Chapter 13 From the Ground Up
From the Ground Up
Aria Amora
Ididn’t sleep well at all. I didn’t have an instant connection with the…
estate as a home. Wherever Rocco was would always be home, but this…
estate felt entirely complete without me.
It didn’t need my input, nor did I get the feeling it craved it.
It seemed like an estate that would run with the people who worked here, and it would resent the woman who was looking to put her touch on it, to make it her own with her husband.
The estate was extremely independent, to sum it up.
Then our late-night visitor.
Monique Attigliano, considered one of the most beautiful women in the world, was a surprise, then again, I wasn’t exactly shocked.
My husband had a past. A body count, if you will, and I wasn’t just referring to the ones who got in the way of the Fausti family.
I was speaking of women who probably still dreamed of him long after they walked out his door.
I do not believe I will even see you in dreams any longer.
Yeah, not even meeting in dreams was going to work for me.
My husband would turn dangerous for me in a breath.
His wife would do the same for him. I wouldn’t cut him for his past, even though it wounded me, but…
I had hard limits when it came to what was acceptable in our marriage when it came to other women, just as he had them with me when it came to other men.
I knew who I was in Rocco Piero Fausti’s life, just as he should know, and anything less—I refused to accept. And even though my husband was who he used to be, I trusted Rocco with my entire heart.
Nonna was fond of reciting to me Proverbs 4:23. “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”
It was one that stuck close to my heart.
That was a big reason why I refused to allow any man near it that I didn’t feel had honorable intentions.
I knew my worth and refused to settle for a man who couldn’t recognize it.
I knew with my entire heart that Rocco was that man.
Not only did he recognize it, but he also added to it, just as I would add to his worth as a man by being the woman he needed.
I’d waited too long for him to settle. My husband was, though, beyond my wildest dreams.
And he was all mine.
Even though my eyes were closed, a grin came to my face.
Life was waiting for me, and I was too excited to keep shutting it out.
I slowly opened my eyes, a deep breath from the center of my chest slipping out.
The estate might have not instantly felt like home, but anywhere with Rocco would be.
I’d make it ours…somehow. Even if it was adding a touch of my style here and there.
Even if it was only adding photographs of us from our wedding, his sons and family, and my grandparents.
We’d merge our lives together.
Another silent breath left my chest. I didn’t have a favorite season, per se, but if I did…
summer and fall were my two favorites. Spring could be too chilly and drab for me with all the rain, even though it was the perfect time for a new start.
Winter…winter was too cold, and I struggled the most with feeling lonely during it.
My husband made a manly noise in his throat, and as if he could read my mind, he pulled me closer, like the blankets were not enough, and he’d warm me all throughout winter. I had so much warmth to look forward to.
The grin on my face grew as I stared out the window at the vast view of the property.
The sun was bright, but not bright enough to make me shut my eyes to the glare.
The air here seemed…lighter somehow. Fresher.
Almost oatmeal-colored, while the dark auburns shared a moody touch, the oranges vibrant and popping.
I could even smell it in the air—meat roasting.
Maybe the staff had returned, and one of them was smoking some kind of meat outside.
Rocco had told me he and a few of the men he employed hunted cinghiale.
Wild boar. These dangerous beasts with tusks seemed to be an issue in Tuscany.
Whatever the meat was, it was perfuming the air, and with my husband next to me, his scent in my nose… it almost felt like Christmas morning.
My fingertips danced along his strong arms, and I was almost impatient to see the land again.
That was where I felt a true connection.
Rocco showed me a place where I could try for a garden.
I wasn’t all that great with planted things—my Nonna always said, if I had a green thumb, it would come from Nonno—but I wanted to give it a try again.
Maybe the peace I’d found would translate to the soil, and for once, things around me would grow.
The light shifted, throwing us in dimness, and all the issues we faced seemed to glare at me from the darkness. Free to roam in a place that didn’t seem all mine yet, taunting from the shadows.
Luca and whatever was going on with Maggie Beautiful first and foremost.
