Chapter 22
If You Get Her, You Get Him
Aria Amora
Iwas constantly reminded of my husband’s steady presence in my life, especially after we’d arrived in Lucca and were staying on his father’s vast property.
The meeting with Francesco and family had been postponed until the following year out of respect for Aunt Lola, but like the rest of the world, business would move forward.
All but Uncle Tito, who did nothing but what he had been doing, praying that God would take him home to be with his wife. For a man who saved lives his entire life, it was truly awful to see him beg not to be saved.
Marciano was still staying with him. The bond they shared was strong, and even though Scarlett told me that, after Uncle Tito passed, her son would be all right in time, I knew she and Brando were worried about the emotional toll it was going to take. Or maybe how much it would change him.
I was worried about it all, too, along with the meeting. We’d been at Luca’s walled “city” since the goose incident, and as much as I enjoyed being on the property, it was also a reminder of why we were here.
A Fausti family war was on the horizon.
It seemed to heighten all around us.
Even when we were alone in our bedroom, after we’d make love all night long, sometimes until the sun came up, and my husband’s heart should’ve settled, the way it beat in his chest reminded me of a…battle drum.
I even thought about finding the letters and burning them, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good
One: My husband’s word was as good as his blood, which meant it was true. Even if I burned the letters, his word would be believed that we’d found them. He’d be truthful, down to a comma or period, about what the letters said.
Which led me to reason two: The letters did prove that my great-aunt had been in love with Ricco, not Francesco, and she was going to choose her love no matter what the consequences.
However, what the letters didn’t make clear was who saw her first or who she…
spoke to first and began to make a relationship with first. Those lines were blurred, and it would be easy enough for Francesco’s line to make the claim that Ricco had hypnotized her with his charm.
That was no joke or overstating it. These men were not above the claim, because my husband used those exact words, and he wasn’t joking.
“You’re serious?” I’d asked.
“I am rarely anything else,” he’d said.
He’d begun to make little jokes here and there, but only ones that came out of a true situation, so he wasn’t telling a lie. That was how serious their word was.
I closed my eyes when Rocco stepped up behind me and took me in his arms. First, we rocked for a bit. I was still in a robe and my pajamas, my bare feet on the cool tile floors. I was standing at the sink, doing dishes after our breakfast.
Each of Luca’s sons had a villa on the same street. It was reserved for the king’s sons. The villa was comfortable. It had exposed brick walls, warm wooden beams, rounded archways, wrought-iron details, and even an inside pool—though the villa was more like a comfortable Italian cottage.
I didn’t mind being here, or in the main castello, if Rocco and I were together.
Though…I didn’t think any place would feel like home as much as our winery in Piemonte.
But I knew that, as the next king of the Fausti family, my husband would travel a lot.
We’d always go together, unless life ordered us in different directions.
That was something we had agreed on from the beginning, though.
We couldn’t be without each other, or we didn’t feel whole.
With a touch that whispered, he moved my hair to the side, then set his lips to the pulse in my neck.
My eyes closed, and a breath slipped from my lips.
My hands stilled on the dish I was washing, and after he’d made a mark on me, his hands slid from my waist to my ass, and after such a sensual touch, the roughness of his squeeze made me suck in a breath. I was already wet for him.
After that, it felt like I was flooded.
My husband’s nostril flared. “You smell so sweet to me.” He kissed my pulse, sucking again while he kneaded my cheeks, and when his sensual mouth moved to the top of my spine, I went weak with want.
He swooped me up and carried me back to our bedroom, gently laying me down on the mattress we’d warmed not long ago. His mouth was fierce on mine, and I undressed him, demanding his skin to be against mine. Sometimes I felt like he was the match, and I was the kindling.
I burned for him.
As it always did when we were together, time was lost to me, and after we’d made love for…however long, I felt delirious. My bones felt like jelly, and my eyes could barely stay open. The night before…paired with all the nights before, and that morning…I was spent and felt like a used-up ragdoll.
Rocco ran me a shower, kissing me again, and after I got out, he kissed my neck. “I could not leave you until I knew you were safely out of the shower.”
“Grazie, marito mio,” I whispered. “Now go.” I set a hand on his sculpted chest, intending on pushing him playfully out the door.
