This Thing of Ours

Chapter 19

"What is this?" Ricci asked, facing a page of the document to Siena.

"What is the problem?" Siena asked innocently, sipping her drink.

"You said in your terms that you can divorce me after three months-'If things do not work out'"Ricci stated. "What does that f*****g mean?"

"Simple," Siena said, dropping her drink."I am totally averse to the marriage. But I am willing to try; that is the basis to my acceptance to the marriage in the first place. So if in trying it out, we are both discontent after three months, we can easily get a divorce." Siena said this easily, simply.

"I'm from a Catholic home, Siena," Ricci said. "We don't do divorce."

Siena watched him dubiously. She wasn't even sure he believed in religion, not to talk of identifying with one.

"Please," Siena said. "I can swear on all my designer's bags that you have never been to a church."

Ricci looked amused then, his earlier anger slowly dissipating. "As a matter of fact, DiSuzzi, I have been to a church before," Ricci said. "I have also been to the one in Vatican city-st. Peter's Basilica. I'm sure you've never been there."

"Sure," Siena replied shrugging. "You've been to a church for show then?"

"Nice joke," Ricci responded. "But this is hardly about me. My mother will not approve. And she's very serious about religion."

"I don't particularly care about your mother or what she thinks-"

"-Don't talk about my mother that way," Ricci shot at her, losing his cool again, his gaze hardening.

Siena could relate to how he probably felt; she herself had loved her own father dearly, until he was assassinated, by presumably the father of the man she was currently speaking to.

But this man staring back at her did not look at all like the very powerful DiAmbrossi Don she'd met days ago. He was essentially the same, but it seemed a new emotion had overshadowed him; it showed his humanness. He was capable of being hurt too; capable of love, loving. He loved his mother dearly.

A bile rose in Siena's throat as she said this but she had to say it. She felt she had to.

"Look, I'm sorry, all right?" Siena said. "I didn't know you were so touchy about your mother."

Ricci did not reply her.

"Look," Siena said, going back to her previous, cocky self. "Just to please your mother's conscience, you could just stage my death. Tell her I was in an accident. You are allowed to divorce a dead woman, aren't you?"

"Why would I agree to divorcing you anyways?" Ricci asked. "It says here that both parties at the expiration of three months will jointly decide to divorce. What if I do not want to divorce you?"

"You might," Siena said. "I am not easy to deal with. But anyways, it is an escape pod for you; if you get tired of the marriage."

Ricci studied her, wondering whether she knew that he, deep down, hated the thought of a marriage union, despite having proposed it. Did she know that he also struggled with the idea?

Ricci's eyes scanned the document again.

This is interesting, he thought as his eyes reached another term.

He raised an eyebrow as he said this.

"I can only touch you when you permit it?" Ricci asked. "I have to ask permission to touch my wife?"

"That's what it says,"Siena replied.

"And what does this permission look like?" Ricci asked. "Is it verbal or non-verbal permission?"

"I do not get your drift,"Siena replied.

Ricci's eyes were on her now as he said this. "I mean, Siena, when I kiss you, and you respond to the kiss and I can see it in your eyes that you want me," Ricci started. "And I kiss your neck and I follow the trail down to your collar bone and below. ..and I reach your cleavage and my tongue searches and finds your n****e, hidden inside the thin fabric of your-"

"-Ricci DiAmbrossi!-"

"-And I take it inside my mouth and I can feel you writhing and I know you want me, " Ricci continued anyways, "And I know you want me to take you. Is that permission?"

Siena stared at the man before her, dumbfounded.

Ricci on the other hand had a cool countenance on his face and it annoyed her.

"No," Siena breathed. "I have to give it verbally-"

"-A moan?-"

"-Ri-cci!"

Siena felt truly embarrassed for the first time in a long long while.

She stared furtively around, and to her relief saw that everyone else was minding their businesses. Her cheeks coloured then as she fought to control her embarrassment.

"Words," Siena said, finally. "I have to say words. The words equal permission."

Ricci watched the colour on Siena's face which she immediately tried to hide, downing a small glass of scotch. 'Embarrassed,' was a good look on her, Ricci concluded.

"And Ricci," Siena said, fully regaining her composure, "if you ever trick me into going to bed with you, I will shoot you. I will. This is not a love marriage; let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Ricci shrugged, totally enjoying himself. "I own a gun too, DiSuzzi."

His eyes finally met the last caveat. "And finally, you've decided to be the one to choose the wedding venue and you want a 'simple' wedding."

"Think about it," Siena said. "If we separate in three months and fake my death, we won't have much justification to be doing to so many people if we do a small wedding."

Ricci sighed a deep sigh. "All of your demands are things that I don't particularly like or my mother will object to, Siena."

Ricci tossed the files to the center of the table.

He took a drink from the scotch.

Siena looked at him, quizzically."So what?" She demanded. "You do not accept?"

Ricci did not reply until he had downed his glass. "You make a lot of demands, DiSuzzi."

Siena gritted her teeth. "Stop acting like a kid, Ricci.These are compromises that you have to accept. I have given up some things, you have to give up some things too."

Ricci dropped his glass on the table right on top of the stack of papers.

His action grated on Siena's nerves but she fought to control her annoyance.

"I might be persuaded to reconsider," Ricci said, mock-thoughfully. "Maybe if you ask nicely."