Page 82 of Shutter and Sin
The woman laughs. “That’s a lie. You expect me to believe that he would settle for you? You aren’t even wearing a wedding ring. So you’re not even his wife.”
That’s when I actually notice - the ring isn’t on her finger. “Vedma, why aren’t you wearing your ring?” I ask.
“Well, we were going to the beach, and I didn’t want to lose it since it was such a BIG FAT JUICY DIAMOND,” she screams, making sure the woman hears every word. “But it seems I should have brought it to show to, you know, unsuspecting bitches.”
I chuckle at her. “No worries. We’ll just go back to the hotel and get it. I wore my ring, so that’s enough proof. Besides, why should we even need to prove ourselves to desperate, thirsty women?”
The woman lunges at Zoya, but before she can get her hands on my wife, I grab the beach towel and wrap it around her neck. I yank her back hard.
“When I didn’t touch you the first time, I was doing it out of courtesy,” I growl. “I’m in a good mood. It’s my honeymoon. I plan to enjoy my time with my wife. If you try that shit again, if you try to put a scratch on her body, your body would never be found.”
I fling her away, and she lands on her ass in the sand. I look around at the staring crowd and ask, “Does anybody else want a piece of me?”
Silence.
I finish packing the bag while the bodyguards stay back, knowing I’ve got it handled. Once we start walking away, Zoya speaks up. “Next time women like that come at you, and they don’t leave you alone, I give you permission to shoot to kill.”
I stop walking. “What?”
“I said I give you permission…”
“Yeah. I heard you,” I interrupt her. “But that is so sexy.”
“Are you okay?” she asks, looking at me like I've lost it.
I drop the beach bag and wrap my arms around her waist. I bury my face in her hair and take a huge drag of her scent. “You make me even more obsessed everyday. Yes. From now on, I will only shoot to kill anybody, man or woman, that comes near me that you do not permit.”
“Such a good husband,” she says simply.
I pick up the bag, and we head off toward the streets outside the beach area. The buildings here are older, with locals sitting on stoops and vendors selling trinkets in the shade. The first shop we pass has these ceramic plates with engraved designs, and Zoya stops immediately.
“Wow, Alexei. Isn’t this really pretty?” she asks, her eyes lighting up.
“Yeah,” I agree, mostly because she likes it.
“We should definitely get it as a souvenir,” she insists. “We can’t come here and not get anything. Plus, we’ve been cooped up in the hotel fucking like rabid bunnies on Easter.”
I can't help but smirk at her. “Bunnies don’t even have sex on Easter. That’s a myth.”
“Well, not in that book I read,” she counters with a grin. “It was hot as hell, and we were doing the same thing those bunnies were doing.”
I take the plate from the display and ask the vendor, “How much?”
The vendor smiles at us and says, “Três euros.”
I hand him a five-euro note and tell him to keep the change. Zoya tucks the plate into her beach bag, looking satisfied. We walk for another hour, checking out more shops. Zoya finds a vendor selling traditional Portuguese outfits and giggles the entire time she’s trying them on. My heart feels full just watching her enjoy herself. Eventually, we stop buying things and just walk, enjoying the sights of the old buildings and the narrow, winding streets. The sky starts getting dark, and I realize how late it’s gotten.
“Vedma, it’s time to go home. It’s getting late,” I tell her.
She pouts at me. “But why? The night has just started. We’re on our honeymoon. We’re supposed to enjoy ourselves.”
“I know, but we can come back tomorrow. Plus, there are activities at the resort.” I say softly, trying to placate her.
“Mm-mm,” she hums, shaking her head. “You said you wanted to get to know me on a deeper level. This gets us closer.”
“Walking around a foreign country in the dark?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she says. “And let’s lose the bodyguards. People keep avoiding us because of them. We can’t even interact with anybody. They think we’re celebrities or something.”
