Chapter 33
MARLENA
My head is swimming by the time we step into Luca’s town car for a second time.
I just want to go to sleep. I imagine myself crawling under the covers, pulling them up over my head, and passing out for a week.
Was it really only this morning that I was a single woman?
It feels strange to be sitting beside my husband.
My husband. Will I ever get used to that word?
Francisco looks over at me, concerned. “Are you feeling all right?”
“I’m just tired,” I mumble. The words don’t feel coherent. I drank too much at the party. One extra glass of wine has sent me over the threshold into something that resembles sleepwalking.
Francisco takes my arm and tucks it beneath his. This gives me permission to lay my head down on his shoulder, which I do. He’s so strong and resourceful. I don’t think I’ll ever be afraid when he’s next to me.
Sex is the furthest thing from my mind, but when we pull up to the villa, I realize that it’s my wedding night. I stumble out of the car and into the house while Francisco says goodbye to Luca. He tosses a protective glance at me as I move, but I’m too groggy to acknowledge it.
There are some bodyguards, or whatever the guys hanging around the house are called. I don’t even know what their jobs are. They sit in the living room watching soccer on TV. I weave past them, leaning up against the wall in the foyer to take my shoes off.
Francisco finds me there and helps me to my room. I’m grateful to him, and beyond the point of caring whether we go to bed or not, I could fall asleep right here in the hall.
“Can I help you undress?” he asks.
“Sure,” I murmur, opening the door to our bedroom to let him in.
Technically, this is my bedroom. Or maybe it’s his. I guess I’m actually sleeping in his bed and he’s using a guestroom. Who knows? The schematics are making my head hurt.
I toss the shoes on the floor and tug my earrings off. Francisco comes up behind me to undo my zipper. I give him a watery smile as I work my way out of the dress. It comes off with a swoosh and lands in a pool at my feet. I step out of it and find my way to the bed.
Sitting down, I turn around to face him. I’m not feeling very sexy, and I suspect I don’t look sexy either. Although Francisco is a man, he might not care. I straighten my shoulders, forcing my eyes to open wider. I’m doing my best.
He scoops the dress off the floor and drapes it over the dresser. I appreciate the fact that it’s very expensive, but I just can’t bring myself to care. I pat the bed next to me, licking my lips. It’s a poor imitation of a woman in heat, but it’s the best I can manage.
He follows my lead, sitting down. But instead of kissing me, he simply slides two fingers into my hair and undoes the clip. It’s almost climactic, the feeling I get when my hair is released. I didn’t realize there was so much tension, but the moment it’s gone, I get a rush of satisfaction.
“Oh, God,” I moan.
He laughs. “It’s easy to please you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, shaking my hair out. “I’m just really tired.”
“We don’t have to make love tonight,” he says. “In fact, we don’t have to make love ever again. I know you had some concerns about getting involved with me that way, even though you’ve put them aside in the past.”
“Shh,” I respond, placing a finger to his lips. “It’s not never. That would be silly.”
“It would be silly?” he asks, teasing me with his tone.
“Yeah,” I say, slurring the word. “It would be silly to say we can’t have sex after marriage when we did it on the patio where anyone could watch.”
“And in my office,” he reminds me.
I warm up at the mention of that morning, and I can feel my body begin to stir. But it’s got a long way to go before it can convince me that sex is better than sleep. I give him my best puppy dog eyes, and he sighs.
“Let me get your pajamas,” he says, standing.
I watch, helpless to assist him as he goes through my bags.
Thankfully, I don’t have any secrets from him.
Otherwise, it might be stressful to see him inspecting all my underwear.
He finds the pajamas, a new pair that he bought.
They aren’t quite as comfy as the ones I have back home, but they’ll do.
He tosses them on the bed beside me and then holds out his hands. I’m not sure what he wants me to do. He gestures for me to stand up. I roll my eyes, but do as I’m told. He helps me up and pulls me into a hug. Using the position to his advantage, he unlatches my bra.
I get the same fantastic rush from being half nude as I did from letting my hair down. Will wonders never cease. This night is turning into an orgasmic event, and he hasn’t even touched me.
Francisco picks up the pajama top from the bed and helps me into it. I feel like a child being dressed. He holds out the pajama bottoms, and I step into them, comforted instantly when I’m surrounded by soft flannel.
He scoops me up and carries me around to the side of the bed, using one hand awkwardly to push the covers aside. I hang on, laughing with the last of my strength. Then he sets me down, and I dig my toes beneath the sheets with mind-numbing pleasure.
Francisco pulls the covers up to my chin and kisses my forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
“Where are you going?” I ask.
He removes his tie and sits down next to me. “I’m going to my own room.”
“Stay,” I whisper.
“You need to sleep,” he responds.
“Sleep with me,” I argue.
He raises an eyebrow.
I give him a playful slap on the knee. “Sleep with me.”
He nods, accepting my proposal. Too well-mannered to sleep in his wedding suit, he stands up. I watch as he undresses and finds a pair of boxers and sweatpants in one of the drawers. He also puts on a long-sleeved shirt, so I can hardly tell if he’s going to sleep or going to work out.
I’m drifting, but I’m still enjoying the show. He’s got such amazing muscle tone, I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of seeing him naked.
He comes around the other side of the bed and slips under the covers. And then his warm arms encircle me, and I fall into his embrace. This bed feels like it’s the center of the galaxy. I don’t want anything else in my life. This is enough.
I fall asleep with my head on his chest, and dream of a lifetime of love. When I wake up, he’s gone. There’s a note on the pillow that says he’s gone to the airport to make sure the plane is ready, and that he’ll be sending a car for me around noon.
I reach for my phone, tapping it to wake it up. I’ve got about two hours to collect all my things and get ready. I’m still feeling tired, even though I slept the whole night. It was an amazing day yesterday, one that I’ll never forget.
I almost don’t want to leave. I haven’t really been able to do any sightseeing.
Here I am in Italy, and I didn’t even get to visit Rome.
But then I remember Brandon, and I know that I have to go back.
There’s still no word on whether he’s okay or not.
I trust Francisco at this point to tell me if something has changed.
I force myself to get up and wander over to the shower.
Maybe all I need is a blast of cold water to wake me up.
But before I step beneath the stream, I chicken out, and turn the dial all the way to the left.
Steam begins to rise, encouraging me to dive in.
I stand beneath the flow and scrub the remnants of last night’s party off my skin.