“Thank you,” I reply, knowing better than to make a fuss.
If Carmine wants to help me out, I should let him. That’s half of the reason we’re here in the first place. I may not need the added support, but one glance at Carmine’s men and Andretti will know that the Roccas are behind me. It’s more than muscle. It’s a statement that says we’re all family. If Andretti messes with one of us, he messes with us all. And Carmine’s reach isn’t contained to the European continent. He wants to prove that he can be just as dangerous in America as he can be in the old country. So I nod, accepting his gift.
We continue smoking our cigars, moving on to lighter topics until we’re through. Marlena and Daniela come outside to find us, making me feel all warm inside. Though I need privacy to conduct my business, it’s a boost to my pride that she wants to be with me. Maybe there’s a future for us after all.
CHAPTER 33
MARLENA
My head is swimming by the time we step into Luca’s town car for a second time. I just want to go to sleep. I imagine myself crawling under the covers, pulling them up over my head, and passing out for a week. Was it really only this morning that I was a single woman? It feels strange to be sitting beside my husband. Myhusband. Will I ever get used to that word?
Francisco looks over at me, concerned. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m just tired,” I mumble. The words don’t feel coherent. I drank too much at the party. One extra glass of wine has sent me over the threshold into something that resembles sleepwalking.
Francisco takes my arm and tucks it beneath his. This gives me permission to lay my head down on his shoulder, which I do. He’s so strong and resourceful. I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid when he’s next to me.
Sex is the furthest thing from my mind, but when we pull up to the villa, I realize that it’s my wedding night. I stumble out of thecar and into the house while Francisco says goodbye to Luca. He tosses a protective glance at me as I move, but I’m too groggy to acknowledge it.
There are some bodyguards, or whatever the guys hanging around the house are called. I don’t even know what their jobs are. They sit in the living room watching soccer on TV. I weave past them, leaning up against the wall in the foyer to take my shoes off.
Francisco finds me there and helps me to my room. I’m grateful to him, and beyond the point of caring whether we go to bed or not, I could fall asleep right here in the hall.
“Can I help you undress?” he asks.
“Sure,” I murmur, opening the door to our bedroom to let him in.
Technically, this is my bedroom. Or maybe it’s his. I guess I’m actually sleeping in his bed and he’s using a guestroom. Who knows? The schematics are making my head hurt.
I toss the shoes on the floor and tug my earrings off. Francisco comes up behind me to undo my zipper. I give him a watery smile as I work my way out of the dress. It comes off with a swoosh and lands in a pool at my feet. I step out of it and find my way to the bed.
Sitting down, I turn around to face him. I’m not feeling very sexy, and I suspect I don’t look sexy either. Although Francisco is a man, he might not care. I straighten my shoulders, forcing my eyes to open wider. I’m doing my best.
He scoops the dress off the floor and drapes it over the dresser. I appreciate the fact that it’s very expensive, but I just can’t bringmyself to care. I pat the bed next to me, licking my lips. It’s a poor imitation of a woman in heat, but it’s the best I can manage.
He follows my lead, sitting down. But instead of kissing me, he simply slides two fingers into my hair and undoes the clip. It’s almost climactic, the feeling I get when my hair is released. I didn’t realize there was so much tension, but the moment it’s gone, I get a rush of satisfaction.
“Oh, God,” I moan.
He laughs. “It’s easy to please you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my hair out. “I’m just really tired.”
“We don’t have to make love tonight,” he says. “In fact, we don’t have to make love ever again. I know you had some concerns about getting involved with me that way, even though you’ve put them aside in the past.”
“Shh,” I respond, placing a finger to his lips. “It’s not never. That would be silly.”
“It would be silly?” he asks, teasing me with his tone.
“Yeah,” I say, slurring the word. “It would be silly to say we can’t have sex after marriage when we did it on the patio where anyone could watch.”
“And in my office,” he reminds me.
I warm up at the mention of that morning, and I can feel my body begin to stir. But it’s got a long way to go before it can convince me that sex is better than sleep. I give him my best puppy dog eyes, and he sighs.
“Let me get your pajamas,” he says, standing.
I watch, helpless to assist him as he goes through my bags. Thankfully, I don’t have any secrets from him. Otherwise, it might be stressful to see him inspecting all my underwear. He finds the pajamas, a new pair that he bought. They aren’t quite as comfy as the ones I have back home, but they’ll do.
