Chapter Eleven
Luca came home the next day while Renzo was out of town.
He had been gone the next morning when she’d woken up in their bed. A scribbled note lay fluttering on the nightstand in his quite illegible scrawl.
Urgent, unavoidable issues at ski resort at the Alps. —R.
Nothing about when he would return or that he would miss her and their son.
Okay, yes, they weren’t teenagers trading secret love notes in the classroom, but still…her foolish heart ached for something more personal.
Especially after the night they had shared, after he had so thoroughly debauched her.
He had been insatiable even at dawn, waking her up to ask her if her mouth was still on offer.
Of course she had whispered yes. What followed had been both revelatory of her own sexual boundaries and how easily she could cross them for him, and how savage her love for him could be.
That session had ended with his powerful body shaking, praising her for her “competence” yet again.
It had nearly crushed her to wake up alone in the large bed. To find her body sore and exhausted in the best way, but to be unable to reach over and kiss him. To be unable to see the man she had fallen in love with, in the bright, fresh light of the morning with this new, keen awareness.
Tears smarting the back of her eyes, she had gotten ready for her day. When she arrived at the clinic, the neonatal specialist had informed her that she could take Luca home immediately.
A cheerful Massimo and their mother had arrived within minutes of her calling.
Mimi knew she could have waited for Renzo to return. But coward that she was, she was trying to escape all the feelings her husband evoked in her by drowning herself in her son.
Or maybe it wasn’t cowardice but stubborn self-preservation. She needed to prove to herself that one passionate night with her husband hadn’t rendered her foolish or incapable of doing what needed to be done. That her mind, her very nature, hadn’t been rewritten by Renzo’s passion for her.
Passion, not love, she reminded herself.
They had been waiting for so long for Luca to come home. Her precious baby boy was the reason she and Renzo were even together.
So she brought him home, aided by Renzo’s mother, his brother, and an army of nurses and nannies that Renzo had already hired.
He had married her precisely because she was no-nonsense, capable and didn’t believe in love. He had shown her immense kindness and comfort and even passion precisely because he expected her to not turn into this…lovesick, maudlin creature.
And really, what was even the guarantee that all these strange new feelings wouldn’t set her up for more heartache? More rejection? And God, she had had enough to last a lifetime at her mom’s hands.
So she would not change herself one bit, she told herself, burying her face into her son’s belly. She would not let this love she felt for her husband make a fool out of her.
If her tears leaked out and she had to change Luca’s onesie, she pretended like they were tears of happiness at his coming home.
Renzo crept into his bedroom on soft feet, moonlight his only aid in the dark room. He felt like a thief sneaking into someone else’s house under the cover of night.
Frustration and anger at himself coiled like twin ropes inside him, driving the breath out of him.
He saw only now that it was the intensity of his feelings for Mimi that had driven him away, causing him to miss his son being discharged from the hospital.
He had been gone for two days, and it felt like two eternities.
His heart scuttled into his throat like a crab on sand as he reached the foot of the large bed.
A soft night-light had been left on his side of the bed, casting an ethereal glow. The sight that greeted him made his heart fall back into his chest with a thud.
Luca was fast asleep, cocooned tightly in a blue blanket, tiny fisted hands thrown above him as if in a cheer. Wisps of jet-black hair fluttered beneath a woolen cap, the jut of his straight nose prominent in his chubby face.
Next to Luca, with the tips of her fingers grazing his belly, as if she couldn’t bear to not touch him, was his wife. Lying on her side, with her head tucked on her folded arm. It struck Renzo that she was just as pure of heart as their son.
Two innocent, bright-as-sun lives that had come into his orbit by sheer chance. Taunting him with the fact that he hadn’t even known he would want this in his life.
Leaning over, he brushed a wavy lock of hair from her face, wishing she would wake. And set those perceptive eyes on him, maybe challenge him as to why he had fled like that. Even help him figure out this confused tangle of emotions within him.
Because he had run away, like a coward.
