CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
T he elevator door opened, and Rocco entered the loft with his arms wide. I let out an excited gasp as I went into his embrace. His eight days away in L.A. felt like an eternity, and he was just as willing to get closer, grabbing the back of my head and crushing his lips to mine. I kissed him back, sliding my tongue in his mouth, and moaned. My hand grasped his free hand and pulled it down between my thighs.
Rocco suddenly broke our kiss and clasped my hand, stopping me.
“You don’t want to?” I asked in a shocked tone, catching my breath.
“I do, Bella—”
“Rocco stopped because I’m here.”
A man stepped out of the elevator from behind him, and I instantly recognized him as George Caruso, one of the most visible wealthiest men in the world. His messy pompadour had become iconic and a signature part of his persona. That, and he was often doing flashy stunts, like sending a neon welcome banner up on one of his private spacecrafts to encourage alien tourism.
My face heated, and I quickly straightened my dress. “Excuse me.”
“No, please excuse me,” George said and let out a whistle. “ Passione , eh Rocco?”
“Yes. My Adelina spoils me.” Rocco kissed my forehead and took my waist. “George decided to take a ride back with me from L.A.”
George came over and extended his hand. “Glad to meet you.”
I forced myself to make eye contact as I shook it. “Likewise, Mr. Caruso.”
“George,” he said, tilting his head. “Please don’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing more beautiful than passion. I had it with…Sonia. Remember her, Rocco?”
“I do. Sonia was lovely.”
George sighed wistfully. “She was, but not a Bella Fiori, a beautiful flower, like you’ve married. I should turn you down on that alone, Rocco. No one should be that lucky.”
Ah, a typical Italian flirt. But I’m no wallflower. I’m Rocco Marini’s wife .
I lifted my chin. “Thank you, George. It’s a pleasure to meet you. If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve prepared something to eat.”
George’s smile broadened. “Sweet, too. I can’t blame you, Rocco, for being eager to start your honeymoon. Sorry, Adelina, I detained him an extra day.”
I lifted my shoulders. “That’s the nature of business.”
“Yes, and now we need to leave for the airport,” Rocco added his voice strained.
George chuckled. “So you’ve told me, Rocco. Hope to see you again soon.”
I shook his hand again. “Nice meeting you, George.”
“I’ll be right back,” Rocco said to me and walked George into the elevator. He sighed heavily when the door closed. “Sorry. He took me up on my offer to meet you and spontaneously boarded the plane.”
My brows rose. “Really?”
He sighed. “That’s George, and boy can he talk. He never shuts up.”
I laughed. “So, was L.A. a success?”
Rocco rubbed his jaw. “For the most part. George’s playing hardball.”
“Really?”
“Yep. He wants to be made a partner.”
I frowned. “So that means a no from him?”
“Not exactly. He’s doing what I’d do, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement that works for both of us. Are you all packed?”
“I am,” I blew out and hunched my shoulders. “But you just got back.”
He tugged me into a hug. “I’ll sleep on the flight.”
Zane walked up to us. “Planes ready whenever you are.”
Rocco lifted my hand and kissed the back. “Ready?”
We both decided to move forward from the past. No matter how Rocco came into my life, I wanted him there, and we had a chance to start over and build something real. So, I said the only answer I had. “Yes, I am.”
Knock, Knock . “Mr. Marini?”
I snuggled against Rocco’s chest on the bed, relaxing in his embrace.
“Yes, Alice.”
“The pilot would like a word with you.”
His chest rose and fell. “I’ll be right there.” He turned me over and straddled me, pinning my wrists to the mattress. “You awake, Mrs. Marini?”
I giggled. “What do you think?”
He kissed and nipped my neck, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine. “Mmm. I think you feel good under me.”
“Then stay,” I teased, but he had to go.
He pecked my lips, then let out a deep sigh as he rose off me. My hands slid down his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles as he climbed off the bed.
“You change here, and I’ll meet you outside the plane.”
“Yes, Mr. Marini,” I mused.
He put on a robe, came back over, kissed me again, and then left the room.
Excitement and adrenaline course through my veins as the plane lowered for the first leg of our flight to the Caribbean. I quickly changed into a bikini, a white linen sundress, and sandals, then moved to a leather chair and put on a seatbelt.
The screen image of our flight said we were in St. Lucia, and it was close to eighty Fahrenheit. We had another flight scheduled to Mustique Island, an exclusive, private island in the tropics. From what I searched online, it had modern villas, boats on private piers, and immaculate, white-sand beaches. Most of all, there was no press allowed on the island. It was a place for celebrities and their families to vacation in peace.
