Chapter 5
Francesca
Carlo and Giselle's place was beautiful. And while it wasn't as big as Stefan's castle—it was still huge.
It took us all a while to unpack the kids and get everyone sort of settled.
Carlo announced that he'd called the nanny service.
Giselle fought him tooth and nail on it, but Nick stepped in and calmly said, “We were up all night, Giselle.
Might I remind you that includes Francesca, too.
Francesca, who's supposed to be on her honeymoon.
Helping out is one thing—but twenty-four-seven care is something completely different.
We're getting some nannies in here to help. Not to take over.” He emphasized that part.
“Just to help and be the extra sets of hands we need right now.”
Then Giselle burst into tears and apologized profusely to me for ruining my honeymoon.
Poor Giselle.
This baby needed to come.
And soon.
Anyway, the nannies eventually arrived. All three of them. Eve and Giselle spent hours with them, discussing the kids and giving instructions on each one of them.
They also showed them to the guest house next door. It was considerably smaller, but the kids all had rooms there, too. Apparently, sometimes the kids had stayed there in the past with other nannies.
It seemed a little odd to me. But I hadn't exactly grown up rich. I'd never even seen a nanny before. Especially not professional, high-brow ones like these. They even wore uniforms.
But what really surprised me the most was that these parents would give up control over their kids. They all seemed very hands-on.
But, on the other hand, they did have the money to pay for excellent services to help them out.
And Nick had been right—we were all exhausted.
So, why not get some assistance when you needed it?
Giselle wouldn't look at Stefan, let alone speak to him. I felt bad for both of them.
Carlo and Giselle had yet another fight. This one was at the supper table. Over something stupid. Then Giselle ended up using the term “baby mama” again. Of course, that just ticked Carlo off even more.
Ugh.
Giselle stormed off, and I didn't see her for the rest of the evening.
Which was probably a good thing. Maybe she was getting some rest. Nick started helping me clean the kitchen while Eve went up to check on Giselle.
But I asked him to take Stefan out somewhere.
I could tell he was still on edge after what happened with Dani.
And Giselle not speaking to him probably wasn't helping.
“You're a good woman, Francesca,” Nick said. He gave me a hug, squeezing me tight. Before he let me go—he kissed my lips.
“Are you kissing my wife again, Nick?” Stefan's voice trailed into the kitchen, making me jump and try to push Nick away. But he wouldn't budge.
“I'm trying to. But her lips are tight.” He smiled at me. “Tight but soft.” His eyebrow raised slightly, and he said, “Give me a proper kiss before I take your husband into town. Please, Francesca?”
Stefan walked up to us. “We're going into town? For what?”
Nick looked at him. “Your wife wants a few things. Personally, I think she's trying to get rid of you.” He and Nick both chuckled. “But first, I want a real kiss.”
Stefan set his hand on my back. “Kiss him, Chesca. It's okay.” Then Stefan leaned down and kissed me. “That's what we do. Just one kiss.” Stefan kissed me again. “It'll make me happy. And you like to make me happy, right?”
His words made me instantly wet.
Nick didn't give me time to answer.
Or to think.
He touched his lips to mine—
And I opened.
For him.
And for my husband.
Nick moaned when our tongues touched.
And my lower belly clenched.
Hard.
It was a nice, gentle kiss.
Nick didn't take it to the next level. Although this level seemed very inappropriate as it was.
Nick finished our kiss and smiled. “That was lovely. Thank you.”
Then he let go of me. “I'll pull the car up to the front,” he said, and walked out of the kitchen.
Stefan stepped up to where Nick had just been. His arms circled around me. “Did you like that?” he asked, his eyes dancing around my face.
“Kissing Nick? Or pleasing you?”
He laughed and gave me a devilish smirk. “Yes,” he answered.
I sighed and rolled my eyes at his teasing. But I had to admit—it was nice to see him out of his funk. And I guess if all it took was kissing Nick—it was a small price to pay.
Not that it was really any price at all. Kissing Nick had been—fun.
And naughty.
I didn't even feel guilty about Eve. After all—I knew exactly what Nick’s wife was doing behind his back. And it was a whole lot more than one open-mouthed kiss in the kitchen.
Besides—my—husband was right there watching.
“I'm serious. Did you enjoy kissing Nick? Did it excite you?”
My mouth dropped open, and I pushed against his chest. “You're rude.”
Very unsurprisingly, Stefan wasn't the least bit put off.
Nope.
All he did was laugh. And kiss me. “I'll give you one more chance to tell me the truth. And then I'm going to check for myself.” He lowered his voice and asked, “Did kissing Nick excite you?”
Gosh.
His voice.
His words.
My head was swimming.
“Now, Francesca. Answer me. Now. Or there will be consequences.” His hand slid to my ass and squeezed.
I felt a deep shiver run through me. Because I liked that.
And I loved Stefan's consequences. But I also loved doing what he asked me to do.
I loved pleasing him.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“Yes, what?” Stefan asked firmly. He wanted me to spell it out for him.
“Kissing Nick excited me,” I told my husband the truth. I told him—that I'd gotten off on kissing his best friend.
Stefan didn't appear to mind. Not one bit.
His lips quirked up into a grin. “Good,” he breathed out. “That makes me happy.” His lips touched mine softly. “I want to feel how much.” One hand left my behind and slipped under my skirt. “Open your legs for me, Francesca.”