After using her all night, after slaking his desire on her still-recovering body over and over.
Cristo, he hadn’t expected to lose himself in her like that. Hadn’t expected to find both his salvation and his destruction in her soft smiles, in her hard kisses and her willing, warm body.
But then, he shouldn’t have been surprised that Mimi would be as giving and passionate in bed as she was anywhere else.
Her passion had been a demanding sword and a comforting embrace all at once.
He had been so out of control, so needy that he had even woken her up at dawn, demanding she give him her mouth.
But he refused to regret it. She would hate him if he regretted it because she had met him as an equal. Then he had woken up in the morning, tangled in her arms.
Bright sunlight had streamed into the room, lighting up the dark shadows under her eyes and all the marks he had left on her neck and chest. He had realized then what had disturbed him so about seeing Rosa the previous night.
His real trajectory in life had begun with her rejecting a future with him, rejecting his love.
It had become his identity—to be the provider of all things for the people around him. If he hadn’t stepped up all those years ago and fixed their crumbling finances, none of them would live in the easy luxury they did now.
But in the long slog he’d put in for years, in his refusal to stop even a day for his own rest or recreation, he had become only that—a man who fixed things for others. A man whose only value lay in his wealth, in his power and reach. A man who didn’t want or understand deeper connections.
He was surrounded by people who needed things from him. His beautiful, bright, brave wife had stood out in sharp contrast at that damned party for one very particular reason. A reason that stole the ground from under his feet.
What was it that Mimi needed from him? What could he give her that she would willingly bind herself to him forever?
It had been arrogant of him to assume that he would simply keep her. Because now, he wanted her to want this life with him.
If their frenzied night of lovemaking had clarified one thing, it was that he was falling for her and this little family they were building. And that he didn’t have anything to offer to make her stay.
She had been reluctant about marrying him, had only given in because he’d forced her into understanding the reality of carrying his son. He hadn’t exaggerated.
She and Luca did need his protection. But soon, the media’s interest in them would fade, and the year would be up.
The prospect of letting her go, of learning that there was nothing he could give her to bind her to him when that day dawned…nearly brought him to his knees.
So he had gone away, using the problems with the ski resort as the perfect excuse. To think and strategize and plan, though he was realizing that there was no blueprint for this. All he could do was stall and arrest the complete descent.
Moving slowly, he climbed into the bed on the other side of his son and carefully touched his cheek with the tip of his finger, loath to disturb his sleep. Then he brushed the same finger across her cheek over the top of his son’s head and left it there.
His breath settled for the first time in days. He couldn’t bear to part with either of them for tonight.
Tomorrow, he would keep himself at a distance, until he figured out how to make this ache a little more bearable. Tomorrow, he would ration himself on how much of his wife he could have.
The next evening, Mimi’s steps slowed and she paused in the doorway, letting her gaze sweep slowly over the room. As if she were seeing it for the first time but really bracing herself for the sight that would meet her eyes.
The nursery was a haven of understated elegance—walls painted a soft dove gray accented with white crown molding. A pale blue mobile shaped like delicate Venetian gondolas hung above a polished white crib.
A tufted armchair sat in one corner, beside a bookshelf stocked with colorful storybooks she had started collecting long before Luca’s birth. Warm, honey-colored wood floors gleamed faintly under the glow of a muted table lamp.
Near the large picture window that offered a glimpse of the shimmering Grand Canal, Renzo lay propped on his elbow on the thick wool rug. He had returned late last night, and she had stepped out of the penthouse before he had been awake, sticking to her own work schedule.
He was barefoot, the casual jeans and snug black sweater fitting him with effortless perfection. Two months into their marriage and her heart still stuttered at the sight of him—all that sexy masculinity sprawled around wherever she turned—as if it were all a dream.
His dark hair was slightly tousled, a stark contrast to his usual meticulously groomed appearance.
Luca, wrapped snugly in a soft knit blanket, blinked up at his father with wide, sleepy eyes.
