“Climb in that bath and relax while I make dinner, angioletto. Once we’ve both eaten, things won’t seem so overwhelming.”
She released me with a halfhearted smile and an “Okay.”
But as I left the bathroom, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was pulling away from me. Something I deserved after all the shit I’d put her through.
I wouldn’t let that happen. I knew exactly how to prevent it. And how to prove to her I was still the man she remembered.
Natalie barely ate.
Wrapped in the plush white bathrobe I’d left for her on the bed, she mostly pushed her pasta around on her plate. She didn’t even drink her wine, something that was unlike her. The woman liked a good glass of wine as much as I did.
Sensing she wasn’t in the mood to talk, I finally took pity on her and sent her to bed, telling her I’d clean up. She’d argued for all of two seconds before giving in and disappearing up the stairs. Another thing that was completely out of character for my spunky brunette.
I took my time cleaning up the kitchen. Not wanting to wake her, I stayed downstairs when I was done, poured myself a glass of whisky, and moved into the living room where I flipped on the news.
It had been weeks since I’d paid attention to what was going on in the world. I listened for anything related to Italy and my House, but the only thing of remote interest was a segment about the president of Italy attending a fundraiser thrown by a politician I knew was in deep with our House. Odds were good my father had been there, but I flipped off the TV before it panned to video of the party, not wanting to see his face.
For a minute, I sat in the dark with the glass against my thigh and just let the silence surround me. I’d never particularly liked the quiet. It was when the past crept in, reminding me of all the things I could never escape. But tonight, I didn’t run from those memories. I let each one wash over me, and I separated the events from the emotions they generated, just as Abigail had taught me to do.
Without those emotions, without the guilt and the shame and even the fear, I could see better. I could remember more clearly. And I could recognize the past for what it was—done and behind me.
I couldn’t change it. But I couldn’t deny it either. Every single thing I’d done and seen and been had shaped me into the man I was now. Into the man I’d been denying these last few weeks. Into the man Natalie didn’t see as a monster, but as a hero.
I almost laughed at that thought. I’d never consider myself a hero, but I did believe now that she was right in a way. I wasn’t my father. I wasn’t like the men in my House. I’d never be holy in any sense of the word, but that didn’t mean I was evil. I was just human. I was me. I made mistakes.
For years, I’d wished I could change the past, but now... Now I knew I wouldn’t, even if I could. Because every one of those mistakes I’d made along the way had led me to Natalie.
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do about my House. I wasn’t convinced I was destined for something important as Marco wanted me to believe. The only thing I knew for certain was that being with Natalie, marrying her—loving her—was the one thing in this life I was absolutely meant to do. And I wasn’t about to fuck it up this time. I was going to make it right.
She was sound asleep when I stepped in the room, lying on her side, facing the small sitting area, her cheek on the pillow, hands tucked up by her angelic face. I was quiet as I moved around, not wanting to wake her. The room was a little cold, so I lit a fire in the old stone fireplace and tugged the drapes closed to keep out the chill. And then, still not tired, I tugged off my shirt and sat in the high-back chair across from her and just watched her sleep.
I watched the way her chest rose and fell under the ribbed tank she was wearing and the way her soft lips parted as she breathed. I even watched the way her eyelids fluttered. And when the corners of her lips tipped up, I hoped like hell she was dreaming of me.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, but the room was considerably warmer when she shifted beneath the comforter, and so was I. Hot, everywhere. Burning with an unquenchable desire to prove to her things were better. I was better. That I hadn’t forgotten how to remind her she was mine.
“L-Luc?” She pushed up on one hand and blinked rapidly, her cute little brow furrowed as she glanced over the bed, then twisted, squinting in the red glow of the firelight to look for me.
A relieved look filled her eyes when she spotted me in the chair. She sat up and pushed the curls back from her sleepy face. “There you are.” She yawned. “What are you doing over there? Come to bed.”
Another wave of heat rolled through my groin, but I didn’t move. Just lifted the whisky in my hand and sipped as I continued to watch her. And I saw the moment she recognized the look in my eye. I saw by the way her whole body came full awake and a flush darkened her cheeks.
She threw the covers back and slid to her feet, wearing nothing but that fitted ribbed tank that showed off her curves, the swell of her breasts, and those low-rise lace panties I’d wanted to strip from her body earlier with my teeth. Before she could even take a step, though, I said, “Uh-uh, angioletto. I want you on your knees.”
My beautiful little bride blushed even deeper, but the smile that curled her lips was all the encouragement I needed to tell me this was exactly what she wanted. What we needed.
Her eyes—those gorgeous blue gems that hadn’t wanted to look at me earlier—stayed locked on mine as she crawled across the carpet toward me. When she reached me, she pushed up on her knees and laid her palms on my thighs.
I pushed the glass of whisky into her hand. “Drink this.”
She took a sip and tried to hand the glass back to me, but I wouldn’t let her.
“No, drink all of it.” I helped her lift it back to her lips. “I want you feeling good when I touch you, angioletto. Because I plan to touch you everywhere tonight, and I might not be able to control myself when I do.”
A very satisfied sigh slipped from her lips. Still watching me, she tipped her head back and swallowed the two or so shots in the glass. Then she winced and pressed the back of her hand against her mouth. “That burns.”
It didn’t even come close to the burn inside me.
I took the glass from her and set it behind my chair. “Do you know what I’ve been thinking about while I’ve been sitting here, watching you sleep?”
She shook her head and slid her hands back over the denim at my thighs, her eyes glowing with heat and need in the low light. “What?”
I leaned forward and fingered her silky curls. “I’ve been thinking about you and how sexy you are.” I tugged her toward me. “How hard you make me.” I lowered my lips to hers, sliding my tongue into her mouth for a quick, sinful taste. “And just how tight and slick and perfect you are between your shapely legs.”
I pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her lips. “I want to see it. I want to see that tempting pussy that belongs to me. Show me, angioletto.”
She blushed at my order but pushed to her feet and reached for the lace at her hips.
“Not like that.” I stopped her with my fingers around her wrist. “Sit back on the floor. I want to watch you from right here.”
A soft moan escaped her lips as she lowered herself to the carpet in front of me, her pebbled nipples already straining against the cotton of her tank, her pulse racing at her throat. Placing both hands on the carpet behind her, she drew her feet in and pressed her knees together as she leaned back.