15. Francesca
FRANCESCA
We continued to inhabit the guest bedroom on the second floor, and while it had everything we needed, it felt more like a temporary hotel room than our home.
It didn’t feel like the villa on the vineyard or the beautiful seaside home in Palermo.
But we were together in one bed as a single person, and that was all we needed.
The house was quiet, and we were the only two on the second floor. My gun was on my nightstand, and he had his rifles and shotgun leaning against the wall in case he needed to grab them in a split second.
He moved over me and dipped his head to my stomach, kissing my belly and my hips, his big hand palming my thigh before his mouth moved farther up my body, between my tits and then to my neck.
His heavy body covered mine as he brought us close together. His dark eyes looked at me underneath him with a look he’d never shown me before. It was more than love—but what was deeper than love, I didn’t know. But it was, he felt it in his soul, and that brilliance shone out of his eyes.
He hooked one of my legs over his hip and brought me into the position he wanted before he dipped his head and kissed me.
It was slow and gentle, savoring the feeling of my lips with each embrace.
He’d made love to me before, but this was even more stripped-down and bare.
His soul was expelled from his chest and warm against my skin.
His hand slid into my hair, and he continued to kiss me, continued to hold me close and smother me with a heat hotter than the summer sun.
He pulled back to look as he guided himself inside me, his stare penetrating mine with a hint of possession and respect.
He didn’t just love me and want me, but he respected who I was.
I wasn’t a possession but a beloved person.
He entered me with a quiet sigh, sinking into my slick flesh like it was the first time. We weren’t married, just engaged, but now our lives were forever intertwined by an eternal commitment we both acknowledged.
He didn’t enter me fully, gave me as much as would feel comfortable, and then he kissed me again, gently rocking into me like this had nothing to do with pleasure. It was a moment where our souls connected, when our hearts grazed each other as we moved together. “I love you, Francesca.”
I cupped his face as I squeezed his hips with my thighs, and I stared into the eyes of the man I would love for the rest of my life.
The man who had changed my life the moment our eyes met across the room.
He showed me how capable I was, and even during the moments I was scared, I was still strong.
I wouldn’t even be alive if it weren’t for him.
I would be a prisoner or rotting in a shallow grave somewhere. “I love you, Wolfe.”
We didn’t have dinner because as soon as the workday was over, we holed up in the bedroom until the crickets started to chirp outside in the dark. Eventually, Wolfe grew hungry and got out of bed to put on his sweatpants.
“Hungry?” I asked, already knowing based on his quiet mood.
“Starving. Gonna head down to the kitchen and look for something.”
“I can whip us up something,” I said as I left the sheets and grabbed a dress to throw on.
“You don’t have to cook, baby. It’s late.”
“I don’t mind,” I said as I slipped my feet into my sandals. “Not like I’m going to be able to sleep anyway.”
He grinned. “I like the sound of that.” When I walked past him to the door, he gave my ass a playful smack.
We headed downstairs to the kitchen on the bottom floor. The staff lived in separate quarters on the property, about half a mile down one of the dirt roads, so they could have privacy away from the main villa.
I flicked on the light and stepped into the enormous kitchen with multiple stoves and sinks and fridges, intentionally designed to feed a lot of people all the time.
Wolfe leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest, tattooed perfection, his hair a little messy from the way I fingered it when we were in bed together. He watched me move about the kitchen and prepare something for us to eat.
“How does carbonara sound?” We had everything to whip it together.
“Fuck yeah,” he said. “How can I help?”
“You can grate the cheese.”
“Yes, boss.” He grinned like he knew that was going to get under my skin—and he liked it.
I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the big pot and filled it with water and salt. “You’re really going to call me that?”
“I can call you whatever I want.”
“Well, when it’s just the two of us, I feel like you’re the boss, not me.”
He grabbed the cheese from the counter and started to grate it. “Nope. You’re always in charge—even when it doesn’t seem like it.”
I picked up the pasta from the counter and added it to the water when it started to boil.
He grabbed the plates, utensils, and linens before he stepped away. “Going to snag a bottle from the wine cellar.” He gave my ass a smack before he walked out and disappeared.
