We settled in, holding hands and quiet as Loppa continued his commentary. I forgot about watching the movie, and instead studied the light play across Mario’s face. He was more handsome today than ever. But I could still remember the way the mask obscured his face, and gave him a sinister air.
Yes, he was a villain in some ways. His family definitely had their sketchy qualities. His father was almost a caricature of polished political power. His grandfather was an enigma. Kind, with a wicked sense of humor, and just enough shadows in his eyes that you knew he wasn’t as wholesome as he seemed.
Loppa could easily be cast into the role of villain, but I liked him best because he was supremely honest even when he hid things from me.
Firenze was competent.
Mario was all of that rolled into one man. Villain, enigma, polished, competent, and most of all, a gentleman.
Yet lurking underneath there were qualities that made my insides squirm, and my heart race. I could imagine him healthy and unleashed. Then he’d be a force of nature.
But more than all of that, he was my hero…my husband.
13
Mario
Non c'è niente oltre te. — There is nothing beyond you.
The familiar scents of dry wood, aged stone, and the ever-present tang of ocean air pleased my senses as I breathed in the crisp morning air.
Last night’s meal was tense. Much of the conversation with my father and grandfather centered around the price on my head and the last few days. A few times they’d mention Allie, who pretended to ignore the conversation. But with her quick mind, she understood far more than she could translate.
And astute as she was, she insisted we retire immediately after a late meal and our even later hasty travel to my grandfather’s villa on the coast between Zoagli and Chiavari. The first and last thing she did was check my damaged side and order rest.
Luckily, the wound stayed closed despite everyone’s best efforts to maim me. And the solid sleep I got did wonders. When I stretched to greet the sun, my wound didn’t pinch. It only felt tight.
Allie rolled to her side so she could blink the sleep out of her eyes and stare at my nakedness.
“Good morning, my beautiful wife.”
“You look… good.” Her eyes dipped to my semi-hard cock and her cheeks flushed pink.
I smiled. I felt good. Strong for the first time in possibly three days. Grounded instead of hunted. And best of all, I had the most beautiful of women captive in my soft, warm bed. I shut the cold out and rejoined her.
“And you look beautiful,” I said as I crawled onto the bed to join her.
“My hair is a mess, and I have no makeup on. You’re delusional.”
“No. I’m quite sane.” I tugged on one of her twisted blonde locks in order to tease her. “Kiss me.”
“You’re going to strain yourself again.”
“Only in the best ways.” I leaned against her and stole a kiss.
“Your skin is cold.” She pushed against my shirtless chest.
“Perhaps you can warm it up?” I slipped under the heavy quilt.
A sly smile worked across her face. “You must be feeling a lot better.”
I nibbled on the curve of her ear where she was ticklish. The time for talk was over.
She dodged my teeth the second time I tried, but moved closer to me instead of away. Her hands caressed my skin. I returned the favor by sweeping my palms down the delicate negligee she wore.
“Another of your sister’s indulgences?” I had been in too much pain recently to notice.
“Maybe?”
