Chapter 6
Stefan
“Finally decided to check in?” My brother's voice echoed in my office.
I set my feet on my desk and leaned back in the chair. “We've been—” I paused for a moment, “busy.”
Carlo laughed knowingly. “I knew you'd get over whatever hurdle you had to. Good for you, Brother. I take it you're enjoying yourself more?” He let out another laugh.
I cleared my throat. “We were enjoying the fuck out of each other. And then Mom showed up.”
There was a weighted silence before Carlo let out a long sigh. “Sorry, man. I tried to rein her in. But you know what she's like. There's no stopping her once she gets something in her head.”
I grinned to myself. Because I certainly knew exactly what my mother was like.
“She still there?” he asked in a significantly quieter voice than before.
I decided to let him off the hook. After all, it wasn't his fault that Elio and Olga had blabbed.
“She's in the kitchen giving Francesca a cooking lesson.”
A longer pause this time. “Fuck me. I'm sorry. Do you want me to talk to her?”
I shook my head even though he couldn't see. “No, we'll survive.”
Another long silence—and then he asked, “Just out of curiosity, what's she teaching your wife to cook?”
I smiled and answered instantly, “Gnocchi.”
He let out a breath. “Lucky asshole.”
I chuckled and dropped my feet from the desk. “It'll be good because Mom is cooking. But it'll also be good because Francesca is, too.” I stood and walked toward the windows. Nothing had made me happier than to see Francesca's reaction to the view. It affected her the same way it did me.
“Francesca cooks?”
The sky was bright and cloudless. Just how I liked it. “She fed me for weeks. Didn't always have the greatest ingredients. But she still did her best.”
Carlo had seen Francesca's place. He likely assumed how and what we were eating there. It didn't take a genius to figure out we hadn't been eating in style every day.
“Ah, then those two will have a good time.”
I knew he was right. I'd just witnessed how good a time they were having. “I walked in because I was feeling guilty for leaving Francesca alone with mom—even though I'd just been kicked out. Figured I could act as a buffer.”
Carlo waited for a beat. “And? What were they doing?” he asked in a curious tone.
I turned my head and caught sight of myself in a mirror. My smiling reflection shot back. I was grinning like a fool. “Mom gave Francesca a wedding present.”
Carlo sighed and pressed me. “Well? What did she give her?”
I laughed. “A ricer. Mom gave her a fucking ricer.”
Carlo gave an approving grunt. “A good ricer is hard to find. I'm sure it's the best of the best.”
My grin grew even wider in the mirror. “That's not the point,” I said, but didn't elaborate further.
“You gonna keep me in suspense? Or are you gonna tell me what the fuck the point is?”
Again—my smile widened.
When the fuck had I smiled like this before? I couldn't remember a time. “Francesca cried.”
Carlo let out a low whistle. “I'm assuming happy tears?”
I answered back, “Yeah. Very happy. Too happy.”
My brother knew exactly what I was getting at. Because he knew me. And he also knew where his wife and Eve had come from.
“You found a good one, Brother. Fuckin' happy you did.”
I gazed back out at the blue sky and the bluer water. “She fought me about buying her new clothes and shit. Said there was no way she could pay me back. And asked me to take her somewhere cheaper.”
Carlo laughed, and I joined him. “Sounds familiar, Brother. Sounds real fuckin' familiar.”
I knew exactly what he was talking about. Because Giselle and Eve were both like that. And to a large degree they still were.
“I know. It pissed me off—because she wasn't listening to me. But I was overfuckingjoyed at the same time. You know?”
Carlo laughed low and long this time.
Yeah.
He knew exactly what I meant.
“She'll get used to the life. They all do. But the good ones still give you attitude.”
I agreed with him, “She's got plenty of that.”
Carlo chuckled and said, “Then you're perfectly matched. Aren't you?” We both knew what he meant by that.
“You have no idea.”
My brother completely stopped laughing. “Did you take her—” he cleared his throat, “downstairs?”
I confirmed his suspicions. “I did.”
A moment later, he shouted, “And? Did she run screaming?”
I walked back to my chair and sat down. “No,” was all I said as visions of Francesca bent over in my room started to get me hard all over again. Even though I'd lost count of how many orgasms I'd already had today.
“Well? What did she do?” Carlo sounded more than annoyed at me.
“I started with a spanking—” I coughed, “and ended up pouring my heart out to her.”
Carlo laughed under his breath. “Well, we both knew that needed to happen. Sooner rather than later. But what did she think about your—room?” Yeah. He was a snoopy asshole. I couldn't blame him, though. Carlo had never been into that side of life. Not like me.
But we'd shared enough women over the years that he was well aware of my—proclivities.
“Curious. Definitely curious.”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “Good.
Sounds like she's definitely the perfect fit for you, then.” Something muffled Carlo's voice while he spoke to someone else.
When he came back to me, he said, “I've got a very pregnant woman in front of me requesting a foot rub.” I could hear Giselle saying something in the background but couldn't quite make it out.
“You better go tend to her. We'll talk business later.”
We said our goodbyes, and then I opened my laptop. I had plenty of work to keep me busy while Francesca and my mother bonded in the kitchen.
Carlo was right.
I was one lucky asshole.