Like I once was, before Piero was ripped from me. I swallow my pain and shove it back to the dark burial place in my mind.
Tavi kisses my cheek. It feels like betrayal. A soft, teasing, seductive betrayal.
“Then if you don’t like being punished, Elise, you’d better watch that mouth of yours.”
I nod, because I want to cry. I hate how little control I have in any of this.
To my surprise, he draws in a deep breath, as if imbibing my scent or gathering his strength. I don’t always understand him. Hell, I rarely understand him.
Without warning, he releases me and turns away.
Okay, that was intense.
“It doesn’t matter if you eat breakfast or not. It’s nearly lunchtime.”
Wait, lunchtime?
I stretch my arms up over my head, and don’t realize how far the T-shirt I wear travels until I see his hungry eyes on my ass. I quickly put my arms down.
“Do you have any workout equipment here?” I ask. Maybe if I bring us back to the mundane, we can ignore the sexual tension that coats us like velvet, deep and sensual. “I miss my morning workout. But after I get some movement in, I’d probably like some lunch, thank you.”
I think of simple, real things. Gardens and dresses, sunsets and boats. I won’t think of being dominated. I won’t think of the wedding night that looms in my future.
I won’t think of Piero.
“We have excellent staff here, or I can take you out to eat if you’d like.” The velvet curtain begins to rise.
I really have missed the food in Tuscany. Even though the Rossi family’s Nonna cooks beautifully, it isn’t the same without the Tuscan backdrop.
“We do, yes, and I’ll have an escort bring you down there, but not until I’ve gotten you proper workout gear. You’ll wait for tomorrow, then.”
I nod. Not a point to argue on.
“Then if you don’t mind, I’d like a shower, and can you assign someone to take me for a walk? I love walking outside this time of year.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “The coroner won’t be ready until three, so I can take you for a walk.”
Great. Another chance to be near him. Just what I didn’t want.
I’m staring out the window at the way the leaves gently dance in the wind and can almost feel the breeze on my bare skin, when I hear the bed gently creak under his weight. “Go get your bag, Elise. Do you remember where it was?”
My pulse races when he commands me, at the way edicts flow off his tongue with ease, a natural leader if ever there was one. I shake my head.
“Check the closet.”
I look around the large room to locate the closet. Wow, is it gorgeous here. The room is big and airy, especially for Tuscany. Even though I grew up wealthy, my family’s homes in Tuscany were small and fairly cramped compared to America. This room’s decorated in authentic, timeless, beautiful Tuscan style—rustic but elegant and feminine, a mixture of wood and white. From the arched doorway, I can see a sitting room, and in here, visible wooden beams above me, streaked white as if a painter thought to soften the harshness with casual strokes of his brush. A small desk sits in one corner with an ornate pillow-topped seat, and instead of overhead lighting, elegantly curved lampshades complete the look. White shelves built into the walls adorn either side of the bed.
I take this all in briefly, as I don’t think it smart to keep Tavi waiting.
The closet’s tucked far in the corner.
“Wow,” I say softly, as I walk to the closet. “This room is beautiful.”
He nods formally. “Thank you. I hope you like it. This will be one of the rooms you stay in until we’re married.”
Until we’re married.
My heart skips a beat. I swallow, my throat and mouth dry, either from travel or nerves or both. I’ll share a room and a bed with him after we take our vows, my thoughts turning to our wedding night and his dark promises of rough sex. I turn my head so he doesn’t see my heated cheeks and change the subject.
“Do you know if I still have family in Tuscany?”
I hate that I don’t know. I’ve been so removed from everything that mattered in my life before my escape with Piero. In my mind, there are only two seasons of my life I’ve lived—life before Piero and after.
He doesn’t answer at first. When I see my luggage in the closet, I tug the wheeled suitcase out.
“I would’ve had staff unpack for you when we arrived, but you were so tired. And to answer your question, no. The Regazza family’s relocated to Lombardo.”
“Why?”
“They wanted distance from the Rossis.”
The stark feeling of being utterly alone hits me again. My family’s left me to keep distance from the Rossis, yet I’m as entrenched with them as possible. I have no siblings, my father’s dead and my mother’s long gone, but I did have aunts and uncles and cousins. Some of them meant something to me.
“You have a new family now, Elise.” There’s an edge to his voice that challenges me to defy him, to push against his absolute ownership of who I am.
I do have a new family now. I don’t know how I feel about that.
I don’t hate them. I don’t think I do, anyway. Angelina, my very best friend in the world, will be my sister-in-law, the man she loves, my brother-in-law. I like Vittoria, Romeo’s wife, and Tavi’s sisters. His mother is aloof, but there’s a certain strength to her I can’t help but admire. I know the other women adore her, but I don’t yet know why. I’m willing to find out.
And who doesn’t love portly, jovial, rosy-cheeked Nonna, with her wiseass cracks and broken English and incessant need to feed and nourish her brood. She’s the only woman the men defer to. Even Tosca doesn’t have the sway she does.
I never had the benefit of close companionship with women like me. I had nannies, and a few friends, but no sisters. When my father took a third mistress, my mother asked for a place of her own. On his insistence, she stayed married to him, but it’s only a formality.
The Rossi family’s different, though. Ruthless. Cruel, even. But they have something my family never had—the unbreakable bonds of family. They’re ride or die like no one I’ve ever met, for better or for worse.
I push the suitcase toward him and don’t respond. When he leans forward on the bed casually, his scent lingers like bottled sex. I’d bet money he buys his scent from Italy. Only Italian cologne could make a woman forfeit her panties, though the French are close contenders.
A girl could fall for a guy like him just by the way he smells.
I wonder what he’s up to.
“Open it up, and lay it all out.” His fingers lace together like he’s praying, but if he believes in God, I doubt they’re on good terms.
Obediently, I do what he says. I don’t remember what I packed, but he tossed a few things in here. I open the luxury case, revealing neat, pretty clothes, folded almost into little packets. I pull out a few pairs of jeans, some short-sleeved tops, some undergarments. On the right, I remove my flat iron and a bag of makeup, some flats, low-heeled boots, and silver sandals with a thick wedge heel. No workout clothes or bras. No sneakers. Dammit.
“I’ll need sneakers and a sports bra when you get the workout gear,” I tell him.