His hands, still so small and fragile, twitched slightly as if testing their strength.
Renzo’s deep voice was a soothing murmur, speaking Italian lullabies that melted the edges of Mimi’s lingering tension.
He had been gone for only two days, and yet in the aftermath of bringing Luca home, she had realized how lonely she had been.
The wool rug was soft beneath her bare feet as she leaned against the doorframe, her chest painfully tight at the scene.
If there were a picture of her heart beating outside of her, it would be this—the man she loved and their son together.
“You two look comfortable,” she said, infusing a teasing warmth she didn’t feel into her words.
Renzo glanced up, his gaze instantly darkening as he swept it over her. She could live to be a hundred, but the thrill of his eyes landing on her would never pass. “You look…exhausted.”
Mimi chuckled, stepping fully into the room and dropping onto her knees beside them.
Instantly, a cocktail of scents greeted her nostrils—her son’s baby powder and her husband’s cologne.
She felt dizzy, a rush of overwhelming love for both filling her.
“I hate working out even as the trainer begins. It’s only after that I feel the rush.
” She sighed and rubbed her face in Luca’s belly.
“It would be nice if we could feel the adrenaline rush before we do the hard things in life, wouldn’t it?
A little reminder that it would be worth it. ”
Renzo remained silent. She wondered if it was because he understood what she meant or if he didn’t care. A hot prickle of tears greeted the backs of her eyes, and she blinked rapidly.
He had dragged her kicking and screaming into this marriage, given her a taste of how wonderful their relationship could be, and then distanced himself. She wanted to scream at him, demand he explain himself. Only he hadn’t done anything to break the conditions of their agreement, had he?
It was she who had changed utterly. And even though it was her fault, she couldn’t live with the unbearable ache of loving him and knowing he might never love her.
Lying down next to Luca, she grabbed his chubby hand and rubbed her nose in it. “What are you two talking about?”
Renzo shifted slightly, propping Luca up into his arms. Instantly, her son let out a long gurgle, excitement making his dark eyes shine.
God, he was tiny on that corded forearm, and yet Mimi never doubted that Renzo would temper his strength.
It was how he handled her too. Though she lived for the times when he lost control, when his raw need trumped his protective instincts and he let himself take what he needed from her. When he let her see how demanding he could be.
“I was telling him about Venice,” he said. “How the city sounds different as it gets colder. You hear fewer boats at night and fewer footsteps on the bridges.”
Mimi smiled, her gaze fixed on Luca. “Think he understood any of that?”
“Of course,” Renzo said, not meeting her eyes. “He’s very advanced for his age.”
She laughed softly, this time brushing her fingers over Luca’s feet. “I think he’s just happy to be warm and fed. Aren’t you, baby boy?”
Luca’s mouth moved slightly, and Mimi swore his eyes lingered on hers for a moment longer than usual.
“I didn’t realize what a big difference a few days makes in appearance,” Renzo said, his tone tinged with awe. “Every day, I notice something new. Like how he looks at us now. Like he knows we’re his.”
Mimi’s throat tightened as she glanced at her husband.
The light from the lamps caught on the sharp planes of his face, softening the usual intensity in his expression. There was something so tender, so unguarded, about the way he looked at Luca. And every time she caught that look, it made her realize that it was reserved only for their son.
No one else. But she wanted him to look at her like that too. She wanted so badly to be more than his son’s mother, his sensible, competent wife or his lover when the mood struck. She wanted to be everything to him.
“I think he recognizes you already,” she said, her voice soft.
Renzo chuckled, the rich sound filling the room. “He probably wonders why I talk so much.”
Mimi smiled, shifting closer until their shoulders touched. The air between them felt warmer now, a subtle connection threading through the quiet moment.
But the warmth, the shared connection, would disappear the minute they were out of Luca’s presence. And Mimi knew suddenly, despite wondering if she was shortchanging her son, that she couldn’t bear to live like this anymore.