16. Arabella
Chapter 16
Arabella
W hen we arrived at the tattoo parlour without an appointment, I saw firsthand the power my husband commands. With a simple nod and a few quiet words, the artist immediately cleared his schedule and ensured we were taken care of.
When Dante added, “We’re both getting inked, and I want my wife in the same room as me. I’m not comfortable with her being alone with another man,” the staff sprang into action and began shifting the furniture around to accommodate him. They didn’t even seem perturbed by his request. It was like they were honoured to have him in their presence.
With some manoeuvring, they managed to fit two beds into one of the rooms, so my husband and I are currently side by side, with me on my front and him on his back.
“Are you okay, Bellezza ?” Dante asks, reaching out to grasp my hand and giving it a firm squeeze.
I screw up my face because the butterflies have kicked in now. “Is this going to hurt?”
The question slips out before I can stop it. I’m not having second thoughts; I want to do this, but a needle repeatedly puncturing my skin doesn’t sound like something I’d enjoy .
I no longer have the liquid courage to see me through. The shots I had at the club had already worn off by the time we left. Our little session in the bathroom seemed to straighten me up pretty quickly.
As we crossed the main floor when we were leaving, it felt like everyone’s eyes were on us. My cheeks burned with embarrassment as if they knew exactly what was happening upstairs in the VIP room, even though they probably had no idea. Luckily, Bianca was nowhere in sight.
I’m still mad, but I’m struggling to wrap my head around the way I threatened to cut that woman’s throat. I don’t know if it was the alcohol in my system or just pure jealousy taking over. I know Dante has a history—I don’t doubt there’s a plenitude of women just like her lurking in the shadows—but meeting one of them in person cut deeper than I ever expected.
“He’s only applying the stencil right now, but it will hurt a bit once he starts inking you. You can handle it, though. You’ve survived worse.”
When he gives me a cheeky wink, my eyes widen, which makes him chuckle. I know exactly what he’s referring to—me losing my virginity—and I can’t believe he said that out loud … in front of an audience.
I’m getting a smaller version of his tattoo on his left pectoral, but mine will be on my shoulder blade. Praying hands holding rosary beads. Like his, it will also be a tribute to my mother.
I’m not sure what kind of tattoo Dante is getting, but I’m sure I’ll love it. His ink is sexy.
By the time we arrive back home, the skin on my back is on fire. It feels stripped raw, but it turned out so good. I love it .
I still don’t know what Dante had done. His tattoo was finished before mine, and he kept his back to me while putting on his shirt. He then sat on a chair beside me and held my hand for the duration of my time. He leaned in to kiss my shoulder every time I flinched, which was sweet.
I pull my phone out of my bag and open the camera app. “Can you take a photo of my tattoo? I want to send it to my sister.”
“Sure, turn around.”
Dante gently slides the strap of my dress off my shoulder and brushes my hair to one side. When he’s done, he leans in and places a soft kiss right beside my tattoo. I love his sweet side; it’s a side I feel he reserves just for me.
I turn to face him and take the phone out of his hand. “Thank you. Are you going to show me yours?”
He casually lifts one shoulder. “Sure, if you want to see it.”
“Of course I do.”
He slides out of his suit jacket, drapes it over the back of the bar stool, and begins undoing the buttons on his dress shirt. When he draws the shirt open, I gasp. I was not expecting to see my name.
Arabella is styled in a large, bold font that spans the width of his upper chest, almost stretching from one shoulder to the next. The letters are thick, with strong black outlines, and the interior is filled with finer detail. The contrast between the bold lettering of my name and the softer, more detailed scrolls underneath balances the tattoo beautifully.
“You got my name permanently inked on you?” I ask, a combination of shock and awe lining my voice.
“ Bellezza ,” he answers, stepping in and sliding his arms around my waist. “Don’t sound so surprised. You’re my wife … my woman . It’s only logical I’d get your name inked on me.”
