Chapter 33
COSIMO
The heat of the sauna pressed in on me from every angle. I inhaled, bringing the familiar scent of wood, eucalyptus, and pine deep into my lungs. I held the breath for a few seconds before—
The door of the sauna burst open, interrupting my ritual. I was about to snap at whichever staff member had forgotten the rules—that no one was allowed here outside of the maintenance hour—but when I opened my eyes, the words froze on my tongue.
It wasn’t one of the maids. It was my wife. And she appeared to be furious.
“Explain yourself,” Fabiana demanded.
I eyed the winter coat she had on. Why was she wearing that? She couldn’t possibly still be cold in the house. I’d cranked the temperature up after she complained.
Wait. She was supposed to be at pottery class. Her schedule sat printed on my desk, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t due back for at least another thirty minutes.
She’d left early. Come straight home. Hadn’t even taken off her coat before storming in here.
And whatever had put that look on her face was clearly my fault.
Shit.
I had a strong suspicion what this was about. But I wasn’t going to throw myself under the bus on the off chance I was wrong. “I have no idea what you mean,” I drawled.
“What are you doing, Cosimo?”
I looked down at myself. “Sweating.”
“Don’t play dumb. I don’t have the patience for it right now. You’re going to Italy. Tomorrow.”
So she knew. Irritation flickered through me. “Who told you?”
“Mia. Romolo informed her of your plans.”
“Son of a bitch.” Of course he fucking had. The king of secrets appeared to be incapable of keeping any where that girl was concerned.
“You’re unbelievable,” Fabiana said. “You were going to chase down a lead that I got you, and you weren’t even going to tell me about it?”
“I was going to tell you.” I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees. A bead of sweat slid from the tip of my nose and dropped to the bench. “Eventually.”
“When?” She planted her palms on her hips. “After you came back?”
I mean, yeah. That had been the plan before Rom had to go out and ruin it with his big mouth. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” She tore her coat off and dropped it on the floor by the door. “Mia thinks you’re taking me on a honeymoon. And I guess she’s right, because I’m coming with you.”
I shook my head. “You’re not coming.” It was out of the question.
If this Santoro lead panned out, there was a chance things could get dangerous.
Grottaglie might’ve looked like a quaint little Italian village when I looked it up earlier today, but I knew better than to take that at face value.
If the town was connected to the Santoros the way other Italian towns were sometimes connected to dangerous families, I could be walking into a trap.
I could handle myself. But having Fabiana in tow? It just wasn’t worth the risk.
She uncoiled the scarf from around her neck and tossed it toward her coat. “You need me there with you.”
“I’m more than capable of handling the situation on my own.”
She scoffed. “No, you’re not. Goddamn it, Cosimo.
Ceramics is the one thing I actually know better than you!
Us being there on a honeymoon is the perfect cover story.
I can say I’ve dreamt of owning some Quaranta pieces, and so you’ve brought me there to try and find some.
That’s the kind of story that might actually get the artisans and workshop owners to talk to us.
Otherwise, you’re just some random nosy guy asking them invasive questions about one of their important patrons. Why would they tell you anything?”
My jaw firmed. She had a point, but I wasn’t going to risk her safety for a cover story. No way. “I’m the underboss, Fabiana. You think this is my first rodeo? I’ll figure it out.”
“You won’t.” She pushed up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater.
I didn’t know how she was still standing in here in that and a pair of jeans.
I’d cranked up the burner to the max when I came in.
“You’ll come back empty-handed, and by then, it’ll be too late for you to realize that I was right all along. ”
I assessed her. Her eyes burned with determination, and the notch between her brows told me she was digging in for a drawn-out fight.
But the environment was working against her. Her forehead glistened, and drops of sweat were already rolling down her temples.
I eyed the thermometer on the wall. It was over one hundred and eighty degrees. “Let’s talk later. You’re going to overheat.” I’d be on a jet to Italy in less than twenty-four hours. With luck, the next time we spoke would be after I got back.
“Later? I don’t think so. I’m guessing you’re going to try and leave without saying goodbye, and the next time I’ll see you will be after you’ve returned.”
I frowned. When had I become so transparent to her? “This conversation is over.”
“It’s absolutely not.”
Annoyance pulsed inside my chest. Why wouldn’t she just leave it alone?
