13. Antonio
Chapter thirteen
Antonio
F uck, my wife is gorgeous. And if I don’t make her mine soon, I’m going to get calluses on my hand from jacking off in the shower so often.
Lucia is out on the terrace with Rose, looking like a movie star.
The filmy fabric of her dress floating in the light breeze, the rays of the sunset coating her in a golden glow.
A small smile teases at her glossy lips when she catches me staring again.
But I can’t help myself; she takes my breath away, and I’m finding it increasingly difficult to stick to our agreement.
I’m still smiling at her like a lovesick fool when her gaze shifts over my shoulder, and an icy mask descends like a storm cloud over her features.
Her cheeks pale and the smile that was directed at me moments ago disappears into a straight line.
I turn, finding Bruno standing in the archway that separates the foyer from the living area.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I growl.
“Who?” Gio asks, following my gaze.
But I don’t wait to answer him; instead, I cover the distance to my cousin in several quick, long strides.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demand, my fists clenched at my side.
Holding up his hands in a universal signal to stop, the asshole replies, “I was invited.”
“Well, let me be the one to personally uninvite you. Get the fuck out of my party. You’re not welcome.”
“What? Are you going to punch me again, Antonio?” His eyes dart sideways. “That was a simple misunderstanding that Lucia blew out of proportion. Besides, it’s ancient history.”
By nature, I’m not an aggressive person. But if pushed, I can certainly be that man. And my college boxing experience gives me the physical ability and skill to follow through on my threats.
Our last summer vacation in Capri, when I found Bruno and Lucia together, was the closest I’ve ever come in my life to causing serious injury. The memory comes flooding back.
Something was wrong. Lucia was fighting against him, and a red haze filled my vision. Her voice pleading for him to stop. Me running toward them like a madman.
“Get the fuck off her,” I shouted over and over as I dragged him away. I’d never been so out of control as I punched him in the gut, then, with a loud crack, his jaw, not stopping until he was crying like a baby and curled up into a ball on the tiles. Blood dripping from his mouth.
My only thought was to make him pay for daring to touch Lucia without her permission. The red fingerprints darkening her flawless skin and the tears streaming down her cheeks pushing me over the edge. I’ll never forget what he did that day, and I’ll definitely never forgive.
“Like fuck it was,” I grind out through my tight jaw before leaning in close to his face. “Now, before I throw you out like the trash you are. Leave.”
His eyes widen, the only movement he makes.
He’s counting on the fact I won’t do anything here, surrounded by family and friends.
He’s wrong. His mere presence shows a disrespect for my wife, and nobody gets to do that.
I’ve tolerated Bruno’s attendance at board meetings for the sake of the company, but this is personal.
“You heard my brother. Leave.” Gio’s voice booms from behind me, and I turn to see him, Leo, Nico, and even Dante forming a wall of support.
Dante steps forward. “It would be my pleasure to remove him, Antonio.” Then, getting right in Bruno’s face, he taunts, “I should probably only pick on someone my own size, but then you never played fair, did you?”
I grin at the look of horror on Bruno’s face as Dante towers over him, half a head taller and twice as broad across the shoulders. Dante deserves his chance at payback. And Bruno should be glad I don’t tell Dante exactly how much retribution he’s due for what he did to Lucia.
Bruno flinches, places his untouched glass of wine on a nearby table, and turns to leave without another word. Dante walks a couple of steps behind him, and I follow them with my eyes until they’re outside and the door is shut behind them. Anger still courses through my blood like a river of fire.
“Are you okay?” Gio asks with a hand on my shoulder.
I tilt my head in his direction. “I hate that fucker.”
“I know. And one day you might even tell me why.” Gio keeps his voice low.
“Who wants a drink?” Leo asks, always the one to calm things down by offering food or drink. And it usually works, but not this time. I need to find Lucia.
“Later,” I mumble before turning to look for my wife.
