10. Mia #3
His lips ghost over mine before softly kissing me again. “Forgive me for not telling you, mia vipera, but please don’t doubt how much this meant to me or how much I loved every second of it.”
Dario is impossible to stay mad at, and that might be the most frustrating realization of all. He must be able to read this on my face as well, because he gives me a wink before kissing the tip of my nose.
“You’re going to be begging me to let you keep my ring on your finger when this is all over,” he says, and I bark out a laugh right in his smugly grinning face.
“That’s never going to happen.” I hold up my hand, looking at the large diamond that still feels so foreign on my finger. The sun makes it sparkle, and there’s no denying it’s gorgeous, but it’s not me . It’s nothing I would ever choose to wear.
Undeterred, he just gives me another wink and says, “We’ll see.”
Sandro comes walking around the side of the house before I can push his brother over the cliff behind us. When I dart my eyes to the steep drop off, Dario gives a soft laugh before lifting me off the stone wall and setting me back on my feet.
“Don’t plot my death just yet, little viper. We still have a job to do. ”
I give him a sweet smile, one that I imagine a wife would give to her husband and say, “I’ll try my best.”
We turn to Sandro as my brother walks down the path to join us. The first thing out of Sandro’s mouth is, “I heard you two were having some fun out here.”
Dario gives me a pointed look that I pretend to ignore while he says, “I knew Paulo wouldn’t be able to resist spreading the word around. He’s a lot like your Uncle Vitaly when it comes to gossip.”
“He’s a good man to have in a fight,” Sandro adds, “but don’t ever tell him anything you don’t want the entire villa to know about.
” He laughs and shares a look with Dario.
“I learned that the hard way when I lied to Mamma and told her I was too sick to go to Mass so I could stay back and have fun with one of the maids.” His eyes are lit up with amusement when he stares down at me.
“She was not pleased, and she forced me to immediately go to confession.”
I can’t help but laugh at Sandro’s story. He’s as laid-back as his brother is intense, and I could use some of his easygoing mirth right now. “How old were you?” I ask him.
I’m expecting him to say it was something that happened when he was a teenager, so when he says, “Twenty-five,” I laugh even harder and point my finger at him.
“I had no idea you were such a mama’s boy, Sandro.”
Dario laughs while Sandro looks back at the house like he’s afraid their mom might be hiding in the bushes and listening. “Don’t be fooled by her small stature,” he says. “She’s a lot like you—tiny but ferocious. I fear her more than I do our dad.”
“He’d love to hear you say that,” Dario says.
“Don’t you dare tell him,” Sandro says. “You keep your mouth shut, and I’ll help steer away all conversations about birthing hips and babies.”
“Deal,” I quickly say, making the agreement on Dario’s behalf. I look up and meet the dark look he’s giving me. “What?” I ask. “It was a good deal. ”
“Does that path lead to the beach?” Sasha’s question pulls our attention back to the amazing view around us.
“It does,” Dario says. “It’s private, and everyone knows to stay away from our property, but if you want to go for a swim, let someone know. With everything that’s going on, we’re taking extra precautions.”
I tilt my head, trying to see down the path, already planning to sneak down there for a swim the first chance I get.
“I’m serious, streghetta mia . If you want to go somewhere or see something, you let me know first,” Dario says, fully back to the intense, broody mood I’ve grown used to over the years.
“Am I allowed to pee whenever I want, or do I need to ask you for permission for that too?” I ask.
His jaw tenses at my tone. I hear Sandro’s snort of a laugh, but I don’t look away from my pretend husband.
“I’d prefer it if you asked me for permission,” he says.
I pat his chest and give him a very condescending smile. “That’s never going to fucking happen.”
He grabs my hand, the one that’s still patting his hard-as-a-rock chest and tells Sandro and Sasha, “I’m going to show her our room.” He adds something in Italian for Sandro while I tell my brother in Russian, “I might very well kill him and ruin the mission.”
Sasha gives me a half-grin. “No, you won’t. You’re going to end up marrying him for real.”
My jaw drops at his announcement, grateful that at least Dario won’t understand a word of it.
“Why would you say that?” I ask him.
He just shrugs and says, “I notice details.”
I want to ask him what details he’s talking about, but he’s already grabbing his phone and sending a text to check on Chort.