But the light from the bathroom window highlighted his sea-green eyes, and I was hypnotized, like when the sun plays over the most stunning water.
Everything about my husband was designed to please a woman.
Me.
I was that woman.
His woman.
For the rest of our lives.
A rush of warmth shot up my chest, and my cheeks heated.
Our eyes were doing that thing again, the thing where we locked in and couldn’t let go.
A knock came at the door.
It was Donato, reminding Rocco that Luca would be waiting.
Right.
Rocco was going to ride dirt bikes with his father and brothers, maybe some of the other men. I noticed how Rocco’s face pulled in when Donato had to remind him of the time. Rocco was always the one reminding everyone else.
I smiled at the thought as he went to walk away. Before he could get too far, I smacked him on his firm ass. He became very still. And when he turned around, I pretended to wring my hand out, like his cheek had hurt me.
“Daaang,” I said. “What do you have in those pants, Fausti, ass cheeks or marble slabs?”
The grin on my husband’s face came slow, and when he stepped up to me, I took a step back. He looked like he was taking a mental screenshot for later—all the things he was going to do to me.
We stopped when my back hit the wall, and my eyes went up at the same time his came down. “My wife has jokes,” he said, setting one arm on each side of my head. “Let us see how funny she will be later, when my tongue is between her legs and I am devouring her.”
I was breathless as he left, and a beat too late, I shouted, “Promise me that’ll happen!” His echoing laughter made goosebumps rise on my arms, and the room was still warm from my shower.
After he’d left and I could focus, though half of my mind was always with him, I readied for the day.
The women and I were all meeting up so we could discuss Thanksgiving dinner.
It was one of Maggie Beautiful’s favorite holidays, and she insisted on a big get-together for it in her and Luca’s castello magnifico.
When I’d called it that, she giggled and said I was a trip.
Once all the women met up at Rocco and my place, we began the planning over a lunch that we fixed ourselves.
We each contributed a dish, except for Maggie Beautiful, who mostly sat at the table, drinking wine and telling us what we were doing wrong or right.
At one point, Scarlett rolled her eyes and said to herself, “It’s fine, just sit there,” but then Maggie Beautiful flung a dishrag at her head, and we all started laughing.
After such a heavy lunch, olive oil and wine still lingering on my lips, we all decided to take a walk. It was a city within a city, but probably the safest in the world, with one way in and out, and so much security.
It was a beautiful fall day. Trees were losing a kaleidoscope of colorful leaves. The scent of fires burning and chestnuts roasting drifted from all different directions. Sharp winds carried them, perfuming the air.
“Who do ya’ll think can win in a footrace?” Carmen said out of the blue. “Me or Juliette?”
Scarlett gave them a side-eyed look. “What made you think of that after all that lunch?”
Carmen shrugged. “The other day Juliette was telling me one of her sons showed her a video of people racing on foot, not realizing how ridiculous they looked. She told me she wouldn’t look ridiculous, and then Dario and I had a conversation about who would win in a footrace.”
“Let me get this straight, Carmen Charming.” Maggie Beautiful tapped her bottom lip. “You don’t really want to race Juliette to see who’ll win. You just want to see her technique when running?”
Carmen cracked up. “Well, yeah, I think she needs to put her money where her mouth is.”
Somehow, after that, we all got roped into running at full speed so the group could judge.
By the time we were finished, we all had to stop and take a seat on the side of the street because we were laughing so hard.
It truly was funny to watch other people run at full speed.
Though I think we all voted for Scarlett being the most graceful.
It honestly wasn’t fair, given her career, but it was still fun to watch.
Once we caught our breath, Carmen was in the mood to keep going. She challenged Juliette to a sprint, to see who was faster.
Juliette gave Carmen her hand, and Carmen helped lift her from the ground. “Challenge accepted!” she said, wiping sweat from her brow. “We’ll race toward my villa, then I’m ditching you all for a bit. That was a lot of food, and lately…my stomach hasn’t been doing so well with dairy.”
Scarlett told her she had so many dairy-free recipes, and Carmen said she was going to make a note for the exchange when we all met up to prep for Thanksgiving dinner.