Chapter Fourteen #4
“Oh, yeah.” Actually, I’d forgotten he told me the room number already. I clear my throat. “So, if I called that hotel and asked for your room number, they’d connect me to your room?”
He hesitates. “I assume so. But why would you call the hotel when you can call my cell?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I want to send you flowers.”
He laughs. “You want to send me flowers?”
“Maybe. Who knows?”
He narrows his eyes. “Is everything okay, Elio? You seem a little tense.”
“Everything is great,” I lie.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
He studies me through the phone, looking unconvinced. “Promise me everything is okay?”
I nod. “Of course. What could be wrong?”
“I’m not sure. You just seem… off,” he says.
“No, I had a perfectly good day.”
“Did you?” He frowns. “Even without me there with you?”
I smile. “Yes. Believe it or not, I can function without you, Marcello.”
“I don’t like hearing that,” he grumbles.
“I’m not saying I like it when you’re not here,” I admit softly. “I miss you.”
His eyes darken. “Wish I was there with you. I thought about you a lot today.”
“Did you?” I can’t help the way my pulse races at the heat in his voice.
He lifts his phone higher, adjusting the pillow behind his head. Then with a smirk, he runs his hand down his chest and abdomen, stopping to loosen the towel around his waist. “I especially thought about you in the shower.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yep,” he says softly. “I also think about you when I wake up and when I go to bed every night.”
“Sounds like I’m on your mind a lot,” I murmur.
“You are,” he rumbles. “If I wasn’t coming home soon, I’d have to buy more lube.”
I laugh, cheeks warm. “Geez, Marcello.”
He peers closer at his screen. “Fuck, I love it when you blush, Elio. Makes me hard.”
“Seems like everything makes you hard.”
Does Sandro make you hard?
That unpleasant thought has jealousy jolting through me, overriding the pleasure I felt at flirting with him. I’m too confused and anxious that he’s been lying to me to enjoy the moment. My mind can’t help going where I don’t want it to go.
“I… I played tennis today with Giulia,” I blurt.
He blinks, obviously thrown by the sudden change of subject. “Did you?” It’s clear he’s confused about why I interrupted our sexy banter to tell him that, but he goes with it. “Did you have fun?”
“Yes. Giulia is always fun.” I hesitate. “Salvatore was there again too.”
“Was he?” His voice sharpens.
I nod. “He was.”
He looks tense suddenly, but I’m not sure why. “Seems like he’s always there when you’re there.”
I shrug. “I think he’s just always there.”
“That might be true,” he says. A short silence falls and he says quietly, “I really do miss you, tesoro.”
My heart squeezes because I want so much to believe he loves me and only me. “Do you?”
“So much it hurts,” he says, rolling onto his side. The way he looks at the screen, his eyes dark with emotion, it makes me feel guilty for doubting him.
“I miss you too,” I whisper. “I wish you were here with me.” And I mean it.
I mean every word of it. It’s because I love him so much I’m easily influenced by my insecurities.
Maybe instead of giving in to them, I should talk to Marcello about them.
Otherwise the bad thoughts will fester. Didn’t I learn my lesson with the Beppe incident?
“I’ll be home soon,” he says huskily.
We stare at each other in silence for a few moments.
“Can… can I ask you something, Marcello?” I’m breathless as I gather my courage.
“Of course.” He frowns, picking up on my anxiety. “What’s wrong?”
“Well…” I lick my lips. “Someone at the club thought they saw you last night. Here in Sorrento Bay at Adriatico’s, having… having dinner with Sandro Lucchese.”
An angry scowl appears instantly, and he sits up on his elbow. “That’s a lie. Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter who. It… it’s not true, right?”
“Elio,” he rumbles. “Of course it’s not true. I’m in Philadelphia. Tell me who said that to you.”
I don’t want to get Salvatore in trouble. He already admitted he was probably mistaken, and I know how vindictive Marcello can be. “I’m not going to tell you who said it because they meant well. I’m… I’m just relieved to know it’s not true.”
“Elio, of course it’s not true,” he growls. “I haven’t seen Sandro since the night he came to my home to plead for his mother’s life.”
I wrinkle my brow. “Why would Sandro need to plead for his mother’s life?”
He watches me through the phone, seemingly weighing whether to be honest or not. At last he says, “Sandro’s mother, Valentina, was involved in the attack on you.”
I bug my eyes, staring at him in shock.
He lets out a harsh breath. “I didn’t want you to know because the less you know the better. But I can’t have you thinking I’m having an affair with Sandro just because you saw us together that night.”
“Okay,” I mumble, still in shock at what he’s telling me. Valentina had seemed like such a nice lady. She’d smiled and been sweet to me at the wedding. To hear she’d wanted me dead the whole time is beyond horrifying.
“I did spare her life out of respect for Sandro, but that was the last time I saw him, Elio. I need you to believe me.”
“Sandro’s mother really tried to have me killed?”
“Yes.” He grimaces. “She’s a foolish woman who took things too far because she loves her son. I spared her life, but I punished her family financially.”
“I see,” I mumble, still in shock.
“Elio,” Marcello’s voice has a frustrated note to it. “Won’t you ever trust me?”
I meet his gaze, feeling ashamed. “I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “You don’t have to be sorry. I just wish you believed how much I love you. I don’t want anyone but you. I swear on my life.”
Hanging my head, I admit, “I’ve never had anyone love me like that.”
“Well, you do now.” His gaze gentles. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I do you, mio. You must believe me. I’ll never betray you. Never.”
I’m ashamed I let those suspicious thoughts in.
Difficult or not, I need to trust Marcello.
As far as I know, he’s only been loyal to me.
A lack of trust will destroy us. It’s not fair to doubt him when he’s only shown me love and loyalty so far.
I don’t know who Salvatore saw the other night, but it wasn’t Marcello.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I say.
He lets out a shaky breath. “You can trust me, Elio. I won’t let you down.”
“Come home to me soon, Marcello,” I whisper. “I need you with me.”
He rumbles, “Mi manchi più di ogni altra cosa, amore mio. Tornerò presto da te.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, desperate to know.
His smile is tender. “I said I miss you more than anything, my love. I’ll come back to you soon.”
My throat tightens. I only know a handful of Italian words, but I know enough to respond, “Anch’io, Marcello.” Which means me too.
His smile is pleased. “Are you learning Italian for me?”
Wincing, I murmur, “A little. Don’t get your hopes up too much.”
He sighs. “When it comes to you, mio, they can’t get any higher.”