23. Summer
Summer
We were in Italy. That much, I gathered from the endless hours spent flying over the ocean and the familiar yet unintelligible—at least, to me; Matteo had no trouble conversing—language spoken once we landed.
The flight was hell. The dry cabin air irritated my nasal cavity, which was sensitive due to the fire, and I spent a good portion of our time airborne battling the persistent nosebleeds.
Then there was the fact that the burns on the back of my leg made it so I couldn’t bend my knee, so sitting in one of the plush captain’s chairs aboard the private jet was impossible.
I attempted to rest on the couch-type seating, but it was too narrow for me to find a comfortable position.
Eventually, I gave up and was forced to lie face down on the bed situated in the back.
The only saving grace was that Matteo had been thoughtful enough to purchase me a new e-reader—mine had been lost, along with all our other worldly possessions, in the blaze that destroyed our house—and the newest D.D.
Morgan hockey romance was already pre-loaded onto it.
Never let it be said that the man didn’t have an eye for details.
He knew exactly how I liked to unwind and my favorite author.
Once we touched down, we loaded up into an SUV and drove an additional hour before arriving at a gated estate.
After another fifteen minutes of traveling down a winding road, a massive villa came into view, and I couldn’t stifle my gasp.
The old-world architecture was simply stunning, and if I wasn’t mistaken, the Mediterranean Sea could be seen just beyond where the structure sat on the edge of a cliff.
Matteo leaned over to speak in my ear. “Bought this place through a shell corporation. There’s no paper trail that can link it to us.”
My eyes remained glued to the gorgeous piece of real estate. “When you mentioned a safe house, this was not at all what I was expecting.”
He chuckled quietly. “Let me guess, you were picturing some hole-in-the-wall, dilapidated building as portrayed in movies.”
Heat flooded my face. “Yeah, kinda.”
Warm lips brushed against my knuckles. “Going off the grid means staying out of sight, our location being untraceable. Nowhere in the rules does it say we can’t be comfortable.”
The car rolled to a stop, and I gestured out the window. “This goes beyond comfortable. This is luxury, Matteo.”
He hummed. “All I see is a palace fit for my queen, my princesses.”
Well, when he said it like that . . .
Guards appeared, opening our doors. As soon as she was unbuckled from her car seat, Bianca jumped from the vehicle, her brown eyes growing wide as saucers when they landed on the villa.
“Wow.”
Matteo hoisted Serafina into his arms before looping an arm around my waist to support me as I hobbled.
“What do you think, principessa ?”
Bianca spun around to face her father. “Is this our new house?”
A smile stretched across his face as he stared down at his daughter. “We’re just visiting.”
Her tiny little nose scrunched up in thought. “Kinda like a vacation?”
“Yeah, like a vacation.”
Bouncing with excitement, she asked, “Can I go pick my room?”
Matteo turned to the nearest guard, conveying a question with a single look.
“Perimeter is secure,” the burly man, dressed all in black, replied.
“Good.” Matteo nodded. “Make sure it stays that way.”
“Yes, sir.”
To Bianca, Matteo said, “Any room you want except the big one with the balcony.”
She took off like a shot, racing to the front door and pushing inside.
“Big one with a balcony, huh?” I teased.
Flashing me with his most charming grin, he gave my hip a squeeze. “With no one around for miles to hear you screaming my name as I make you come.”
Even though my thighs pressed together at the picture he painted, right now, I could barely walk, let alone endure getting railed from behind over the edge of a balcony. It was a nice thought, though.
“Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get you inside so you can rest.”
Seemed like that’s all I was doing these days, but what other choice did I have? My body needed to heal, and only a week into my recovery, I’d come to accept that it was going to take time.
While the setting was beyond gorgeous, the circumstances of our first European getaway together left much to be desired.
Matteo quietly latched the bedroom door after stepping inside, and I reluctantly glanced up from my e-reader. The story featuring a reluctant heroine and the goalie who wouldn’t take no for an answer once he decided she was his future was just beginning to heat up.
“Where are the girls?”
He stepped closer. “Out for the count.”
“Both of them?” I couldn’t contain my surprise.
“Jet lag hit Bianca hard. Can’t imagine she’ll wake again before morning.”
It was only four in the afternoon here, so I had my doubts that she’d crash out hard enough to sleep for the next fourteen hours straight. It was far more likely she’d be wide awake and ready to play in the middle of the night.
“Might be a better idea to wake her around dinnertime. She’ll be cranky, but we need to get her adjusted to the time change.”
