28. Elio
28
ELIO
I went for my run as soon as I woke up. Dawn was just creeping over the grounds of Casa Nera, the sky tinted purple. I pushed myself harder than usual. At the thirty-minute mark, my brain finally switched off and glorious quiet surged in. I ran for another hour.
The calm started to fade when I got back inside and unlocked the door to my room. The reason for the noise in my head was asleep. I found myself sitting on the bed. She was still wearing my clothes. Giada had messaged me yesterday to inform me that I needed to clothe my new wife before she decided to walk around naked.
Just the thought of Georgia making a point by strolling down the hallway of Casa Nera, packed with De Sanctis men, naked, shattered my temporary calm. Giada had a point. My little hostage was going to need clothes. She was going to need her own room, and she was going to need something to keep her busy.
Yes, she was my hostage, but the undeniable truth I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud was that she was also my wife.
My wife.
Finally, after so long… the universe had corrected its wrong.
It had brought her back to me.
Tiredness pressed into me, like a heavy weight was pushing me down. I was an insomniac, but I was used to being tired. I lived with it. I ignored it, just like I’d ignored the fact the Georgia was out there, living her life, in the same country as me. Just like I ignored the memories of a life I couldn’t forget and would always carry.
I shifted onto the bed beside Georgia. She had always been a sound sleeper. It looked like some things never changed.
God, the bed was comfortable. I hadn’t slept in one in years. Usually, the softness rankled on my nerves, but now, it felt just right.
Just like that, I let go and drifted away.
I woke to the feel of something on my chest. Panic gripped me. Was it a person, a body? Was it debris? My mind scrambled to catch up with the present, and I nearly shot upright, and only just caught myself when the object on my chest gave a small snuffling snore.
A snore?
I glanced down. Georgia’s head was on my chest. She’d migrated over to where I lay, and she was sound asleep on me. Her leg was slung over mine. My heart pounded. After years of being in peak physical condition, I was developing high blood pressure after only a few days of sharing my room with this woman.
She sighed and moved against me, burrowing her face deeper into my chest.
The smell of her hair and my shampoo drifted to me. I couldn’t stop myself from running my fingers through it. My fingers caught on a tug at the end of the long length, and Georgia let out a small moan. Just like that, I knew I’d be hard all day.
So, she still liked having her hair pulled.
I had to wake her. This couldn’t continue. This was dipping my hand right into the poison and expecting not to get infected.
“Georgia, wake up,” I murmured gruffly.
My arm had crept around her back, and now, I squeezed.
She shifted against me, fighting my urge to wake her.
“Come on, topolina .” There better not have been a note of begging to my tone.
I shook her lightly, and her eyes drifted open. They were hazy and unfocused, her gaze roaming upward until it hit my face. Her eyes latched onto mine, and I could tell she was still more asleep than awake.
A smile broke out over her face.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
An expression of pure relief and happiness.
“Elio,” she whispered, her voice deep and husky with sleep. She was still there, drifting in the ether. “ Dove sei stato?” Where have you been?
That look in her eyes… no one had ever looked at me like this woman had, a lifetime ago. No one could ever look at me that way again, because I wasn’t the sort of man who could inspire such a look anymore…
Except from her.
I smoothed her hair back, locked in this stolen moment just a little longer.
“ Sono qui.” I’m here. “ Sono sempre stato qui .” I’ve always been here.
Her smile deepened. Sunlight hit her from behind, casting a golden halo around her dark waves.
Outside, far below the house, a loud bang sounded, probably deliveries stopping by the kitchen. The noise shattered the precious glass that had encased us in a memory.
Georgia’s hazy expression snapped into focus, and she jerked back, sitting up and pushing me away.
“What’s going on?” She glanced wildly around.
“What’s going on is that you still snore.” I pushed off the bed and stood. “Get ready, we’re going out.”
“We are?” She jumped up. Her sleepiness had dissolved into excitement.
“You act like you’ve been locked up for years. It’s been a day.”
“Whatever. I need fresh air every day,” she said.
“You lived in LA,” I reminded her.
She rolled her eyes, but her excitement remained palpable. “Right, that’s true. Anyway, I would love to leave this room, if my lord and master allows it.”
I didn’t trust myself to respond to that particular title so ignored her.
After a shower, I found her waiting at the door for me.
“You’re dressed?” I eyed the outfit I’d given her days before.
