“I want his face unrecognizable,” I said. “I want him to run, to feel real fear.”
“No,” he said. “This I cannot do. His father is one of my best men, my most trusted men.”
“They lied,” I said, reiterating the point.
He moved around some and then placed a key in my hand, signaling the end of that conversation. “This is from your grandmother and me—something more personal. A gift for you and your wife. A private plane will take you there tonight. Nunzio has the information. I’m sending more men with him, since it’s a little further than I’m comfortable with.”
“Grazie,” I said. After I stood, I kissed him on each cheek, and then turned to go.
18
Alcina
The post wedding high was still surging after we left my grandparents’casa.We were headed toward Catania—that’s as much as Corrado would tell me. Once there, we boarded a private plane. The men who filled the cabin were unknown to me, except for Nunzio, the serious Italian, and Adriano, the Chipmunk. I’d finally learned their names during our reception. I did not think Corrado would be introducing me to anyone else.
He had been quiet on the drive from Forza d’Agrò to Catania, and he was still quiet an hour into the flight. Though right after the plane took off, when he must have sensed my unease—it had been years since my flight from America back to Italy—he opened his arms for me, and I found peace there.
“Grazie, mio marito,” I whispered and then looked down at the dress.Mammaand Anna had helped me change into it before I left.
Corrado had given it to me as a gift. It came in an elaborately wrapped box, stamped with a luxury brand name. Inside was a gorgeous cream silk dress. It was the most beautiful dress I had ever worn, apart from my wedding gown. The material was thin and soft, it had no sleeves, and it came in at the waist. It showed a good portion of my back but fell below my knees. It came with a pair of heels to match, with silk bows at my ankles.
His fingers stroked the bare skin on my back. The soft touch and his steady heartbeat lulled me to sleep, and when I woke up an hour—or two?—later, we were bouncing on the runway as we touched down. I went to get up once the plane came to a complete stop, noticing the jacket from his suit over my arms, but he kept me in place. A second later, he picked me up.
“It’s customary,” he said, “for a man to carry his wife over the threshold.”
I grinned, but I could tell that the mood that had followed him from Forza d’Agrò had caught up, or never left. It started after he had a conversation with hisnonno.
He carried me to a waiting car. It was too dark to see anything but the immediate area around us. Corrado pulled out a long strip of black silk and told me to turn around in my seat. I did, and he secured it over my eyes.
“This is overkill,” I said, but smiled. “I cannot see in the dark.”
“You might figure it out on the ride, or if you see our next mode of transportation.”
All I could tell was that our next mode of transportation was a boat. I could smell water in the air and feel the sway of it beneath his feet. He still refused to let me walk.
It did not take us long to get to wherever we were going, but we did not disembark right away. The men from the plane were whispering to each other, and as soon as Nunzio told Corrado all was okay, he lifted me up and started walking. This part seemed to take time, because he was being careful of his steps.
Finally, he set me down on my feet, and I had to secure the jacket over my shoulders before it fell to the floor. I lifted the collar closer to my face, inhaling, my heart rising and my stomach dropping at his scent. A second later he took it from me, and I stuck my hands in the pockets of the dress, not sure what to do with them.
Even though I could not see him, I felt him moving around me, as if he were appraising me.
“You are so beautiful,” he said to me in Sicilian, his voice coming from behind. I craved the heat of his body. My head fell back, letting the weight of it settle against his chest. His fingertips barely traced the cross around my neck and then brushed my bare arms, my back as he moved toward the zipper of the dress.
“That’s one of my favorite sounds,” he said. “Me undressing you.” The dress made no noise as it hit the floor, but my body was instantly aware of his heat. No barriers, except for the lacelingerie.
His arms came around me, pulling me closer. Already hiscazzowas hard enough to strain against his pants.
I hissed out a breath when his hands searched my body, and then sucked it back in when he pulled me against him roughly, hiscazzoto my behind.His hand fisted underneath my hair, tugging, and I gave him access to my neck, the frantic pulse there.
“You’re a fucking weapon, Alcina,” he said. “Either your love or this—” his hand slid, roaming over the cream lace, until he touched me inthespot, the one that made me moan “—is going to kill me.”
“Bang,”I whispered.
He had started to suck over my pulse, but at that, he grinned against my skin.
He removed the silk from around my eyes, and I blinked against the soft light, the new place. He had turned me toward what would probably be the most stunning views come morning.
An arched doorway, much taller than me, taller than him, stretched from the floor to the ceiling. There were no lights to see by, but I could make out the outlines. There was a lake, or some kind of body of water, and mountains beyond it.
