Chapter 6
Francesca
Carlo was a huge help with cleaning the kitchen. As he should be, I guess. It was his kitchen, after all.
When we were done, he thanked me and said, “I'll be outside if you want to sit for a while.” I watched him reach into a tall cupboard and pull out a bottle of whiskey and two short glasses. Then he wandered out the patio doors, closing them behind him.
I puttered around in the kitchen for a while. Mostly taking stock of where everything was and what we'd need to grab from the grocery store tomorrow.
A delivery person had arrived with some groceries earlier. But this food wouldn't last long. Not with how many people we had to feed.
I was about to go upstairs and get ready for bed when I looked out at Carlo on the patio.
He tossed his glass back, draining it in one gulp.
Then he slammed the glass down on the table and dropped his head into his hands.
He leaned on his elbows that dug into his thighs—taking the same distressed position Stefan had earlier in our bedroom back at the castle.
My heart hurt for him. Even though he was a great big cheater.
I mentally kicked myself for what I was about to do. Because I knew what I should do—and that was go upstairs, shower, put on something sexy for my husband, and get into bed.
“You are so dumb,” I whispered to myself—and headed out to the patio.
Carlo's head immediately lifted and turned to me. A big, handsome grin crossed his face. “You came,” he said, his eyes looking me up and down. His head nodded to the chair beside him. “Sit.” And then he poured an inch or so of dark amber liquid into the two glasses.
Knowing full well I should—not—be sitting down with Carlo—I did it, anyway. Something inside wouldn't allow me to just ignore this hulking lumberjack.
“Thanks,” I said and sat. I pushed the glass he'd given me over to him. “Not a big fan. But you go ahead.”
Carlo looked at the glass—then at me. His eyes glided over nearly every inch of me before he said, “I'll be right back.
Don't move.” He shoved his chair back and walked into the house.
It was twilight outside, the time of day when the sky couldn't make up its mind.
The air was still warm as I looked out onto the rows and rows of vines surrounding us.
I heard footsteps behind me, and then Carlo's voice saying, “Here, you'll love this. I promise.” Carlo handed me a glass of pretty pink wine. Our fingers touched during the exchange—and that same zing happened.
“It's so—pink,” I said and picked it up. I was about to take a sip when Carlo stopped me. “Sniff it first, Francesca. Give it a moment to penetrate your senses.”
Okay, yes.
My lady parts might have started aching when Carlo said the word “penetrate.” But of course, I ignored that.
And sniffed the wine as Carlo instructed.
“Mm, strawberry?” I asked, bringing it back to my nose for another quick sniff. “And some kind of citrus?”
Carlo seemed pleased with my assessment. “Very good. Now you may take a sip. A small sip.” Carlo was bossy.
And unfortunately—I liked that. Even more than the wine.
“It's lovely, Carlo. Is it yours?” I asked, already knowing the answer. We were on his freaking vineyard after all.
“Yes.” He set the bottle down beside him. It was then that I noticed a small plate of grapes and cheese on the table. I reached for it, but Carlo pulled it away. I frowned at him. “You don't share?” I asked in a snarky voice.
It didn't seem to bother him, though.
Nope.
Carlo laughed and picked up a grape between his fingers. “Oh, Francesca.” His dancing eyes held mine as he brought the grape to my lips. “Don't worry. I share.”
My poor, poor, poor lady parts. And my poor, poor, poor panties.
“Open for me, Francesca.” Carlo's words made me shiver. His fingertips brushed my lips as I—opened—for him.
Yeah.
I was definitely going to need a new pair of panties.
Carlo's face changed the instant I allowed him to slide the grape in between my lips. He looked just like Stefan did when he fed me.
Next, he grabbed a small piece of cheese off the plate and held it up to my lips. Like a stupid idiot—I opened for him again.
Carlo sighed, and his shoulders visibly relaxed. “You have no idea how much I need to do this, Francesca. No. Idea.”
Yep.
These panties were trash.
“Drink.” He looked down at my glass, giving me permission to take a sip. So, I did—with his eyes taking in every movement. Every swallow.
“I'll take you on a tour of the grounds tomorrow,” he said, jerking his head out at his land.
“If your husband lets you out of his sight, that is.” Carlo grinned at me and lifted his glass.
Now it was my turn to watch him drink. It was fascinating, I had to admit.
My eyes took in Carlo's strong neck as he swallowed.
A large part of me understood now why Eve jumped this man any time she could.
Sheesh.
I needed to get my mind out of the gutter. And quick.
“I think I know something that might help you with Giselle.”
Carlo gave me a surprised look. He tilted his head. “What do you suggest?”
I sat back and took another sip of Carlo's wine from my glass. “I think you need to marry her.”
Carlo popped a grape into his mouth and smiled. “Already asked her to marry me, Francesca,” he said with a small laugh. From his expression, he seemed to be happy with that decision. Which confused me even more about why he was fucking his best friend's wife.
“No, I mean now. Like—” I leaned over for emphasis, “now.”
He sighed and picked up his glass. “She doesn't want to get married right now. She wants to wait until she can fit into her dress.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I know that. And you can do that, too. But you can also marry her now, before the baby's born. Prove your intentions. And then have the big wedding she wants later on.”
I suggested this for two reasons. For one—part of me wanted to see if Carlo was actually serious about marrying Giselle. Especially since he was spending a lot of his time inside her best friend.
And I also suggested a quick marriage because I really liked Giselle. And I was sure she'd kick this man to the curb one day. And if I played a small part in it by guaranteeing she and her kids had a great life—with a ton of money to fund that great life—then so be it.
“And what if I plan all of this—” he poured more whiskey into his glass, “and she gets mad at me?”
I couldn't help the laughter that escaped. It bubbled up and out before I could stop it. “Um, it seems like she's pretty much pissed off at you twenty-four-seven as it is. What difference would it make?”
He looked off into the night and sighed.
“It wasn't always like this, Francesca. Giselle and I—” his words got caught in his throat for a second or two.
“Giselle and I have been to hell and back.
I'm sure she'll tell you about it sometime.
I know I sure as fuck won't. No way I'm ever going back there again.”
He looked back at me. “But we found each other. Even after all the shit we went through. She's my world, Francesca. She's my everything.”
Wow.
This guy should absolutely win the award for best actor. Unless he really did love Giselle this much, but somehow thought it was okay to fuck her best friend on the side, too.
Honestly, it didn't matter to me how he justified it.
Just as long as Giselle got what she needed in the end. “I'll help you plan it. We can do it as soon as possible. Do you have a prenup ready to go?” I asked, once again testing him—seeing what kind of man he really was.
I didn't have to wait long.
Carlo laughed his head right off.
And for a long time.
That man laughed until tears rolled down his cheeks, and he could hardly breathe.
“Prenup?” He stared at me and shook his head. “There's no fucking prenup, Francesca. Giselle is my entire world. If she leaves, my world leaves, too. Do you not understand that? I don't give one fuck about the money. She can have all of it. All I fucking want is her.”
Well, the man sounded convincing. And he definitely looked the part of a man in love. But I'd also seen him inside of Eve enough to know he wasn't all that genuine.
So, since I was all about helping a girl out—I said, “Then you marry her tomorrow. I'll help you plan it.” After that, I said something that was sure to push him over the edge. “And as a bonus, she'll never be able to call you her baby daddy again.”
The look of aggravation in his eyes was palpable.
Carlo took a long, long swallow of his whiskey and set the glass down on the table. “Good.” He peered at me and nodded. “Let's do it.”