Untethered

9 | Black Widow

"Damn... damn, damn, damn!"' The young blonde hissed a further string of curse words that would have made a hardened criminal in a biker gang blush.

Julie Martello was gorgeous, her Scandinavian heritage apparent in her wheat blonde hair, and blue eyes that were the same hue as a Norwegian fjord. At 25, her figure was supple and lithe with curves distributed in a manner that made her the subject of many a man's secret fantasies. Despite that, she projected the same innocence as the Swiss Miss girl, at least in appearance. The expletives currently streaming from her perfect, pink lips, sort of ruined that image.

"Where the hell can it be?" She was fully inside the closet now, all the clothes that had been hung neatly inside, strewn on the floor. She reached up and was about to start pulling boxes down from the shelf above when there was a noise behind her. Whirling, she faced the intruder.

"Have you lost something, Jules?" Frankie Martello asked, idly. As men went, he was one of the better ones, and undeniably good-looking. Dark and swarthy, he was reminiscent of a young Marlon Brando. Though, he was starting to bald early, he kept his dark hair short, and it did not detract from his impressive physique or his classic, strong features.

He loomed in the doorway, standing at six-feet tall and almost as broad. His dark, intense eyes were currently trained on his pretty, young wife, and he was giving off a dangerous vibe that would intimidate just about anyone in its path. Though startled, she gazed at him with insolence rather than fear.

Older than her by five years, he should have known better than to get involved, but the moment he laid eyes on her Barbie-doll figure and innocent smile, he couldn't help himself. For the life of him, he couldn't see what he saw in her then, anymore. It baffled him how he could have been duped when it all seemed so obvious now.

They dated for just a few short months before he proposed. Evan's imminent arrival sped up the timeline significantly since Frankie Jr. was a good Italian-Catholic boy. His mother couldn't stand his prospective bride, but having a child out of wedlock was infinitely worse. They were happy for a little while, but Julie soon grew restless, and Frankie discovered a far less appealing side to her.

For starters, she was greedy and conniving. He'd suspected for some time that she was lying to him, but about what or who, he could never tell. She was good at it, and careful. But now... well, now he had finally caught her. It didn't give him as much satisfaction as he thought it might. Deep down, he always hoped he was wrong, but he couldn't argue with the evidence.

"Well?" he prompted again, taking in the feigned look of innocence on her face with indifference.

"Um... I, uh, lost an earring," she lied, less smoothly than usual, he noted with satisfaction.

"An earring? Which one? Maybe I've seen it." That earned him a suspicious look, which she immediately tried to cover up. It was there long enough for him to see it, though; he was an expert at spotting her deceptions by now. "Or maybe, it's a lot more than an earring?" he suggested, his voice taking a dangerous edge. Now she didn't try to hide the suspicion on her face.

"What are you talking about, Frankie?"

"Oh, nothing." It was his turn to feign innocence. Her eyes narrowed and then went wide.

"What did you do with it, Frank?" She kept her voice low, laced with barely concealed rage.

"Do with what?"

"You know exactly what!"

"You know," he said, false innocence lacing his tone, "I was thinking—bear with me here—if a person is going to get blamed for a crime, they might as well actually be guilty of it. Don't you think so, Jules?"