“It’s just …”
“This tattoo isn’t just ink; it’s my commitment to you. I know we didn’t have a conventional start, but I feel like we are getting there. My past might make you question things, but what we are building here is real … you’re the only one I want.”
“Oh, Dante,” I say, leaning in to place a soft kiss over my name. “I love it.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Can I take a photo to send to Lucia?”
“Of course, and I’m glad you love it,” he replies as I hold up my phone and snap a picture. “I hope one day you can love the man too.”
This man.
My eyes flicker up to his face, locking with his. If things continue the way they are, I have no doubt that will happen. There are definitely feelings coming into play, and I like this softer version of him. The way he protects and cares for me. He’s nothing like the man I once perceived him to be.
“Thank you for coming with me to the airport this morning, for the distraction, the shots, the orgasms, and the tattoo.”
This has a smile curving his lips. “You’re welcome.”
When he heads into his office to make some calls, I text my sister.
Me: I know you’ll still be in the air, but I wanted to show you what I got after you left.
I attach the image of my tattoo first and press send.
Me: Look at the one Dante got … swoon.
When I pull up the image I took of his, tears burn the back of my eyes as I stare down at it. My fingertip glides over the letters of my name, and I’m suddenly hit with a realisation.
I more than like this man.
This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, and belonging to him makes me feel a happiness I’ve never known.
I wake in the morning to a barrage of text messages from my sister.
Lucia: My flight just landed. It was sooooo long. Is it wrong that I’m not even excited to be home? I left a big piece of my heart back in Australia.
Lucia: Holy crap, you got a tattoo!!! I’m so jealous. I want one now.
Lucia: I’d give my left kidney to be back there with you and Dante. I miss Australia. You have the best life now, Arabella. I hope you realise that. I’m really happy for you, but super bummed for me.
The sadness that crashed over me when I said goodbye to her at the airport yesterday returns full force, hitting me with the same heart-aching intensity as before.
Lucia: Oh my god!!!! Dante got your name tattooed on his chest. That is so hot. I love it. I even swooned a bit when I saw it too. I hope when Papa marries me off, it’s to a man like him. I want what you two have, Bell-Bell. I want someone who will treat me right. Someone that will look at me the way he looks at you. You two are like the couples in my romance novels.
Me: I’m glad you arrived safely, but I wish you were still here. I miss you so much Lu-Lu, and it’s only been a day. I’m going to ask Dante to work on Papa to see if I can get you back here for my birthday. And what do you mean ‘The way he looks at you’? How does he look at me?
Lucia: Like you are the sunshine in his day … The melody in his song … The best thing that’s ever happened to him.
He does?
Me: I think you’ve been reading too many romance novels.
Lucia: Nope, true story. I have proof. Hold on, I’ll show you.
Before I get a chance to reply, image after image comes through. They are all of Dante. In each one, there’s a relaxed, goofy kind of smile on his face.
Lucia: As you can see, these were taken at different times on different days when he was watching you. He does that often, you know. Whenever you are in the room, his attention remains on you.
It does?
My finger swipes across the screen, moving from one photo to the next. With each swipe, warmth spreads throughout my body. The excitement of knowing he looks at me like this when I’m not paying attention has a tight knot forming in my chest. Do his feelings for me run deeper than I ever imagined?
Me: Wow.
Lucia: I know, right? I want someone to look at me like that. I know you weren’t happy about marrying him, but I think he’s proven he’s not a monster like Papa is.
Everything he’s done since we exchanged vows has been contradictory to my initial perception of him.
When I get to the last image, I raise my phone and hug it to my chest as butterflies take flight in my stomach.
Lucia: I’m almost home, so I have to hide the phone you and Dante bought me. I don’t want Papa to confiscate it. I’ll text you when I get up to my room. x
Me: Okay. I hope Papa is in a good mood when you get there. x
Lucia: Makes two of us. Now that I’ve had a taste of the good life, it’s going to be hell being back here.
Her last message has my heart constricting in my chest.