Sighing, he climbed onto the mattress, settling in beside me. “Yeah, you’re probably right, but I’d rather be held captive and subjected to enemy torture than see any of my girls upset.”
I blinked at him. “Has that ever happened before?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah, once or twice.”
“And you’ve been shot too?” I pressed, recalling the mention of such an event during our conversations while I was in the hospital.
Matteo grunted in the affirmative, lifting his shirt to showcase the scar just below his ribcage on his left flank. It wasn’t any wonder I hadn’t noticed the marks scattered across his smooth olive skin before now, considering we hadn’t exactly found ourselves naked during daylight hours.
Time and time again, he’d tried to impress upon me how dangerous it was to tie my life to his. But seeing the puckered star of scar tissue where a freaking bullet had entered his body was what really drove that point home.
My fingertip traced that old wound. “I don’t like this.”
With a firm grasp around my wrist, Matteo brought my hand to his mouth, where he dusted kisses over the pad of each finger. “It’s best not to think about it.”
Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “Easier said than done when a permanent reminder has been left behind.”
“I have something I want to give you.” He skillfully changed the subject.
“You do?”
“Mm-hmm.” Reaching into his pocket, he produced a velvet box. When he cracked it open, the contents were revealed, and my heart rate kicked into high gear.
Nestled against the satin pillow was a blindingly brilliant engagement ring. The main stone was a massive, circular diamond, surrounded by a dozen or more smaller ones to create the appearance of a sunburst.
A trembling hand came up to cover my mouth. “Th-that’s for me?”
Matteo plucked the ring from the box. “We didn’t really get a chance to do this properly. Summer Reynolds”—I sucked in a sharp breath, teetering on the line between my old life and the new one he offered—“will you marry me?”
Stunned speechless, I only managed a weak nod, my vision swimming with unshed tears.
With his free hand, he gripped my chin. “I need to hear you say the words, bella . Because once we do this, there’s no going back.”
“Y-yes,” I stammered.
A grin tipped up on his lips as he slid that giant rock onto my left hand. “Right answer.”
Oh wow. It was heavier than I expected.
Marveling at the glittering diamonds as they caught the light, I mused, “This is too much.”
If I had to guess, this single piece of jewelry cost Matteo as much as a brand-new car. Likely more.
Matteo’s lips found my neck, and the vibration of his chuckle buzzed against my skin. “I’m going to enjoy spoiling you.”
My head dropped back on a groan. “I’m not with you for your money.”
“Don’t I know it.” A path of kisses trailed higher toward my ear. “There aren’t many people on this planet who would outright refuse to accept the get out of jail free card I offered you.”
“Yes, well.” My huff transitioned into a moan as he tugged on my earlobe with his teeth. “Most people are willing to sacrifice their pride for a price. I can’t be bought.”
“Maybe not,” he agreed. “But I’ll have fun trying.”
“Matteo,” I breathed out his name when he sucked on a sensitive spot, my hand flying up to tangle in his hair.
“Oh, and one more thing.”
I practically whimpered when he pulled away to meet my eye.
“Never. And I mean never take this off.” His thumb brushed over the diamond.
My brows drew down at his request. “I’ll have to when I do things like bathe the girls, or—”
“No.” Voice firm, he cut me off. “Never, Summer. I need you to promise me.”
There was something lurking in those dark chocolate depths, something that almost looked like fear.
“O-okay. I won’t take it off. Promise.”
All the air left his lungs in a rush. “Good. Now, when can we make this official? I have a fully vetted priest on standby.”
A sound of pure disbelief escaped past my lips. “Uh . . . I’m not Catholic.”
Matteo waved a dismissive hand. “I’m paying him enough to pretend that you are.”
Why did that not at all surprise me?
“We haven’t even talked to Bianca about any of this.”
“She’s going to be thrilled. She loves you.”
My fingers plucked at the bandages covering my left leg from mid-calf to mid-thigh. “Is it too much to ask that I be able to walk down the aisle?”
“I can—”
“By myself,” I clarified.
“All right. Once you’re back on your feet,” he agreed. Then a mischievous sparkle twinkled in his eyes. “You know . . . I did some research on burn recovery. And you know what I learned?”
I had no clue where he was going with this. “What?”
“That increased blood flow helps promote healing. And do you know what increases blood flow?”
“Uh . . .”
“Orgasms.” He began to inch up the hem of my dress.
My eyes widened. “Matteo, I don’t think—”