Chapter Nine
By the time they returned to the penthouse, Renzo’s mood grew darker. With a softly whispered “Need a shower,” Mimi disappeared into the bathroom the moment they had stepped inside.
He couldn’t blame her for not wanting to be around him.
His entire family, including his various cousins and their wives, had been out in droves, taking their cue from Chiara, ready and raring to not only judge Mimi but find her wanting. Even the polite ones. Their nod to her had been as the woman who gave birth to the new DiCarlo heir.
In contrast, his wife had been the model of elegance and grace. Never rising to the bait, smiling at a rude, intrusive comment about her pregnancy and even managing a laugh when one of his younger cousins—motivated by temperament and not intention—had asked her about how she leashed Renzo.
His father had curled his upper lip when she’d asked Massimo if he was okay. As if she was some stranger showing greedy curiosity about their family.
Massimo, at least, had the sense to ask her about one of her documentaries.
Mama, realizing how furious Renzo was, had showed her kindness by cutting through rude conversations, asking about Luca and her parents, and offering to babysit whenever they wanted alone time.
Forget alone time with him. He wouldn’t be surprised if Mimi wanted to run away from the lot of them tomorrow morning.
The beautiful skyline flashed in front of his eyes, on and off, as he walked the living room like a caged animal. A wounded one at that.
How dare his sister invite Rosa, of all women? As if Renzo were still a bachelor. As if it didn’t rile him up no end to see the woman who’d discarded him years ago without second glance.
What the hell had his sister thought to achieve?
He had done so much for them—for Papa and Chiara and Massimo—and never complained about it. He had had to grow up faster than any of them, make hard decisions for their family, take on the mantle of the family finances.
He had always been so proud of being the one who saved his family, who restored the respect and might to the DiCarlo name again.
Somewhere along the line, it had become his identity, his ego.
And yet suddenly, it felt too heavy to carry—built of others’ expectations of him, of his own ambition and achievements—but also empty.
As if he had built his castle on sinking sand.
Cristo, but he missed his older brother like a hole in his chest. Santo hadn’t wanted anything to do with the flaming hot mess that had been the family’s company or the responsibility of bringing their father to heel. Or to deal with their younger siblings’ privileged problems.
But he had been a steady, calming support behind Renzo as he took on the task of fixing the family’s finances. His marriage to Pia had frustrated Renzo no end, but his brother had loved her. Had been completely loyal to her.
Had that been at the root of his resentment toward her too? That Pia had constantly needed Santo, that she took him away from Renzo and deprived him of the little he had of his brother?
Had his own anger for her been fueled by his own selfish needs?
Because Santo had been the one person who had seen beyond what Renzo could do for him.
Now Renzo wished Santo were here to help him understand the force of his anger. It wasn’t like his family’s shenanigans and poor impulse control were new to him. And yet it had never bothered him this much before.
They tarred Mimi with the same brush as Pia despite his vehement declaration that it wasn’t true. But worse was their lack of consideration for him. Their lack of empathy or understanding for everything he had shouldered not just in the past year but for more than a decade now.
Only Mimi, even at loggerheads with him in the beginning, even as she distrusted him, had understood the rawness of his grief at losing his brother, his friend.
Hands shaking, he poured himself a finger of whiskey and downed it in one gulp. It didn’t soothe him one bit. Which meant he had to leave the penthouse. He didn’t want to be near her when his anger was a cold burn in his body, a sticky coating in his throat.
“Renzo?” Mimi’s tentative tone came from behind him.
Whiskey sloshed over his hand as he poured himself another finger and threw that back too before he turned.
His wife stood framed by the arched doorway, hands clasped in front of her in a nervous gesture that went straight to his heart. But the rest of her…was a feast to his senses.
His erection throbbed painfully at the mere sight of her, and all he wanted was to press her against the wall and bury himself deep inside her. Work his anger and frustration and this shrapnel of hurt out on her luscious body until he could escape it all.
With emerald-green silk shorts and a camisole in the same color draped against her curves, she looked…
like a delicious meal he wanted to wolf down.
Her face glowed with that freshly scrubbed look.