The plane landed, and I headed outside. I instantly felt like an ant under a magnifying glass in the direct sun . I absently fanned with my hand and stood under a wing for shade to wait as Rocco chatted with the pilot next to a smaller plane we would take to reach the island.
Rocco turned his head and pushed his dark waves off his forehead as a gust of wind and sand blew it and his shirt. Today he wore turquoise linen, with most buttons undone at the top. He must have felt me staring as his attention went to me, and I could already see the smile spreading across his face. My pulse sped as he jogged over, stopping short when he reached me.
“Your skin’s flushed. Are you too hot? Did you put on sunscreen?” He fussed, placing his palm on my forehead and shoulders. His attention sent a flutter through my stomach. Was this what men did with the women they were intimate with? I had no gage for normality. I grew up thinking I shouldn’t trust a man’s concern. My father often pretended to care after he hurt Mama, and I mocked anyone who tried it with me, thinking they were also faking. But Luca showed me different. He gave me Rocco, who was so genuine. I couldn’t push him away.
My hands covered his, and I tilted my head up, grinning. “I’m fine, baby. Don’t worry.”
He winced. “Baby?”
“Don’t like it?” I bit my lip.
He playfully cringed. “Paul calls Nadia baby.”
I laughed loudly, delighting in learning something intimate about my new friends.
“Okay, I’ll find something else you like better.”
“I like you a lot,” he murmured, then kissed me.
My heart skipped a beat.
Zane’s voice called over. “We’re ready.”
We walked hand in hand behind him, and that old fear of falling returned seeing the small propeller and seats visible behind the pilot. I knew online this was the only way to go, and I thought I prepared myself, but jittering started, and my legs went wobbly up the stairs.
“I’m right here, Bella.” Rocco took my hand and squeezed it. Then, he placed his arm around my shoulders to keep me close. I snuggled against him, taking his shelter.
“I forgot how to fly this thing,” the pilot joked.
We all let out a laugh drowned out by the noise that sounded like a mosquito as the plane lifted into the air. It turned, and my anxiety rose as it swayed and vibrated to level.
“Ahh,” I cried and squeezed Rocco’s hand.
Rocco leaned over my ear. “It’s just changing direction. You’ll feel more air pockets, but trust me, it’s safe.” He kissed my cheek. “Look out at the view.”
My head turned to peer out, but all I could see was blue waters stretching for miles. I closed my eyes. No thanks.
Within minutes, the plane leveled to smoother than before. I sighed in relief and rolled my neck to let go of some of the tension.
“It’s not so bad,” I screamed above the noise.
“It’s good,” the pilot called back.
“See? You can do anything,” Rocco yelled. He picked up my hand and raised my arm.
I let out a laugh.
“Hey, can you bring it down, Vance?” Rocco yelled.
The pilot lowered the plane closer to the water, and Rocco let out a woot.
I laughed.
“Look at the corals and fishes; you can’t miss this, Bella.” He placed his hand on my back, and I stared out at the aquamarine water and could see the coral fishes moving below the surface. I lifted my chin to the breeze coming through the open window—the water’s air and mist cooled my skin. My eyes went to Rocco, and he was already looking at me with an expression I’d seen a few times but couldn’t read.
My brows raised. “Is everything okay?”
He touched my chin. “Yes. Still scared?”
I shook my head no. “It’s so beautiful.”
The plane slowed as we approached land. White sands and crystal waters appeared below us, along with the wild palms and plants of the tropical place. Amongst them were white stone and rock villas with swimming pools and a beach with boats on docks.
Rocco climbed out first, took my hand, and walked down the last few steps. The climate was hot, but a nice breeze came off the water, making it feel like a warm bath. It was soothing. I turned in a circle. Was this really me? I’d only seen photos online and thought of them as staged ads. I never thought I’d be a newlywed bride on a tropical honeymoon.
Rocco took my hands. “Excited?”
I grinned. “I am.”
“It’s only the beginning.”
Two cars pulled up to where we stood. Zane immediately transferred our bags to the Mercedes, and a driver walked up and handed Rocco the keys to a white Ferrari. It was a two-seater with flowers on the back and a sign in the back seat that said, “Just Married.”
My jaw dropped. “Wow. This is so wonderful.”
Rocco always tried to make it personal.
“Shall we?” Rocco walked over and held the door open.
I beamed at him and sat down in the tan leather seat. “We shall.”
Rocco took the seat behind the wheel and started the car, driving us through thick green hills and sand-covered roads.
“You’ve been here before?”
“Yes. With my grandparents. Grandpa loved it here. He gave this villa to us in his will and left the honeymoon to me.”
“He put so much into the wedding at that castle. He loved you, Rocco.”