“Yes, I don’t have anything else, and I have it on good authority that it stinks, literally.” Her cheeks tinted pink at the admission. Was she really embarrassed to smell a little like old sweat around me? She had no idea how sweet she smelled. There was nothing about her body that wasn’t a turn-on.
“I’ll make sure to stay downwind.” I reached for her wrist.
“What the hell?” she exploded as I slapped a metal cuff on her and then clicked the other end onto my wrist.
“I can’t have you running off when we’re outside Casa Nera.”
“So, you’ve handcuffed us together?”
I just nodded and took her arm, steering her out into the hallway.
“That’s right. Where you go, I go.”
“Lucky me,” she said.
Atlantic City might not be LA, but there were enough high-end boutiques to keep even the pickiest of shoppers happy.
I walked into the first one we came to, my arm tucked around Georgia’s, hiding our bound hands.
Assistants dressed in black with sleek headpieces fluttered toward us.
“We need women’s clothes. A full wardrobe,” I told them when Georgia failed to step in. “Pick things out,” I instructed her.
She drifted toward a clothing rack, taking me with her. She moved some coat hangers, and her eyes widened.
“This stuff is expensive.”
“Is it?” I checked my phone for any work-related messages.
Georgia wandered here and there, and I followed, her arm tightly gripped in my hand.
“Surely there’s something in here you like?” I asked, my patience for shopping rapidly dwindling.
“Yeah, of course there is, but I’m not about to spend five hundred dollars on a shirt,” she said, gripping the collar of the shirt in question. “It’s not even sewn that well.”
“Stop looking at prices and choose things. I don’t have all day,” I snapped at her.
“Sorry for caring if you waste your money,” she snapped back at me.
She took a step away, and I tugged her back, just hard enough that she fell into my chest. I wrapped my other arm around her back and guided her against the railing just behind her.
“I’ve told you often enough that I’m not the Elio you used to know. I’m not some penniless hustler anymore… My time is more valuable than anything in this store.”
She huffed.
“Roll your eyes at me right now, and I’ll take you into a changing room and fuck your smart little mouth.”
Her shocked eyes flew to mine. Where the fuck had that come from? Shit. The ability to hold back from all the things I wanted to do to her was crumbling.
Her cheeks warmed, turning a pretty pink. Her eyes slid from mine.
“Right. Like you’d dare do that here… and besides, I’d bite it right off.”
“I’m sure. Let’s not test that theory. Get a move on, or I’ll choose whatever I want you to wear.” Just the thought of picking out the sexiest clothes from the store and forcing Georgia to wear them around me was a fucking turn-on. It was only ruined by the fact that if anyone else saw her in them, I’d have to carve their eyes out. I just didn’t have the manpower to go through them in those quantities.
“Big talk, Santori,” she blustered, pushing me back.
I let her go. She was fully blushing now. My topolina was unsettled. That wasn’t like her at all. I enjoyed every moment of her loss of composure. Considering how she was driving me slowly insane, it was only fair.
She started to hang things on the rack the assistants had left for her. When she was done, we headed toward the changing rooms.
The assistant hung the clothes inside and then held the heavy velvet curtain back for Georgia.
She hesitated, looking to me. I took hold of the curtain and stepped into the changing space, pulling Georgia with me.
“I’ll take it from here,” I told the shocked assistant.
“We — actually, we have a one-person-per-room policy,” the assistant stammered.
“But you’re making an exception for us,” I told her firmly and shut the curtain in her face.
Georgia stepped back, and our bound wrists pulled taut.
“What now? She’s going to think we’re hooking up in here,” she hissed.
“You’re handcuffed to the man who forced you to marry him, and that’s what you’re worried about?”
“Well, I can’t try things on with one hand,” she said.
I conceded that, undoing the handcuffs around our wrists and tucking them in my pocket.
“I’ll be right outside. There are no other exits, and I am armed.”
“Of course you are, Mr. Mercenary.” She turned around to yank a black jumper from a hanger.
I eyed the clothes on the rack.
“Everything is black… trying to tell me something?”
“Just dressing for my mood.” She shot me a faux sweet smile and started to unbutton the shirt she’d borrowed from me. “We can match.” She looked me up and down. She had a good point.
“Well, are you going to give me some privacy?”
I stepped out of the curtained changing room and settled onto the settee right outside. An assistant hovered near my side. Georgia in black didn’t seem right. When she’d made her own dresses, they were all bright colors and patterns. My memories of her were all lemons and cherries in the dappled sun.
