Chapter 21
KARINA
As soon as Marco is up and about again, he moves his things back into our bedroom. It feels like a fresh start for us, and I’m more than ready for it. Almost losing him…it shook something inside of me. Inside both of us, I think.
But it settled something inside of me, too.
It had been so easy to let my hurt and anger outweigh the tender emotions I felt for my husband. The hope and the want and the love—the depth of it scared me. I didn’t want to make myself even more vulnerable to him.
Which is why, instead of just sitting Marco down to talk and figure out what the two of us needed to do to make things right again, I was so quick to turn away.
I let the sting of betrayal and the bitterness of resentment rule my actions.
I built that wall between us as an act of self-defense.
A lifetime of neglect and abuse will do that to you.
But now I know better. I know that we can be better.
Because we trust each other, and we have faith in the strength of our bond.
In hindsight, I wish it hadn’t taken an act of violence for me to admit that I truly want to be with him. For always.
“There, what do you think?”
He steps back from the bed and gestures at his handiwork. I pause from rearranging the clothes in the closet to look. There’s a teddy bear nestled between our pillows, a dignified little thing wearing a top hat, a shirt and vest, and button-front trousers with little boots.
I can’t help laughing as I go to the bed and scoop the bear up. “Where did this little guy come from?”
Marco shrugs, seeming almost bashful. “I got it weeks ago, but it never seemed like the right time to give it to you. It’s supposed to be Mr. Darcy—I Googled Jane Austen teddy bear, thinking it might put a smile on your face. Forgot I had it stashed under the bed. You like it?”
“He’s adorable. That was so thoughtful. And so cheesy,” I tease.
He shrugs one strong shoulder. “Yeah, well, I happen to know that women love cheese.”
“We do. We really do. And this is the cheesiest.”
After giving Mr. Darcy a kiss on the nose, I set him next to my pile of books on the nightstand and then wrap my arms around Marco.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“You really like it?”
Looking up at Marco, I smile. “I love him. Really. You did good.”
He smiles back and dips his head down to kiss me—and I so want him to—but a knock on the door interrupts us.
“Better go see who that is,” I tell him. “That knock sounded very official.”
I finish hanging up my things, the sound of Marco’s voice in the background. Once the door closes, I feel his arms loop around me from behind, his lips pressing against my neck.
“Grab a sweater and some comfy shoes,” Marco says.
This tugs at my curiosity. “Are we going somewhere? I thought you had that doctor’s appointment after breakfast.”
“We are, and I do. But I’ve arranged a little something for when we get back. I just got word that they’re getting everything ready.”
Oh, I like the sound of that.
He kisses me, soft and sweet, and then we head down the hall to eat.
It turns out that Dante and Frankie are having breakfast in bed, so it’s just me, Marco, and Armani, who mostly keeps himself occupied with his newspaper.
After my altercation with Armani in the hospital courtyard, I’ve been more or less avoiding the middle Bellanti brother, but today I barely notice his presence.
Sitting as close to Marco as I can, I take comfort in my husband’s nearness.
As we enjoy an Italian-style breakfast of ciambellone and apple cake and a generous spread of cold cuts and soft-boiled eggs, the brothers make small talk, which I don’t pay much attention to.
Anxious to have Marco to myself again, I eat as fast as I can, trying to not look like I’m inhaling my food, then put my napkin on my plate and lean back in my chair with my coffee. Marco gives me an amused glance.
“What?” I whisper. “I was hungry. Built up an appetite this morning.”
“Clearly.”
He squeezes my knee and winks. The gesture floods me with desire, heat instantly pooling in my core. Is it bad that I want to take him straight to our room and give him another workout between the sheets before he goes to the doctor?
He leans closer to me with a knowing look. “We can be late for my appointment.”
The newspaper crinkles harshly across the table. Armani slaps it on the table and lets out a long suffering sigh. “I’m sitting right here.”
Marco’s boyish smile does little to placate his brother. “Forgot you were still here, bro.”
Armani raises a brow, not smiling. “Donovan is waiting to take you.” His tone is final. “Your personal security team is standing by as well.”
My husband stiffens but he doesn’t argue. Neither do I. This is Armani, after all. The scary one.
True to Armani’s word, a black SUV with tinted windows is parked out front when we step outside the door.
Both Viking and another huge guard are waiting for us, and Donovan appears to be wearing a bulletproof vest. He flashes his usual warm smile at me, as if this level of precaution is nothing out of the ordinary, but it doesn’t stop the nerves that are making my heart pound.
I have no idea if all of these guards can be trusted, or if we’re going to be followed to the doctor’s office.
We could be under surveillance even now. But I can’t live my life in fear.
I give Marco’s hand a squeeze, hoping to reassure him and myself.
Then he helps me into the car and slips in beside me.
Viking sits on my other side, and the guard whose name I don’t know sits up front with Donovan.
The drive to the hospital feels a little cramped, but the situation gets straight up awkward when the bodyguards hover close during Marco’s appointment.
They ignore the nurse when she tells them to stay in the waiting room, posting up outside the exam room door instead.
Their hulking, black-clad bodies are the last thing I see as the nurse closes the door on me and Marco in a huff.
Minutes later the doctor appears. She seems unruffled, as if she’s accustomed to treating the kinds of patients who bring an armada of guards with them.
She performs an exam on Marco, asks a few questions, and orders another scan of his head just to be safe.
The whole ordeal is a lot less stressful than I’d anticipated, and the doctor puts me at ease when she tells us that Marco is doing great and that we can expect him to be as good as new in no time.