With her long, wavy hair in a braid, she was eons away from the woman who had been full of elegant grace all evening.
But just as sexy, and only his.
Suddenly, he understood another little nugget at the source of his general resentment.
Something about this woman brought back all the needs and desires he’d conditioned himself to not feel.
Love and affection and companionship and understanding…
all things he’d been determined to not need, he wanted them now.
He grabbed his discarded jacket and held it in front of him. “You need anything?” he said brusquely.
Her gaze widened. “Don’t tell me you have investor meetings at this time of the night?”
“I don’t.”
Her arms went around her midriff, and Renzo knew that she was bracing herself against him. “Did I say or do something wrong? At the party?” She blinked. “I mean, I know I spent too much time chatting with Massimo, but he was helping me remember all your cousins, and he’s easy to talk to once you—”
Renzo cut her off. “He was good to you, then?”
“What? Yes, of course,” she said, looking shocked. “He’s no worse than any privileged young man, Renzo. But he’s not a lost cause. At the risk of interfering in your family matter, I think he got the message this time.”
“It is your family too, bella.”
“Luca’s definitely. Really, Renzo, you can’t expect them all to just like me when we have six years of—”
“You behaved like a decent person.”
“I did. But I have nothing to lose like they do.”
Nothing to lose…was that how she still saw their relationship? Had she no stake in it? Renzo breathed out a rough exhale, feeling as if an invisible hand had punched him. “What the hell do they have to lose?”
Mimi sighed. “I mean, you threatened Chiara right in front of me. And all night, you hovered around me as if you were a mama bird, and—”
“I don’t like that analogy one bit. Not even accurate, because the last thing I feel toward you is maternal.”
She laughed then, and it took everything he had in him to not pounce on her and carry her away to the bedroom like a conquering overlord.
And then he would pillage and plunder her and…
get her to admit that this marriage, their relationship, was important to her.
That it wasn’t a level-headed transaction she could walk away from when the time was up.
“My point is…Massimo told me you haven’t brought a girlfriend to any party or family function in a long time. They’ve not heard of you admiring a woman, even in passing.”
“Because I never wanted to advertise my affairs and embarrass my family like Papa does.”
“Yes. But all they see is you being so protective around me. They all feel threatened. How can you not see it? You hold their fates in your palm, and they think I’ll sway your head.”
“They think you’re like Pia,” he said, brow clearing. “They don’t know that the last thing you would ever want is that kind of power over anyone. The simplest things in life are most important to you.”
Her eyes widened, shimmering with a wild energy.
Undeterred by his dark mood, she kept moving toward him.
Bare shoulders stiff, the end of her braid dancing with her movements, eyes drinking him in.
When she reached him, the scent of her soap and skin replaced the oily anger in his throat instantly.
Releasing him from the coil of frustration and fury.
“Exactly,” she said. “But it will take them time to see that. You can’t just demand that they respect me, Renzo.”
“If I can pay their kids’ private school fees and support their privileged lives, then I can demand that, yes.
” He shook his head. “Plus, you’re the mother of my child.
That should automatically get you their respect.
” He sounded like a grumpy, arrogant, ruthless asshole like she’d called him a long time ago.
She reached him, her folded arms grazing his. “Leave it be, Renzo. At least for tonight.”
His jacket slipped and fell to the floor with a silent hiss, and his breath…suspended in his throat.
Her brown eyes held his, that crystal-clear clarity he found maddeningly arousing simmering there. She said, “I was hoping you’d stay with me tonight.”
“I won’t be good company, cara,” he said, his blood heating at her nearness. “I can’t be…what you need tonight.”
Leaning closer, she rested her chin on his folded arms and looked up at him. “What if we don’t have to talk?”
Renzo’s breath left him in a shuddering exhale.
He snuck his fingers under her hair, circled the fragile arc of her nape and pulled her closer.
That she came without resisting, giving him her weight, made every muscle in him bunch with need.
The lush curves of her breasts pressed against his chest, and he groaned.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mimi.”
She pouted, dragging his gaze to her lips. “You know, you can just say you don’t want to have sex with me. I can take it.”