She’s moved, and as my gaze frantically darts around the faces, it snags on Franco Romano. His eyes are narrowed on me, and his mouth is curled into a sneer. I’ve got my answer as to who sent the invitation. But there’s no time to deal with him. Finding Lucia is my priority.
There are so many more people, most of whom I don’t know, crowded onto the terrace now. I notice Rose speaking to a bartender and dash toward her.
“Have you seen Lucia?” I ask, my pulse picking up.
Rose’s brow creases. “She was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all this.” Her perfectly manicured hand makes a sweeping gesture.
“But where did she go?” I insist, growing more worried by the second.
“The loggia.”
Of course, I should have guessed she’d go there. She’s told me in the past that she used to play there as a child. “Thanks.”
The loggia is along a gravel path that steps down the hillside. Far enough away from the villa that when I reach it, the voices on the terrace are a low murmur drowned out by the buzzing of bees around the nearby lavender blooms.
Lucia stands at the edge, leaning back against one of the rustic posts that support the heavy vines twisting through the beams above, with bunches of purple grapes dripping down in places.
“Lucia?” I call gently.
She startles, turning in my direction. Tracks of dried tears run down her cheeks.
“Oh, Luce.” In three steps, I’m beside her, wrapping my arms around her shaking body. She buries her face into my chest as my fingers brush through her hair. “He’s gone.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs, and a shuddering breath heaves her slim shoulders.
With one finger, I tip her chin up to face me. “Hey, we may not have a traditional marriage, but when I vowed to protect you, I meant it. You’re my wife, and I’ll never let him hurt you again.” The rest of the words disappear as I drown in two pools of forest green.
“I know,” she whispers, her hand reaching up my chest, then sliding farther to curl behind my neck.
My head drops, and her face tilts up, our lips meeting somewhere in between. It all happens in slow motion until the moment we touch.
A flame ignites in my chest with one taste of her sweet wine-infused lips, and I’m addicted. A hunger in my gut rips through me like never before. I want to swallow her soft moan, breathe in her next breath as her mouth opens and our tongues tease and taste.
This is what I’ve longed for since Vegas, and now isn’t the right place, but still, I don’t pull back.
The tug of Lucia’s fingers in the back of my hair tells me she needs this, and if I’m honest, so do I.
Even if it’s only for a moment that helps her forget about seeing Bruno.
Or for a moment when it feels like she’s mine.
I’ll take any time I can with her in my arms.
Reluctantly, I drag my lips from hers and pepper light kisses to the pulse point below her ear. “Fuck. Do you feel what you do to me?” I whisper as I pull her closer. Not an inch separating our bodies from shoulder to thigh, my cock a rod of steel between us.
“It’s difficult not to.” Her breathing is as choppy as mine.
I gather a handful of her silky hair in my palm, something I’ve been itching to do ever since she walked out of her room at the hotel looking like a beautiful goddess.
She tilts her head to the side, giving me unfettered access to the long column of her neck.
The skin here is as soft as silk against my lips and smells like I’ve buried my nose in a bunch of wildflowers.
I fill my lungs with her scent and become dizzy from not wanting to release the air again.
“We should return to the party,” I murmur, between the tiny string of kisses I’m trailing up and down her neck. It isn’t what I want to do, but taking my wife back to our hotel suite and making love to her for the first time is a line we can’t cross. Not yet.
“Hmm” is all the response I get.
“Is that a yes or a no?” I tease, enjoying how she seems as reluctant as me to stop.
“It’s more that I don’t want to, but I guess we should. After all, it is our party.”
I lift my head and release her hair to fall back in a curtain, covering her neck and hiding the little red marks I’ve just put there.
Then, cupping her jaw in my palm, I rest my forehead against hers. “I guess we’d be missed.”
“I guess. But we can leave after we cut the cake.”
The lines of strain that marred her forehead when I first found her in the loggia have disappeared, and a gentle smile has softened her tight lips.
“Let’s go cut some cake, then.”
And true to her word, we don’t stay much longer.