Chapter 25
FABIANA
The sauna was heaven. I was lying on the top bench, one leg stretched out, the other bent lazily over the edge, when the door opened.
Cool air swept over my damp skin. I pushed up to my elbows to see who it was and promptly forgot how to breathe.
Cosimo stood in the doorway, shirtless, nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his waist.
I gawked at him. My gaze drifted over the hard planes of his chest, the ridges of his stomach, and the sharp V of muscle disappearing beneath the towel.
The crown of thorns wrapped around the base of his throat was only the beginning of a dense network of dark ink that splayed over his golden skin.
The tattoos wrapped around his torso and climbed over one shoulder and down his arm.
My mouth went dry. It was one thing to feel that body press against me in the tiny storage closet that I returned to in my dreams. It was another to see it in all its naked glory.
When I finally managed to lift my eyes to his face, his brows were drawn together, annoyance dancing inside his gaze.
“Out, Nettle.”
There was a version of me that would’ve scrambled to leave, that would’ve accepted his tone at face value, but that version of me wasn’t around anymore.
She’d vanished when he trusted me with his secret at the wedding, when he’d kissed me at the altar like he’d forgotten the entire church was watching.
So I didn’t quite believe the annoyed veneer anymore. Not when there was something tense beneath it. Something strained. Almost wary.
My heart pounded as I shook my head. “I was here first.”
His jaw tightened. I readied for an argument. Cosimo Ferraro didn’t strike me as a man who gave up territory easily, especially not in his own house. He hovered on the threshold, his hand on the door handle, and without meaning to, I let my gaze drift down again.
Three years. He hadn’t slept with anyone for three years. I didn’t think men like him—young, fit, virile—dealt well with that kind of thing. How did he manage?
Maybe he takes good care of himself.
Another rush of cooler air slipped inside, brushing over my burning cheeks. “You’re letting out all the heat.”
His eyes narrowed. He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “It’s big enough for the two of us.”
It was big enough for ten, but it sure didn’t feel that way as he crossed the sauna and sat on the same upper bench as me. Not beside my feet where there was a lot more space, but near my head. Close enough that if I turned slightly, the top of my head would brush his thigh.
“Seriously? There’s plenty of room.”
“This is my spot. You’re welcome to move.”
“And this is mine.”
“You’ve been coming here often enough to have a spot?”
“Every day.” I closed my eyes, because the view of his boulder-like shoulder and the cord of muscle running up the side of his neck was enough to make my pulse race in an unhealthy way.
“You didn’t mention you liked saunas when we’d talked before the wedding.”
“I didn’t, until I was forced to live in Arctic conditions.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the temperature in this mausoleum of a house. I have to write over two hundred thank-you notes for the gifts from the wedding. A quarter in, my fingers were turning blue and my teeth were chattering.”
“You couldn’t put on a sweater?”
“I put on two. And wrapped myself in a blanket.” I cracked one eye open, immediately regretted the view of his bare chest, and closed it again. “What’s the deal? Are you trying to save on your heating bill? Having financial problems? I’m starting to think you married me because of my trust fund.”
A quiet huff of amusement left him. “The cold keeps me sharp.”
“You’re barely even home. Why should the rest of us have to suffer while you’re not even here?”
“The rest of us?”
“I discussed it with the staff. They all agree and will back me.”
“They’ve never complained. You show up, and less than a week in, you’re already organizing a rebellion?”
“I can only go to so many pottery classes, Cosimo. Not much else to do here besides organize rebellions.”
He didn’t answer. Silence stretched between us, thick and engulfing. I forced myself to focus on my breathing, but every time he adjusted his position, I caught a whiff of his dizzying scent.
My breasts tightened.
“You’ve been ignoring me since the wedding,” I said.
“Miss me, Nettle?”
My cheeks heated. “I just thought that after we married, you’d parade me around town to remind everyone about the alliance.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Hmm.”
More silence. I eyed the clock on the wall. I’d been here for over twenty minutes. Soon, it would be time to leave, but I wasn’t ready yet.
“All these secrets you keep. Doesn’t it get lonely?” The heat was making me reckless.
“I’m used to it.”
“I never could get used to it.”
“When did you have to keep a secret?”
“The whole time I was abroad. I couldn’t tell anyone my real last name.
Not a word about my family. The older I got, the more it weighed on me.
I didn’t know how to connect with others while lying to them about who I was.
On Friday nights, when everyone met up with their friends on the banks of the river to catch up on their week, I’d walk by them and realize I had no one to call. ”
“Your sister?”
“Elena was always traveling. And my coworkers… We probably could’ve been close, but if they’d known who I was from the start, they would have stayed the hell away from me. I didn’t want to dupe anyone into being my friend.”
“None of us show our full selves to others. We’re all always hiding something. And often, it’s a hell of a lot worse than your last name.” He shifted again. “You’re too hard on yourself.”
I opened my eyes. He was close enough for me to count the drops of sweat sliding down his arm.
“So are you.”
“Am I?”
“Freezing house. Hostile furniture. I get wanting to stay sharp, but it’s okay to have one place where you can let go. Be comfortable.”
“I did have one place. Until you invaded it,” he grumbled.
My lips twitched. “You could be comfortable in your whole house, not just these twenty square feet. You know, it won’t kill you to throw down a rug in the living room.”
He looked straight down at me. “Get one then.”
I held his gaze. “You want me to redecorate?”
“I wouldn’t mind.” A strand of his hair shed a drop of sweat. It landed on my cheek, warm and startling.
“Might remind you of me when I’m gone,” I said, my voice going softer than I wanted it to.
Slowly, he lifted his hand and cupped my entire jaw.
The contact was firm enough to make every nerve in my body pull tightly.
His thumb swept over the drop on my cheek, as if he meant only to wipe it away. But then it moved lower, tracing the corner of my mouth before dragging over my bottom lip.
My lips parted. The tip of his thumb slipped inside, and a swipe of my tongue had me tasting salt and him.
Sparks moved through me, bright and shocking, settling just between my thighs.
“Maybe I wouldn’t mind that either,” he murmured, his palm tightening around my jaw, while his gaze burned.
My damp swimsuit was suddenly too tight and abrasive against my breasts.
I bit down, my teeth scraping against his thumb as he slid it farther.
His eyes had gone so dark they were almost black, and I knew then that if I didn’t stop this right now, chances were that I’d give this man everything he wanted.
Even if it killed me in the end.
I sat up abruptly. I couldn’t. Some women could indulge an explosive attraction for six months and walk away unscathed, but I wasn’t one of them.
“Fine,” I said. “It’ll give me something to do.”
My intention was to get up and leave, but when I glanced his way, I froze.
He was hard, his towel tenting in his lap.
Ohmyfuckinggod.
He sat there, looking utterly unashamed, while I was on the verge of a complete meltdown.
“I do plan to parade you around town. There’s a gala coming up. We’re going.”
“When is it?” I choked out.
“Friday.” He leaned back, and the towel bobbed slightly. “Wear something nice. There’ll be photos.”
I knew I shouldn’t stare, but I couldn’t look away. “It’s really hard to have a conversation with you when that’s in the room with us.”
“Whose fault is that, Fabiana?” Frustration bled into his tone. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you invaded my fucking sauna in that fucking bikini.”
I got off the bench and made it to the ground. “There’s nothing wrong with my bikini. It’s modest by most people’s standards.”
“Nothing modest about the way you look in it.”
My heart pitter-pattered inside my chest beneath his hungry gaze.
“Now get out before you really piss me off,” he growled.
He didn’t need to say it again. I swung open the door, and I ran.