That seemed to be the most pressing issue of all, probably because I’d fallen for Maggie Beautiful, and whatever was going on with her felt as if it was sitting on my chest, like a weight that had made it to my heart.
Rocco’s sons had been on my mind too. Especially Massimo and what had gone down with the woman he had fallen in love with. The baby born out of their love who was being raised by Matteo and Stella was a big part of that thought. I turned some and looked at my husband’s sleeping form.
I gently ran my fingertip up his arm, turned some more, and faced him while he was resting.
It was hard to tell if Rocco was truly sleeping or not.
His breaths were coming nice and easy, and I could tell he was relaxed, but…
I could feel it without having to write it out… he was carrying a lot of weight.
He loved his sons and only wanted what was best for them, even if he might’ve gone about things the wrong way with that woman and the sham of a marriage they had—regarding his sons.
If Rocco didn’t love them as much as he did, I would’ve been careful to offer any advice, or to feel as if things couldn’t be resolved between them. In my heart, I knew it could; they just had to find a way back to each other. Not so much Rocco’s younger sons, but his oldest.
As if he could read my mind again, he held me closer, and I gasped for breath, my face landing directly in the crook of his neck. The best place to be. For some reason, his scent was more concentrated there and I was breathing him in.
Heaven. Pure. Heaven.
He shivered a bit, maybe at the cool breaths that were touching his neck, and I sighed, which made him shiver even harder.
The last issue was the issue with the Fausti man from Aria Island—Francesco.
I would’ve never believed a claim could last that long, and between two different people who were only related to the first people to make it, but one thing I’d learned was that these men were full of Fausti blood, and apparently having Fausti blood meant old situations truly never die, unless they kill them.
Whatever existed between my grandmother’s sister—my great-aunt—and his two family members, in their eyes, was very much alive. The look on Rocco’s face at the storage place unnerved me.
It was very much ruthless, but what I felt beneath it was…romance. He thought the situation was romantic. An old situation that would revive itself with current actors.
I sighed, and this time, Rocco shivered and made the noise to go with. He pulled me closer, kissing my neck. “You do not need to be thinking of such heavy things this early in the morning.”
“How do you know I’m thinking of heavy things?” I moaned when his mouth found my throat and he started to suck.
His breath fanned against the area he had started to lavish with attention. “You are mine,” he said, as if that explained his ability to read my mind.
Maybe it did.
“Let them go, Amora. Give them to me. You are much too beautiful to be thinking of anything but being in the bedroom with your husband.”
“It’s not that simple,” I breathed out.
“Sì,” he said, his tone almost final. “It is. If you can’t give them to me, I will make you forget, ah?”
“For a time…” Then my voice drifted as my husband set his mouth over mine, and it seemed like my entire world shifted into his, and the outside world disappeared.
He was deep inside of me, and I needed him there for as long as possible. He was right. Nothing could make me forget like he could, which was both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing because sometimes in life, I knew it was good to forget for a while.
A curse…because sometimes in life, it does a person good to not forget what they’re carrying, or what they’re fighting for.
When I entered reality again, though, it was a softer place. Almost like floating on the most fragrant clouds.
My bladder, though, had other ideas. I went to jump up, but my husband grinned at me, biting my ass cheek before I could make it that far.
He had an advantage. I was still dazed, and he was as fast as a dangerous, sneaky cat.
He was right behind me, and he snaked an enormous arm around me, directing me to the bathroom.
If it wasn’t for his support, I would’ve teetered like I was drunk. We showered together, which had us hot and clinging to each other, and after I lost track of how many orgasms I had, Rocco dried me off, I dried him, and then we both readied for the day.
After I applied a little makeup, my husband watching me like he was transfixed, I curled my hair some, pulling the sides up, allowing my curtain bangs to add shape to my face.
I dressed in a simple cream-colored sweater dress.
Rocco wore a nice shirt and slacks, and after, he led me to the bed, slipping a pair of new brown boots on my feet.