I don’t say it out loud, but all I can think of is that when Jessica took that bullet for Marco, intentionally or not, she probably saved his life. I may have despised her once, but in death, she’s a hero. I owe her my current happiness, and for that, I’ll be forever grateful to her.
Marco’s mood is noticeably lifted on the drive back to the house as well.
Donovan takes the long way around the property and drops us off in an area of the vineyard I don’t recognize, though there is something familiar about it.
As I look around, I feel a slight breeze that brings the heady scent of flowers with it.
The sound of water splashing echoes from somewhere nearby.
“Do you know where we are?”
Threading his fingers through mine, Marco leads me away from the vehicle. Our guards stand nearby, but they don’t follow us.
“It’s familiar…”
“It was dark the last time you were here,” he hints.
The water sound gets louder as we crest a small hill.
On the other side, a beautiful fountain rises from a perfectly manicured patch of garden, water gently spilling into the pool at the bottom.
Putting a hand to my chest, I smile at the memory of our first time here.
The night we’d snuck away from the Bellantis’ party to have a clandestine picnic in the darkened vineyard.
Candi had led me through the vines a different way, and I was guided only by landscaping lights and the moon, so everything looked different then.
A checkered picnic blanket sits on the grass before the fountain with a large wicker basket, a bottle of prosecco sitting in an ice bucket, and tableware neatly laid out for us. There are two plush cushions for sitting and a sun umbrella shading the setup. It’s perfect.
“Marco, this is amazing.”
“I thought we deserved a little quiet time up here after the week we’ve had.”
He guides me to a cushion and promptly fills our wineglasses. The fountain rises gracefully behind us, lulling me into a state of relaxation as the water splashes soothingly.
“I’ve never seen anything like this in a vineyard before,” I say. “Is it Italian marble?”
“Yes. My father had the Statuario marble imported from Carrara. It’s actually a memorial for our mother and sister,” Marco says as he opens the picnic basket. “A local artist carved it.”
“It’s beautiful,” I murmur, my heart breaking at its significance.
He glances at it, his gaze lingering before he returns to the basket. “It is.”
We eat our picnic in comfortable silence.
As usual, Alain has outdone himself preparing the perfect dishes.
Asparagus salad, green and black olives, grilled polenta, stromboli, plus these mouthwatering appetizer toasts with ricotta and prosciutto and honey.
The breeze ruffles Marco’s hair as he looks into the distance and makes slow work of his food.
I’ve never seen him take his time this much to enjoy something, except when we’re in bed.
Almost dying will do that to a person, I suppose.
Make you appreciate a little more what’s right in front of you.
I know I do.
I can’t stop looking at him, studying him, drinking him up. Trying to imprint his image on my brain in case, God forbid, I ever lose him for real.
“What’s wrong?” Marco asks suddenly.
“Nothing. I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
Marco sets his plate down and moves closer so he can take my hand.
“Hey. I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately, but I do know you, Karina. I know how your forehead wrinkles when you’re lost in your own head, the look you get in your eyes when you’re reliving something from your past. Talk to me. Don’t shut yourself off.”
I huff a laugh. I can’t believe he can read me so easily. “I’m just worried about things. Everything that’s happened. Our own issues. The shooting. Livvie. Where do we go from here?”
That’s not exactly what I intended to say, but it’s what comes out of my mouth. And more importantly, it’s the truth.
Marco kisses my forehead and then refills my glass.
“We just take things one day at a time. Try to live our lives as normally as we can—starting with more freedom for you. You deserve to be able to come and go as you please—with guards to keep you safe, obviously—so you can be independent and do what you want to do, and not feel so caged up. I hate the way your family treated you, and I hate that you’ve gotten more of the same from me. ”
“Okay.” I nod. “I like that. Not that I have a million places to go and people to see, but it’s nice to know I’m not forbidden from leaving the property anymore. What else? This isn’t just about me. It’s about us.”
“I know,” Marco says, stroking my palm. “I think we just…we need to talk more. And make an effort to keep open lines of communication. We have to stop hiding things, even if we think it’s for a good reason.
Even if it seems easier to keep the peace by not saying what’s on our minds.
We’re not always going to agree, sure, but I think the silence was killing both of us. ”
“Staying away from you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” I tell him. “I hated it.”
“So did I.” His gaze locks with mine and my chest swells with emotion.
His lips turn down and he sighs. “As for Livvie? All I know is that we won’t stop looking for her.
And Armani is still gathering intel about the shooting, but this is one case where his paranoia about the security team and the guards and the cameras is actually a good thing. ”
“I hope everyone can be together again soon,” I say. “And that we’ll all feel safe again.”
“Yeah. That’s the dream.” Marco sighs again, leaning back to rest on his elbows as he takes in the view.
I move our empty plates into the basket and then snuggle up next to him.
“It’s funny,” he says. “Normally when I need to get away from my family or my crazy life, I get in my car and drive faster and faster until I somehow just…mentally go someplace else. I completely check out. There’s just the road and the engine and my breath, and that’s it.
It doesn’t matter if I’m angry or upset or whatever.
My escape has always been driving. But right now?
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere but with you. ”
He tilts my chin up so we’re looking into each other’s eyes.
“How’s that for good cheese?” he asks.
“I love it.”
Climbing on top of him, I take his mouth with mine. Marco wraps his arms around me and rolls me onto my back, both of us laughing, our smiles warming the kiss even more.
“I have a surprise for you this weekend,” he tells me between kisses.
“Oh really? Is it a sexy surprise?”
“Just you wait, Mrs. Bellanti. Just you wait.”