Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“I see.”
I lead Francesca to my Audi amongst the fleet of shiny new vehicles. Vance and Dutch are already in the front seat, and I settle her in the back before climbing in after her. I notice that she doesn’t scoot to the other end of the seat as she has done ever since we got married, and I can’t stop the big smile that grows on my face.
“Since we’ll be spending the day with your family will we have to kiss all day?” she asks as the car pulls out of the driveway.
I hit the button in front of me, and the partition slides up, giving us privacy. I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her into my lap. She struggles weakly.
“Let me go.”
“Sit still.”
She stills, and the instant obedience makes me rock hard in my pants again. She looks from under her lashes. “Something is poking me.”
“Ignore him, sweetheart. He’s just excited you’re here.”
A soft laugh falls from her lips, and I’m so mesmerized by that tinkling sound that I catch it with my mouth. Francesca melts against me, kissing me with such innocent passion that it stuns me. I stop thinking. The urge to take her completely consumes me. Sinking my fingers in her hair, I angle her head and devour her sweet lips. I get lost in the aggressive tide of desire. My hands move down to her breasts and she moans.
The sound breaks the spell she had cast over me.
What the fuck am I doing? I can’t present her to Nonna Isadora looking like I’ve pulled her backwards through a hedge.
I tear myself away from her lips. For a few seconds, she stares at me with confusion then she swallows hard and scrambles off my lap. I let her, and she scoots all the way over to the other end of the seat.
I exhale slowly.
“Freya isn’t going to be at the party,” she says after a moment of silence. “She said something happened between you and Matteo and it will be awkward for them to attend. I asked Federico, but he said to ask you.”
“You spoke to Federico?” I turn to her, my blood boiling. I already warned Federico to stay away from Francesca. He knows better than to dare me. If he did, it won’t be the first time a Barone party ended up bloody.
“Only for a moment. Should I not speak to him?” she asks in confusion.
I grunt and turn my attention to the window.
“What happened to Matteo?”
“Nothing as it happens. He should count himself lucky.”
She’s about to respond when the car pulls into the driveway of Castillo Dimora. We descend, and I slip my arms around Francesca, a picture of romance. Federico is there with Serena, and so are Giuseppe and Isabella. I don’t see Roberto yet, but no doubt he’s somewhere around. I exchanged a handshake with Giuseppe back at the house, but Federico and I haven’t seen each other until now.
“Ciao, Fra Valentino.” Federico walks toward me with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He holds out his hand in front of me, and I know he’s not greeting me because I’m his blood cousin, but because I am the Boss. He would rather drive a wooden spike through my heart. When I don’t take his hand, he nods stiffly and walks away from me with Serena following behind him.
As we walk into the house, Francesca whispers, “Why didn’t you shake his hand? Where I come from, that’s just rude.”
“It was either that or socking him in the jaw, la mia perla.”
That shuts her up fast, but I feel her slipping away from me again. We’re nearing Nonna Isadora’s room, and I stop her at the top of the hallway.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Nonna Isadora is fierce, but fair. Don’t flatter her and don’t show fear.”
She nods, and I show her into my great-grandmother’s parlor. The huge room is full of lilies and their strong perfume fills the air. At least a dozen uniformed servants are swarming around like ants, but when we enter, they part to reveal their Queen, a tiny, scrawny, ancient woman seated on a throne-like intricately carved, but extremely hard and uncomfortable mahogany armchair.
She is dressed wholly in black. Even though it is the middle of summer she is wearing thick black tights. Her small feet are encased in black crocodile leather shoes and her wrinkled face is partially obscured by a small black lace veil. On the exceptionally large coffee table in front of her many Sicilian desserts and sweets are laid out on pretty porcelain platters. I have never seen her so much as nibble on these treats, but the table is always full of them.
You can never tell by looking at her, but this frail ninety-seven-year-old woman is the real head of the Italian side of our family. From behind the scenes, she commands her large clan with an iron hand. Hardly ever leaving this room, she executes her role of family Matriarch and she does a fucking great job as well. Hell, I respect her more than any of the men in this family.