Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“Why didn’t you tell me we were flying to Italy to attend a party?” she asks belligerently.
I didn’t even know Nonna Isadora was throwing a party in my honor. I was just as surprised as she was when Matteo said it.
“Would it have changed anything?” I ask.
“No, but informing someone of a happy occasion in advance is common courtesy, something you are clearly a stranger to,” she mutters under her breath.
Dutch meets my eyes in the rearview mirror and immediately glances away. He sees the disrespect, and he’s shocked that I’m allowing it. On so many occasions, Dutch has watched me put women in their place for as little as looking at me the wrong way. He probably thinks I’m letting Francesca off the hook because she is my wife. That’s laughable. I don’t give a fuck about the title; it is the woman holding it.
I can tell she’s upset, and every fiber of my being wants to pull her into my arms and confess that I, too, didn’t know there would be a party, but my pride won’t let me. Until she stops assuming the worst of me, I won’t show any vulnerability. It will only give her more ammunition to attack me with. I sit still and let the gulf between us widen.
When we arrive at the house, the women are waiting outside. They move towards the Audi as it stops outside Palazzo della Seraphina. I climb out and hold Francesca’s hand to help her. In the full glare of the public, the brilliant smile is back on her face.
“Che bellezza,” Freya, Matteo’s wife, steps forward, pulling Francesca into her arms. “We are so happy to meet you. Welcome to the Barone family.”
Francesca hugs her affectionately. “Thank you.”
“I’m Freya,” she says. “I believe you’ve already met my husband, Matteo. He went to the airport with his brothers to welcome you.”
“Oh, yes,” Francesca laughs. “You’ve got one dreamy man there, Freya.”
Envy ravages my blood at her statement. Matteo is dreamy? I’m not a vain man, but even I know Matteo can never hold a candle to me in the looks department. But then again maybe she likes her men weak, like that freckled maggot, Thomas.
“Oh, come on.” Freya waves Francesca off, a slight blush on her cheek. “Come meet the others.” She turns to the women behind her.
“This is Serena, Federico’s wife. This is Isabella, Giuseppe’s wife. And this is Vica, a cousin of the family.”
As Freya introduces Francesca to the women, some of my uncles emerge from the house. Roberto approaches me, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s work to be done.”
I nod, remembering the urgent call I’d received from Zio Marco yesterday. “Have Zio Marco wait for me in the study,” I say, looking at the women. “Francesca and I will settle in, and I’ll be with you shortly.”
“It will be done.” Roberto nods and leaves with his brothers.
The women stop chatting and look at them. They are beaming with genuine happiness for me. They bestow their good wishes on me.
“Congratulations!”
“You look wonderful.”
“It’s so good to see you again.”
“You have married a beautiful bride.”
Vica pulls away from the other women. “Hello, Val,” she drawls, her voice sultry. She plasters herself against my body as she reaches up to kiss my cheek. She flutters her eyelashes and rubs up on me a little before pulling away.
“You look well,” she drawls.
Vica and I always fucked when our paths crossed. I’m aware she wants more from me, but I’ve never failed to let her know that would never happen. And right now, her cloying perfume repulses me, but I don’t pull away from her because I notice the fire in Francesca’s eyes as she watches us. I almost want to laugh at the territorial expression she’s trying so hard to mask.
Since I’m enjoying that more than the revulsion I feel for Vica, I let my hand momentarily slide down her hip. The movement makes Francesca’s teeth clench. Good!
“Thank you, cara.”
Vica’s eyes flare with shock because I’ve never called her by an endearment. She better enjoy this because it could well be the last time I do.
“Vica, let’s give Valentino and Francesca, his new wife, some privacy,” Freya says with a smile, but she pulls Vica’s arm with more force than necessary. “We’ll see you later, Valentino. Francesca.”
Francesca waves the women off as they leave.
“Follow me,” I say, and walk quickly into the house.
Chapter Ten
VALENTINO
Palazzo della Seraphina was handed down to me by my father, Vincenzo. It was given to him by his father, Oleo, and it has been passed down in this way across eleven generations. I lead Francesca past the grand foyer with fine frescoes depicting Italian mythologies on the curved ceiling, past the grand salon, and up the curving marble stairs. One of the steps is cracked, but no one would dream of replacing it. It is part of the house’s history, just like the dark mahogany furniture that glows with the patina of centuries of women lovingly polishing the wood.