I did what he asked. His fingers wandered between my thighs and dragged my wet panties to the side.
I gasped and held onto his shoulders as his finger entered me—easily.
Stefan chuckled to himself as he moved his finger in and out of me. “You told the truth. That makes me very happy.” In an instant, he pulled his finger out of me—and into his mouth. I watched as he sucked my wetness off his finger—savoring it.
“You are so perfect.”
And with that, he turned and walked out the same way Nick had gone.
Holy.
Cow.
That was a lot.
Somehow, I managed to continue with cleaning the kitchen.
Not long after, Carlo wandered in. He looked around. “Nobody's helping you clean up? What a bunch of assholes.”
I smiled and rinsed off one of the large bowls. “It's fine. There's not much left to do.” Which was a total lie. The kitchen looked like a bomb had gone off. But the thought of having Carlo alone with me in the kitchen—or alone anywhere for that matter—made me feel kind of weird.
I'd seen the man naked. And I'd watched him fuck his best friend's wife.
As I touched myself while I watched them.
And Carlo had no idea.
And he never would.
But of course, he started helping me.
All these men were good in the kitchen. And that was great. Except when you were attempting to avoid one of them.
“The kids will be over at the guest house for a while. It'll be good for Giselle to have quiet. At least until she delivers.”
I nodded and bit my lip. “The nannies seem nice. Dani really liked one of them.”
Carlo took a platter from me and started drying it. “Yeah, she's helped us out before.” He set the platter down and leaned on both hands against the counter. “You think we're shitty parents. Don't you?” He turned his handsome face to me.
Gosh.
Carlo could pass for a broody lumberjack.
I laughed quietly. “No, I don't. That's an odd thing to ask me.” I picked up the salad tongs and dropped them in the water.
“Well, I think we're shitty parents for calling in a bunch of nannies.”
That made me laugh right the heck out loud. Now I was leaning on my arms in front of the sink, unable to catch my breath.
When I glanced over at Carlo, he was staring at me and smiling.
Gosh.
That man could smile.
Why did I feel that grin through my entire body?
“You're not a shitty dad, Carlo. You're the opposite of a shitty dad.” I pushed away from the edge of the sink and started washing the salad tongs.
“Do you know what a shitty dad does?” I rinsed the tongs off and handed them to Carlo.
“He allows his daughter to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Now that—” I picked up a wine glass and carefully plunged it into the sink, “is a shitty dad.”
Carlo's head dropped forward, and he shut his eyes. “That's not shitty. That's nonexistent.”
I nodded and washed the glass. “Yeah, that pretty much explains my entire childhood.” And it did. It really, really, really did.
“I'm sorry, Francesca. I wish I could go back in time and make that better for you. I really do.”
Carlo's voice was so sincere.
And kind.
It almost made me forget the fact that he was cheating on his very pregnant wife.
I shrugged and rinsed off a large platter. “Whatever. Everyone gets what they get. And in the end,” I handed the dripping platter to Carlo, and he took it, “it doesn't really matter. You do the best with what you have and move on.” Wasn't that the truth? After my dad's latest stunt—that was it.
Like.
It.
No more.
He was out of my life.
I was done.
Done, done.
“No, Francesca. That's not how it is. Or how it fuckin' should be. Your dad's an asshole for treating you like that. And then you stuck by him—” Carlo shook his head and dried the platter. “You're a hell of a lot stronger than I am. I never would have stayed.”
I let out a loud, sharp laugh. “Not strong, Carlo. Stupid. Really, really, really stupid.”
Carlo's hand clasped around my wrist. And I swear to you—my lower belly started aching. I could feel his touch zing through me like lightning. Goosebumps formed over my skin, and I shivered.
I freaking—shivered.
Just at his touch.
Yeah. I had issues.
“Don't say that about yourself. If there's something I've learned about you—” His gaze dragged over my face. “It's that you're the complete opposite of that.” He shook his head. “I've watched you with the kids. And with my brother. And how you've pitched in and cared for my fiancée.”
Were his eyes getting wet?
“And it takes a special person to do that. Most women would have sent us all packing the second we showed up on your doorstep.”
I let out a quiet laugh and picked up a bowl to wash. Carlo refused to let my wrist go, though. “No, I would never do that. But your brother wanted to.”
Carlo's hand tightened around my wrist. “If I were my brother,” Carlo's voice was low and deep—and growly. “I would never have opened that fucking door. I'd want you all to myself. With no one else around.” Carlo's eyes stared into mine so intensely I forgot how to breathe.
Holy.
Cow.
My lady parts immediately started throbbing.
“Well,” I said, “it's a good thing Stefan is who he is then. Otherwise,” Carlo finally let my wrist go, and I started washing the bowl, “you guys would have had nowhere to go during your fake plumbing crisis.”
Carlo laughed and leaned his behind against the cupboard. Suddenly, his fingers were under my chin, and he tipped it up. “My brother's right.” His thumb glided over my lips. “That smart mouth of yours is fucking hot.”
Good.
Grief.
My poor, poor, poor panties.
First, it was Nick.
And now Carlo.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Whatever,” I said, and went back to washing the bowl. Carlo just laughed again.
What.
Ever.