I reached for the ladle in the water bucket and tossed a scoop onto the stones. It hit with a sharp hiss, and steam surged up to fill the room. The heat bit sharply at my skin.
It was a cheap trick. I was trying to flush her out of here. I heard Fabiana make an annoyed huff, but I couldn’t see her through the thick cloud of steam for a few seconds. When it receded, my gaze narrowed.
“What are you doing?”
She tossed her sweater at me. Then her T-shirt. My gaze dragged over her yellow bra while she glowered at me, all fierce and beautiful, and unbuttoned her jeans. “Regulating my temperature.”
This fucking woman.
My gaze dropped to her hips as she shimmied out of the jeans and kicked them toward the door. She wore matching yellow panties underneath, and the sight of them made me want to pin her beneath me and show her that our mouths could be put to far better use than arguing with each other.
I ignored the rush of blood to my cock and forced myself to focus. “Fabiana, enough.”
She moved toward me, seeming completely undeterred by the sharp edge in my tone. “I’m getting really tired of you making decisions for me.”
“When have I ever made decisions for you?”
“Last night. I didn’t want you to stop. I didn’t ask you to.”
The indignation in her voice caught me off guard. I’d told myself she’d wake up relieved. That by morning, she’d see I’d done her a favor.
Apparently not.
“You really wanted me to fuck you on the floor in the foyer?” I ground out.
“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “That’s exactly what I wanted.”
My teeth clenched.
She had no idea what hearing that did to me.
Or maybe she did. The things I’d so stupidly confessed to her last night must’ve painted her a clear picture. At this point, no amount of sharp words and clipped responses would be enough to disguise the fact that I wanted her too much and too often and in ways that were becoming harder to manage.
“You deserve better than that,” I said, hoping to make her see reason. Hoping that she’d once again be the sensible one.
But all she did was cock a mocking brow. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I don’t want losing my virginity to be something draped in ceremony and put on a pedestal?” She stepped onto the lower bench, putting herself right between my legs. “That maybe I just want to get it over with?”
I tipped my head back, meeting her gaze. “If that’s what you wanted, you could’ve done it long ago.”
She lifted her hand and raked her fingers slowly through my hair. “I wasn’t married then. I am now.” Her fingers traced over the shell of my ear. “Sure, it’s only for six months, but as far as I’m concerned, it counts.”
I watched her with hooded eyes, my body abuzz from her touch. I swear, all she needed to do was breathe in my direction, and I got hard.
She leaned down, giving me a glimpse of her cleavage before she pressed her lips to my ear. “You told me you wanted to make me your wife the way a real husband would. I didn’t take you for a tease.”
A rough laugh tore out of me. I’d never been accused of being a fucking tease before.
“Or maybe you’re just too scared.”
“Careful, Nettle,” I warned. My gaze drifted back to her tits as she straightened back up. I had to clench my fists to keep myself from reaching for her. From pulling her into my lap. “Three years is a long time.”
“Three years? Try a lifetime.”
I tracked a drop of sweat running over her taut stomach before it disappeared at the edge of her panties. “You think it was easy for me to stop last night?”
“Didn’t seem like it was that hard.”
“You won’t be able to take it back.”
“Why do you think I would want to?”
Because once I have you, I won’t want to let you go.
The thought landed like a sharp blow. My gaze lifted back to her eyes, to those emerald pools that were now darkened with desire, and I knew it then.
She wanted to fuck me once. But I wanted to keep her forever.
The asymmetry would be funny if it wasn’t so fucking tragic.
But here was the thing with denying your wants long enough—you got good at it. I’d had over a decade of practice.
Give her what she wants. Then suffer the consequences.
If that was the price I had to pay, I’d pay it.
“Fine,” I bit out even as every instinct for self-preservation screamed at me to stop.
A cocktail of anger, frustration, and arousal churned through me with relentless force.
“You don’t want to make this into a ceremony?
Then get on my fucking lap.” The words came out rough.
It was one final attempt to scare her off.
Instead, she looked at me like she’d just been handed exactly what she wanted.
“Gladly.”
She reached down, unwound the towel from my waist, and spread it open across the bench.
The next thing I knew, she was on top of me.
And just like that, the last of my restraint snapped.