Lucia: What is that saying? The honeymoon is over.
Me: Oh no, what happened?
Lucia: When I got home, Papa was a complete stronzo. He said he hoped I enjoyed my time in Australia because it would be the last time I go there.
Me: Oh, Lu-Lu
Lucia: I really wish someone would whack him.
Me: Lucia!!! What a dreadful thing to say.
Lucia: Don’t act like you don’t wish for the same thing. I remember how you used to end your nighttime prayers when we were younger.
Me: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Lucia: Really, Bell-Bell? If I remember correctly, it went something like this … Please watch over me and my little sister Lucia and keep us safe. We will be fine if you decide it’s time to bring Papa home to you. Amen.
Ugh. I can’t believe she remembers that. It was my subtle way of asking God to take him away, but even heaven didn’t want him. Not that I think it’s where he’ll go when the time eventually comes. God only takes the good people, like Mamma.
I cross my legs and squirm a little in my seat as I flip the page. I’m so glad I asked Lucia to leave one of her books behind. Specifically, the one she was reading before she left.
Meeting that beautiful, tall, busty blonde, Bianca, from my husband’s past, only reiterated that I need to improve in the bedroom if I want to keep this man all to myself. That woman was confident and exuded prowess … until I threatened to cut her throat.
My point is that Dante is used to being with experienced women, ones who know how to please. I want to be that woman for him. I want to give him the kind of pleasure he gives me.
I don’t have time to read the entire book; I have things to do inside, so for now, I’m flipping to all the good parts. Specifically, the blow jobs. Tonight, I’m going to surprise my husband and go down on him without nearly choking myself in the process.
When I get to the end of the scene, I close the book and rise from the sun lounge by the pool, where I’ve been lying for the past half an hour. I need to get a start on dinner.
I love being out here, and it was the perfect place to come. I don’t want Dante to know what I’m doing. I want to see the look of surprise on his face when I give him the best blow job he’s ever had. If I manage to pull it off, that is.
I almost feel guilty about being by the pool, considering the travesties Dante and his father faced in this very spot. I can understand why he wouldn’t want to come out here. I got chills down my spine whenever I passed the spot where my mother was murdered.
My bare feet pad against the pavers as I head towards the glass-panelled fence where I placed my towel, only to drop it to the ground and let out a blood-curdling scream when a spider the size of my hand runs up my arm.
I flick it off, releasing another high-pitched squeal as I watch it scurry underneath the chair I’d just been sitting on—one I doubt I’ll ever sit in again.
Pepi, my driver back in Italy, warned me about the giant spiders in Australia. I thought he was exaggerating their size. Obviously, he wasn’t.
Two guards come running around the side of the house. I’m not sure what terrifies me the most, the spider or the fact that their guns are drawn. A moment later, Dante comes flying out the back sliding doors; he also has a gun in hand.
“Mrs Mancini,” the first guard says breathlessly when he reaches me. “Is everything okay? ”
I feel my face heat as I try to think what to tell him without sounding utterly ridiculous. These men kill for a living, so I doubt a spider would frighten them, no matter how big.
I open my mouth to speak just as Dante comes flying through the pool gate. “Bellezza ,” he pants as his eyes scan my face. His complexion is pale, and now I hate myself for drawing him out here. “What happened? Are you okay? I heard your scream from my office.”
I wince. “A spider the size of a small mammal ran up my arm.”
He rears back. “A spider?”
“Dante, it was huge … like the size of my head.” I know I said it was the size of my hand a few minutes ago, but a little exaggeration might help my plight.
“The size of your head?” he counters.
When I hear one of the guards nearby laugh, I turn my face in that direction and narrow my eyes. “It was,” I lie.
Dante’s eyes flicker down, and when he notices I’m only dressed in a skimpy bikini, he too faces his men. “Leave us,” he growls.
They immediately turn, heading back the way they came, as my husband shrugs out of his jacket and wraps it around my upper body.
“What are you doing?”