“He loved you, Adelina. So very much.”
I swallowed hard and missed my friend. Like me, he did terrible things and good things. But he had remorse and worked hard to make it all better. I wish I could still have that conversation with him about it. Maybe our friendship could’ve survived afterward.
Rocco slowed, and we reached the stone pillars and a mahogany gate with vines and lions, Marini’s key signature. It was similar to Marini’s Westchester estate.
The gate opened, and Rocco drove into an underground parking area and pulled into a space next to a couple of luxury cars and a golf cart.
“You know what?” Rocco said mischievously.
I grinned. “What?”
“I never got the pleasure of carrying you over the threshold.”
I waved my hands and shook my head rapidly. “Don’t do it.”
I thought he’d be amused, but he was serious. “As your prince charming, it’s only right that I carry you away.”
“Oh yeah? Why is that?”
“Because I am your happy ever after.”
My palm went to my chest, feeling the fast beats of my heart pounding hard on my ribcage. I dropped my head, fearing that the tears stinging at the back of my eyes would fall. He came close and pulled me in a hug, and I held on tight like he was a lifeline steadying me.
“What do you want from me?” I rasped.
“Everything. I want to have all of you.”
Rocco’s words swept me off my feet before he did. My head rested on his shoulders as he carried me up the marble stairs . He was still pursuing me, even after he married me. It surprised and flattered me the lengths that he’d go to romance me. He was determined to make me fall in love with him. It frightened me as much as it fascinated me that he would break all my efforts to resist him.
Once I was back on my feet, we were in a spacious living room with modern neutral couches, a piano, artwork, and numerous bookcases. After greeting the staff, we took a short flight of stairs down to a large kitchen, where a chef was busy preparing a meal using a fire pit that smelled delicious. I had eaten well during the plane ride, but the aroma of mangoes and coconut and the scent of grilled fish made my mouth water.
“Let’s go upstairs,” Rocco suggested.
I walked with Rocco up another flight of stairs to the primary bedroom. The custom bed was surrounded by glass, offering a superb view of the ocean, white beach, and the approaching orange-pink sunset—a view of paradise. I was utterly mesmerized.
Rocco came up close behind me and held me tight. What surprised me the most was how quiet it was. So peaceful.
The sound of steel drums beating filtered from an open window.
Rocco placed a kiss on my shoulder. “We’re needed on the beach.”
My brows rose. “What’s going on?”
He was attempting to blank his face, but his grin won out.
“Hmm, what are you up to, Mr. Marini?” I poked his side.
“I don’t want to miss seeing your beautiful face when you see our surprise.”
My heart melted, and I followed him outside, where there was a polished marble path with a glass canopy and two swimming pools along the sides.
I stopped to gaze at the ripple of water and the darkening cloud, envisioning a composition I wanted to remember later. Rocco waited patiently, and then I stood. He placed his arm on my waist and led us further along the patio outside. Down a short flight of stairs was an outdoor shower, large enough for two.
“We have to fuck in there,” Rocco mused.
“If we have to,” I joked back, and he laughed.
Rocco turned back and smiled at me, then slowed down as we descended even more stairs. At the bottom was the white sand beach and billowing smoke. We walked on further, and my mouth dropped open. There was a roll of torches.
“Rocco,” I said his name and gasped.
A white tent with numerous pillows, satin fabrics, textures, and brightly colored large decorative rugs and seats—modern, large lamps shaped like torches provided illumination. Fresh-cut fruits, dates, nuts, berries, plantains, rice, and beans were beautifully displayed on a long, low table, all looking delicious. An assistant approached with two large, covered platters that contained the aromatic meal we’d seen the chef making in the kitchen.
I spun around and caught my breath. My heart lifted to my throat, and I placed my hands on it, attempting to hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions that brought tears to my eyes. Rocco always went big with everything he did, including tonight. He had an extravagant tent fit for royalty and a lavish meal on the beach to start our honeymoon. And that alone was a lot, but he also had hired a band. There were steel drummers, guitarists, and maraca players. They started playing a Caribbean version of Mama Cass’s “Dream A Little Dream.”
“Oh, Rocco. It’s so amazing,” I enthused and sobbed.
Rocco held out his hand. “So are you, my Bella.”
I could see his glittering eyes even in the soft haze of the sun and firelights. His gaze was intense, filled with a deep yearning for me. My body craved everything that his look promised.
“Shall we have our wedding dance?”
Rocco took my hands, turned me around, and dipped me. Then, he held me in his arms, and we swayed together under the setting sun. I wanted that dream of a life and a happy ever after. I wanted to believe in love and have Rocco’s heart because I was sure he would have mine.