The Secret (The Evolution of Sin 2)

“I think we need a bottle of Prosecco, si?” Mama smiled at the server and called him over. “We must have Prosecco, please.”

“I’m afraid we only have champagne,” he began to apologize but Sinclair interrupted him.

“A bottle of Dom 2007, if you have it.”

The young man nodded gratefully. “Excellent, sir. May I ask what the special occasion is?”

Mama beamed up at him. “My daughter is going to paint the naked people.”

He blinked down owlishly at her before stuttering a nonsensical reply and scurrying off to get the champagne.

As soon as he was gone, we all dissolved into laughter. I giggled so hard that my belly ached and Cosima was in tears. I caught Sinclair’s eyes mid-laugh and saw him smiling at me, the rare soft and wide smile that I loved so much. We stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, safe amid the raucous laughter to indulge for a second. I tried to convey my thanks for his approval, my guilty apology for my behavior the previous night and the bitter sweetness of sitting at my family table with him sharing a laugh with the people I loved most.

After a moment, he nodded at me as if he had understood every word in my gaze. Then he slowly dismantled the smile on his face so that when the others finally tuned back in, his features were once again perfect and impassive.

Cosima shed her clothes almost the moment we were in the door from lunch. Without a word, she had undone the knot at the back of her elaborately wrapped dress and let it fall to the ground.

“Where do you want me?”

My mouth opened and closed as I took in her scantily clad form, her breasts and lower half covered only in tiny scraps of web-like lace.

“You don’t have to do this right now,” I said even though my fingers itched to sketch her form, to imprint the beauty of her body and those tragic eyes Sinclair had spoken of onto canvas.

One slim shoulder rose and fell. “Why not?”

“It’s just not really how it works, Cosi. I need to know more about your, well, your sexual history and what, well,” I blushed, “turns you on and stuff.”

She stared at me with one eyebrow raised, amused and slightly condescending. “And stuff? Jeez, I hope you pitch this series better to the galleries.”

I laughed and relaxed slightly. “You and me both.”

“What shall I tell you, then?” She moved into the kitchen, all grace and utter ease and pulled out a chilled carafe of iced tea.

I took a seat at the island and watched her prepare me a drink, much like I had the night before with Sinclair. In a strange way, I wanted to ask Cosima many of the same questions I wished I could ask him.

“Do you have any sexual fetishes?”

Her nose wrinkled. “Sex is kinky by nature, no?”

“Well, sure, I guess. But I’m referring to specific things, terms maybe.”

She was already shaking her head. “I’ve done a lot of things, and rarely disliked any of them. American women might call me a slut.”

I opened my mouth to protest but her wink made me smile. “You’re teasing me.”

“A little.”

I pouted.

“Alright, bambina, I will tell you a little something about sex.” The word hissed out of her mouth and billowed into the air like steam from some fierce engine. “I’ve been nothing but this body for almost my entire life. It can be a powerful thing to be beautiful.” She shrugged. “But if you don’t have a reason to build strong bones beneath it, it is easy to become many very ugly things. Sad, used, dumb or dead.”

“You’re strong.”

Her slashing brows rose. “Maybe now, but let me tell you, I’ve also been sad, used, dumb and very nearly dead.”

We stared at each other. My heart was beating too fast and I felt nauseous as my imagination went to work. What exactly had my little sister done to get us out of our poverty?

“The door was open.”