He doesn’t often show emotion, but I can tell he’s worried about his dog.
Our dad agreed to look after him, but the only human that dog likes is standing right in front of me.
“He’ll be okay,” I tell him. “He’s seen Dad enough times to recognize him, and you left the kind of detailed instructions that Nat leaves when someone babysits her kids.”
Sasha lifts his eyes from his phone to say, “Chort doesn’t like change. I don’t want him to be scared.”
I smile and give my brother a side hug. “And people say you’re a psychopath.”
“You and I both know I’ve never been officially diagnosed with anything.” He turns his attention back to his phone. “I don’t like labels.”
I don’t bother stating the obvious. Getting a diagnosis for my brother was never on the table. The kind of honesty that would require would see everyone in our family in prison and Sasha locked away for the rest of his life. Our way is better.
“Come on, sweetheart,” Dario says, leading me back up a stone path to the veranda along the back of the house. His fingers lace with mine, and I’m noticing that more and more these little intimate moments are starting to feel natural instead of the forced pretense they’re supposed to be.
I try not to act stunned by the house when we walk in, but it’s impossible not to.
The arched doors and vaulted ceilings make me feel even smaller than usual, and the dark wood furniture is just as imposing.
This is a home that’s designed to stun and immediately put you in your place as soon as you cross the threshold.
It’s gorgeous, there’s no denying that, but it’s not a place I’d ever walk into and feel completely at ease in either.
I’m more of a comfy sort of person, and I highly doubt I’m going to be plopping down onto their couch and putting my feet up anytime soon.
As Dario leads me down a long hallway, his expensive shoes marking the cadence of his steps on the terracotta floors, we pass a few people, some of them look to be maids, and some are armed guards, but none of them do anything more than give us a quick glance and an obligatory nod of respect.
After we’ve gone up two flights of stairs and I’m completely turned around and lost, we stop in front of a large set of wooden doors with ornate wrought iron handles.
Pushing them open, he places his hand on my lower back, leading me into the large bedroom.
I immediately recognize this as Dario’s space.
It’s just as beautiful and ornate as the rest of the house, but it doesn’t have the same museum feel to it.
My shoulders relax as I walk over to a sitting area and sink into a chair by the set of French doors.
The leather is warm from the sun, and I rest my head back and close my eyes, needing a few seconds to wrap my head around everything that’s happened.
“This is your room,” I say, keeping my eyes closed.
“It is.”
I hear his footsteps as he crosses the room, and then the sound of the French doors being opened before a warm breeze hits me. The sweet smell of the flowers mixes with the salty air, creating a scent that makes me wish I could sit in a hammock and stay here for the rest of my life.
Opening my eyes, I look out at the sea view in front me and then turn to the man who’s staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face.
“It’s beautiful here, and your room is my favorite part of the house,” I tell him.
My words earn me a small smile before his eyes flick to the large bed that I’d purposefully avoided giving any attention to.
“I’m glad you like it, streghetta mia, because I’m planning on taking your virginity on that bed.”
I look past him at the four-poster bed. It’s all dark wood and crimson bedding, and when I turn my eyes back to Dario, I say, “I don’t want you to fuck me in the same place you’ve fucked someone else.”
The corner of his mouth lifts up, and I see the amusement in his dark eyes before he says, “Have I told you how much I love your jealous side, piccola vipera ?”
“I’m being serious.”
“And that’s what makes it so goddamn adorable.”
I huff out a breath and turn back to look at the sea, preferring that Italian view instead of the cocky, infuriating one beside me.
I hear the deep, seductive sound of his laugh before he steps closer, kneeling down by my legs and filling my personal space with his body.
I imagine Dario doesn’t get on his knees for just anyone, but I don’t allow myself to be flattered by it.
He’s already going to my head and my heart way too quickly, but when he lowers his head and kisses my thigh, I’m unable to resist him.
My fingers run through his thick, dark hair as he kisses a line up my jeans.
In between his seductive nips and kisses, he says, “You still have no idea what you mean to me, mia vipera .” He stops when he hits my inner thigh, and grabs my hips before burying his head between my legs with a ravenous groan.
Even though I’m fully clothed, he makes me feel naked and completely exposed.