I gathered the eggs and other ingredients and mixed them together, so they would be ready to add to the pasta once it was finished. When the timer went off, I drained the noodles and mixed the sauce with them.
Wolfe returned a moment later with a bottle in hand. He uncorked it on the counter and poured two glasses.
I finished up the meal and plated it before I sprinkled extra cheese on top.
“Damn, that smells good.” He grabbed everything he could carry and took it outside to the terrace. It was a warm evening during the hottest days of summer, so it felt nice outside. He flicked on the lights that hung overhead, and it felt like we had a private restaurant all to ourselves.
We sat across from each other and ate our dinner, the world quiet except for the crickets in the field.
Wolfe inhaled his food like he usually did and dug his hand into the bread basket in the center.
I’d found some leftover bread from earlier that day, and it still tasted fresh.
The exterior had a nice crunch to it, which was how I preferred my bread anyway.
Once he’d eaten half of his plate, his hunger abated, and he looked at me across the table, elbows resting on the surface. His eyes moved to my left hand and stared at the ring he’d given me. “Looks good on you.”
“You mean you look good on me.”
He smirked as he chewed his food and gave a nod. After he swallowed, he said, “Yep.”
“When did you get the ring?”
“A while ago.”
“What’s a while?”
“When we moved to Palermo and you tried to tell me you loved me, but I said it first.”
I remembered that night. With that single conversation, it felt as if our lives had changed.
“I felt like that was the moment our life together began.”
“Yeah.”
“So I went to a jeweler in town when you were asleep.”
“You did a good job. I love it.” I turned the top of my hand toward me and admired the ring.
Even in the low light, it sparkled. Without knowing a single thing about jewelry, I recognized the quality of the diamonds.
Wolfe never did anything half-assed, so I knew he had probably bought the most expensive ring in the store.
“I put it on a chain instead of a box so I wouldn’t lose it.”
“So you wore it?”
“Sometimes,” he said with a nod.
“Around me?”
“Yeah.”
“What if I took off your shirt?”
He shrugged. “Then I would have asked you at that moment. Would have asked you sooner, but with everything that happened, it didn’t feel like the right time.
I realize that even now isn’t the right time, but I couldn’t wait.
” He spun his fork in his pasta then placed the bite in his mouth before he sat back in the chair and rested his arms on the armrest. He cocked his head slightly as he looked at me and chewed.
“It was perfect. I’m glad you asked me the way you did.”
He swallowed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s our story. It’s right for us. I wouldn’t want anything fancy or showy.”
“I wanted to ask you here because it was where I saw you for the first time. And the second I laid eyes on you…” He shook his head and issued a low whistle. “I knew I was done for.”
Hard to believe this drop-dead gorgeous man could spot me from a distance away and want me, when he could have anyone. That I was somehow the one woman he couldn’t live without. That he would commit to me without hesitation or a struggle with temptation.
“So when are we going to get married?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” he asked. “I hoped you would say tomorrow or this weekend.”
I chuckled, touched by his enthusiasm.
“Do you want to have a traditional wedding?”
I thought about it for a second or two before I shook my head. “No.”
“Then you want to get hitched?”
“Yeah. Just the two of us.”
That handsome smile slowly stretched across his face. “I like that.”
“Would you mind if we got married in a church?”
The smile remained, but his eyes slowly hardened into seriousness. “I’ll marry you anywhere, baby. Just tell me when to show up.”
I’d always imagined I would have a big wedding with five hundred guests and my father giving me away in the church.
Assumed we would have a grand party at a fancy hotel that my father would pay top dollar for. But now that he was gone, everything was different. I didn’t have any family anymore.
Just Wolfe.
So if I couldn’t have my father there, I didn’t want anyone there.
“Do you want me to take your last name?”
He grabbed his fork again and spun it around the pasta. “Do you want to take my last name?”
“I know that’s important to most men.”
“Well, I’m not most men, baby.” He put the pasta in his mouth and chewed as he wiped the corner of his lips with a napkin. “You can have a different last name, but trust me, no one is going to be confused about who you’re married to.”
That was another reason why I loved him. He didn’t conform to typical traditions. He was his own man with his own thoughts and opinions. So secure in who he was, his masculinity was rock solid. Having a wife who kept her last name wouldn’t create any resentment on his part.