yanked me up against his body. I thought about screaming but he was kissing me so hard, my arms were pinned behind my back…everything was so angry, and so hard, and I was so wet, and then I just…surrendered.” Sara’s eyes were wide and luminous, dilating as she spoke, her breathing heavier as she remembered. “I swear to God, Janie, I came while he was kissing me. No one’s ever…I mean, I never knew—”
“Okay! Stop, please.” Jane put her palms up and averted her eyes. But, as grossed out as she was by the details, Jane couldn’t deny that she was also fascinated. “Wait. Knew what?”
“How it feels to play rough. To let someone else be in charge.” She smiled at Jane from under heavy black lashes.
“Like that?” Jane glanced at the handcuffs and riding crop again.
“Oh, little Janie. That’s just the tip of the iceberg. He’s so strong. So demanding. He needs so much; he wants so much. I want to keep up. I never know what’s next. I don’t want to disappoint him. And it’s, like, shocking and a-m-a-z-i-n-g. I don’t want it to—”