I waved a hand at the rest of the shop. “Can you guess her size from the things she took to try on?”
The assistant nodded eagerly. “Yes, of course. Is there something else you’d like her to try on?”
“No, she doesn’t need to try it.” I reached for the folded business paper sitting beside the couch. The store clearly knew their clientele. “Just ring it up and give it to my driver outside.”
The assistant paused. “Er, which items?”
I waved a dismissive hand around. “All of it.”
“All of it? All of what, sir?”
“The shop, what else?” I asked, growing annoyed with the continued questions.
The assistant backed away excitedly, just as the curtain twitched.
“Well, aren’t you coming out to let me see?” I drawled.
Georgia peeked around the side. “Do I have to?”
I hadn’t had any such intentions, but the clear reluctance on her face convinced me.
“Yes, of course. Get your ass out here now for inspection,” I snapped.
She sighed. “This isn’t the military, you know.” Despite her acidic tone, she stepped out.
My brain short-circuited for a second. Sure, it was black, but by God, she was stunning. I’d had her swathed in my huge clothes this past few days. Now, there was no denying her hourglass shape. She was in a black clingy dress, some off-the-shoulder, tight-at-the-knee thing. Sophia Loren would have been envious.
“Well?” she demanded.
I stared. And stared.
“Hello?” She waved a hand in front of my face.
“You’re lucky this isn’t the military. You wouldn’t last an hour without your CO coming down hard on your ass for attitude.” I had to get a fucking grip.
“Yeah, well, just keep your fantasies of coming on my ass to yourself,” she quipped and then jerked her eyes to mine in the mirror. She looked horrified at her own phrasing.
A laugh left me, unbidden and surprising. Like a rusted lock turning, warmth filled my chest. What was happening to me?
I found myself teasing her back. “Why would I do that and deny you so?”
She tore her eyes away from mine and took in her reflection. I could make out her ruby-red cheeks from here.
“Well, do I pass inspection?” she demanded hotly after a long moment of bearing my scrutiny.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from the way the dress hugged her long legs.
I nodded and picked up the paper.
“Hmm, your ass is safe… for now.”
I focused my attention back on the page. She huffed and went back into the changing room.
I’d like to say I ended the little game right there, but I didn’t.
I made her show me every single outfit. All unrelentingly black, all hot as the fires of the inferno.
While Georgia stood staring critically at a pair of leather pants that personally I considered award-winning on her, the assistant from before sidled up to me.
“That’s everything charged, wrapped, and sent to the car,” she said with a warm smile.
Her eyes flew to my hand, and it didn’t take a genius to see how she searched for a ring. I still didn’t have one. A fact that would have to be remedied.
“Thank you.” I nodded dismissively at her.
She didn’t go, however. She lingered. I cast an irritated glance in her direction.
“Your girlfriend is a lucky woman to have a shopping spree with a man like you,” the assistant continued.
A man like you? I wondered if she meant the killer part, or the mafioso, or the PTSD war veteran.
“You mean rich?” I proposed instead.
She tittered, covering her mouth in a way that she seemed to find demure.
“No, I mean, well, honestly, look at you. Money and good looks… your girlfriend has all the luck.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” I announced, casual, and turned the page of the newspaper.
Georgia swiveled from the mirror, my words catching her attention.
“She’s not?” the assistant asked, her voice breathy and smile hopeful.
“No,” I answered coolly. My eyes flickered to Georgia’s. “She’s my wife.”
Silence met that statement, and there was a flicker of something that passed over Georgia’s lips. Like the ghost of a smile. I couldn’t turn away.
“Oh, well, she’s even luckier then,” the assistant rushed out.
“Hmm, tell her that,” I drawled and set the paper down. “ Cara , if you’re finished, I think we should go.”
Georgia’s eyes widened at the nickname, but she nodded and cast a curious glance at the assistant as she ducked into the changing room again.
“I apologize, that was inappropriate. I don’t know what came over me.”
She was standing too fucking close. I stood and set down the paper. Then I took a few steps back from the unwelcome interruption.
“No need to apologize,” I told her, firm.
Her face softened, and she drifted closer.
“No need to apologize because I don’t care. I don’t care about anyone except her.” The words left me unexpectedly and immediately, I knew them to be true. Two days into this unwanted arranged marriage, and I was losing my head.
Two days in, and I didn’t care.