“Covering you up. I don’t want my men to see you dressed so … scantily.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s a bikini.”
“I can see that,” he says, grasping the lapels and tugging me closer. “This sexy body of yours, Arabella, is for my eyes only.”
Pushing up on my toes, I place my lips against his. I like being possessed by this man, and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he’s now standing in a place he swore he never would again, all because he thought I was in danger .
“Thank you for coming out here to rescue me.”
“I thought something had happened to you.”
“It did. A spider the size of a large cat ran up my arm.”
When I feel his body vibrate with laughter, I reach up to pinch his side. “Ouch.”
“Stop laughing at me.”
“The spider seems to grow in size every time you mention it.”
I blow out a puff of air. “I don’t think it bit me; I flicked it off as soon as I saw it. Was it poisonous? Pepi told me Australia has some of the most poisonous spiders and snakes in the world.”
“It’s true we do.” He takes a step back. “Let me look at your arm?”
I slide the fabric of his jacket off one shoulder as he leans in to study it. “I can’t see anything. Do you know what kind of spider it was?”
“A giant one,” I answer, which has him laughing again. “It ran under that chair,” I add, pointing.
I retreat a few steps when he lets me go and heads towards the sun lounge. He flips it over without a care in the world. “Just as I suspected,” he says, reaching out to grab it.
“Dante, don’t touch it.”
“It’s a harmless huntsman. They look more menacing than they actually are.”
He holds out his hand, and I sway on my feet when I see it nestled in his palm. “See.”
“Don’t bring it near me,” I screech.
He chuckles as he walks towards the edge of the tiled area and tosses it onto the grass. As much as I don’t like that thing, I’m kind of glad he didn’t kill it.
“Come,” he says, approaching me and reaching for my hand.
“I’m sorry I forced you to come out here.”
“It’s fine. I survived it. ”
Those words hang heavy on my heart. Last time he was out here, he nearly didn’t.
“My only concern was you and your safety.”
Those words have my throat tightening. I’m not used to feeling so protected. “Thank you.”
As we go to exit the pool area, he leans down to scoop up my towel. “What’s this?” he asks when he spies the book that is lying underneath it.
“Umm.” He straightens and arches an eyebrow when his gaze meets mine. “Lucia must have left it here.”
He smiles smugly. “You were reading it, weren’t you?”
I lift my chin. “I don’t like what you are implying,” I grumble as I snatch it out of his hands and begin storming towards the house.
He barks out a laugh, which has me growling under my breath.
“ Bellezza ,” he says, coming up behind me and wrapping his hand around my elbow. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.”
I pause, turning to face him. Ashamed is precisely how I feel … or maybe embarrassed is a better word.
Tears sting the back of my eyes as they meet his. “I …”
“Hey,” he says, wrapping me in his arms and pulling my face down into his chest. “I don’t care what you read.”
“I wanted to surprise you. I wanted to be sexy and show you that I had some experience like Bianca.”
“Bianca,” he growls, drawing back to cup my face. “What does she have to do with this?”
“I bet she gives great headjobs. I wanted to please you … like the others have.”
He blows out a long, exasperated breath. “You do please me, Arabella.”
“You’ve had to teach me everything. I’d never even kissed a man before you.”
“And I love that. ”
“You do?”
“Yes. It means I’m the only man who’s ever touched you. The only man who’ll ever be inside you.”
“My inexperience isn’t a turn-off? You’re used to?—”
“Those others have nothing on you, amore mio bellissimo .”
He just called me his beautiful love .
Love .
“I want to please you.”
“You do,” he replies with so much conviction in his voice that I believe him. “And not just in the bedroom. You make me happy, Arabella. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
The tears I’d been fighting now flood my eyes. But they’re not ones brought on by shame or humiliation. They are tears of joy.
I slide my arms around his waist and bury my face in his chest again. “You make me happy too, Dante Mancini.”
I thought I was condemned to a lifetime of misery by being forced to marry this man, but he’s turned out to be the biggest blessing.