Chapter 53 – Alessandro
I had to admit the stink of horse and barn was far better than the stench of blood and death, although equally as disgusting. Leaving the windows down on the car would help a little, but I was going to have Shepherd spray the interior. Next time I visited the riding stables, I would take a motorcycle. The air whipping past me would lessen the effect.
Instead of entering the house from the garage, I left toward the backyard to check on my newest project. The last three weeks, I spent more time indulging in things that were not business related. I found…joy in alternate pursuits. In my teens, I devoured anything that would make me strong. The twenties found me tightening my hold on my reign. Doing anything else, including having a family, made me afraid.
I didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility of fear, but now that my second wife was absent, it was time to call a spade a spade. I acted in fear.
Now I was rearranging everything to fit other pursuits into my life. So if—when, when my wife came back, there would be ample room for her here.
I plucked the watering can from the side of the house, pausing only to fill it from the rain barrel that the internet article said was the best way to collect water. Rounding the corner, I stopped short.
There, sitting beside the flower bed, was my little wasp. Her fingers were covered with a film of dirt as she plucked some small sprouts from among the blooms.
Standing still, I watched, hardly daring to believe my eyes. If I blinked, would she disappear?
Something must have caught her attention, because she started, sat up straight, and turned. I held my breath as her gaze met mine.
“Shepherd said—” Penelope gestured to the flower bed.
I could only imagine what the decrepit butler had been tattling about. “Do you like it?”
Penelope reached for a new blossom, tracing her fingers over it. “They’re the same that grow in the meadows.”
Exactly why I chose to grow them.
“Vespina, I—”
I never finished. Penelope launched from the stone ledge and rushed me. Jumping high, she leapt into my arms. Dropping the watering can, I caught her, wrapping her tight. There was nothing overly sensual in the act, it went far beyond that. There was an intimacy, a familiarity.
A homecoming.
Her weight settled against me, a perfect fit, and I buried my face in her neck, inhaling deeply. Even after all this time, she smelled the same—wide-open spaces and sunshine. My heart thundered against my ribs, a caged beast finally glimpsing freedom.
“You’re here,” I murmured, the words muffled against her skin. “You’re actually here.”
Her fingers dug into my shoulders, clinging as though afraid I might vanish. She clung to me with a sense of urgency, as though the very act would keep us together.
“I couldn’t stay away,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I tried, Alessio. Heaven knows I tried.”
I shifted her gently, reluctant to let go. My hand lingered on her waist while the other reached to cup her face. The watering can lay forgotten at our feet, water pooling around our shoes. I studied her face, searching for signs of what had kept her from me, what had driven her away in the first place.
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” I promised.
“Don’t change too much, Mr. Don.” Penelope leaned into my touch. “I’ve learned to love your monsters, and I want to continue, as before.”
My brows furrowed. “I won’t cage you.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll take me into the dark and be my guide.”
“You’ll never see my demons again,” I vowed. She needed to know, she needed to understand!
Her eyes flashed with a fire I’d missed, her fingers suddenly gripping my wrist. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to hide them from me. I want all of you—the darkness and the light.”
I stared at her, disbelieving. In my world, women wanted security, luxury, protection—not the blood-soaked reality beneath.
“When I left,” she continued, her voice softer now, “it wasn’t because of what you showed me. It was because you stopped showing me anything at all. You built walls, Alessio. You kept me in a beautiful cage while you disappeared into your darkness alone.”
My jaw clenched. “To protect you.”
“To protect yourself,” she countered, and the truth of it struck like a blade between my ribs. “You were afraid I’d see too much and leave. So you pushed me away first.”
Her words warmed something deep inside me, a frozen place I hadn’t realized existed until this moment. The idea that she could accept all of me—the blood, the darkness, the violence—was intoxicating.
“The last three weeks….” I began, but couldn’t finish. What could I say? That I’d been drowning without her? That I’d killed men with my bare hands just to feel something other than her absence?
Penelope’s eyes, those dangerous pools of ambers, greens, and browns that had haunted my dreams, softened. “I know. I felt it too.”
Penelope’s fingers traced the line of my jaw, her touch reverent yet possessive. I pulled her closer, my hand sliding to the nape of her neck. The familiar weight of her against me felt like absolution.
“Now, as your consigliere, we have a lot of missed ground to cover.” Penelope’s smile was nothing short of divine.
“Later,” I promised. “It’s been too long, and I’m famished.”
Her grin turned mischievous. “What do you want me to cook us for dinner? Or if you’d rather go out?”
My touch slid around the back of her head. A fire surged through my veins. Her lips found mine.
The kiss was savage, hungry, a desperate claiming after too much time apart. My fingers tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to make her gasp against my mouth. I swallowed the sound, greedy for every part of her.
“You know damn well I’m not hungry for food,” I growled against her lips.
Her body melted against mine, soft where I was hard, yielding where I was unyielding. But there was steel beneath that softness—the same steel that had allowed her to walk away from me, to survive in a world designed to break women like her.
“Alessio,” she breathed, and my name on her lips was both prayer and curse.
I lifted her, one arm beneath her thighs, and carried her toward the house. The flowers could wait. Everything could wait. Three weeks of emptiness demanded to be filled.
“Your shirt,” she murmured, fingers plucking at the buttons.
But she stopped after plucking a few.
Ah, crap. This was not how I wanted to ask her. Not on the staircase. I lowered us, holding her close.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” I confessed.
“Is that for me?” A wicked slant formed on her mouth.
Suddenly, it didn’t matter that this wasn’t the perfect spot. She was the perfect woman, and I wouldn’t rest until my ring was on her finger.
“Penelope June Mancini, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” I clasped her hands against my chest.
“Forever and ever.” She tugged at the string. “I’m going to stay with you.”
That was all I needed to hear. I pulled the cord loose, taking care not to let the silver charm fall as I took the specially made ring from the length. It slid perfectly on her finger, and I made a mental note to thank Blau for catching her size before he made it.
I captured her lips again, sealing our promise with a kiss that bordered on violent. My teeth scraped her lower lip, drawing a whimper from her that shot straight to my core. The ring glinted on her finger as she threaded her hands through my hair, pulling me closer.
“We’re already married,” she whispered against my mouth. “This is just making it official.”
She was right. From the moment she'd stepped into my world, defiant and unafraid, we’d been bound together by something beyond paper and ceremony. But the sight of my ring on her finger awakened something primal in me.
“Mine—my wife,” I growled, lifting her again and continuing our journey upstairs.
She laughed, the sound like music after months of silence. “Yours. Always.”