by L. D. Davis
“So…even though he divorced Celia, he stayed. He stayed for his kids,” I said, my voice quiet and dubious.
Tessa nodded and smiled sadly. “Yes, and let’s be honest here. He also did it to spite me.”
“Even honorable men can be stupid,” Salina muttered.
“Before his diagnosis, he realized he could not continue to drag things out. Celia was too comfortable in their false relationship, and the children were a little older. So, he quietly began to prepare to put things to an end once and for all, but then he got sick. His future was not so clear anymore, and the last thing he wanted was to inflict any further damage on his family. So, he stayed. Again. When he’s better, he’ll go.”
“What do you mean by that? I thought he was dying—he said it himself that he’s dying.”
I was very sympathetic to Massimo’s plight, but at the same time, I was rather aggravated that Marco didn’t know the truth. I tried to keep my voice level and not accusatory.
“And why hasn’t he told any of this to Marco? Marco thinks his brother is knocking on death’s door, which is why he’s trying so hard to be Celia’s own personal superhero. Not to mention, it’s tearing him up inside. Why would Massimo keep any of it from him? Not just his illness, but everything. His marriage—all of it.”
“They have not exactly had the best relationship over the last twenty years,” Tess reminded me. “And maybe he is not…knocking on death’s door, as you say, but he is close enough. He is terminally ill. This disease is a killer, and the side effects from the treatments are horrendous. You were not here before. You did not see how sick he was. If you did, you would believe he was dying, too. You would hate to admit it, but you would be foolish to deny the possibility.”
By the time she finished, her chest was heaving, her cheeks were red, and her eyes were fiery with indignation. Tess, who I’d always thought of as kind and gentle had a fierceness in her voice that could cut a person down.
“I did not tell you all of these very private things about Massimo so you can judge him or question his motives. I gave you much more than you needed to know. What you needed to know, Lydia, is that Celia is not married to Massimo, and she thinks he is dying, and maybe he is. Probably he is,” she said, her voice breaking. “Furthermore, she is a heartless and manipulative bitch who does not care about you, your children, your baby, or the life you want to build with Marco. She has no reason to hold back. She has nothing to lose.”
A few minutes later, Tess took her son and left with muttered apologies and tears shining in her eyes, thus ending our sociable day. Salina tried to apologize for Tess’s harshness, but I waved it off. I wasn’t offended. It was clear to anyone willing to pay attention that she loved Massimo. He was more than a friend to her, much more, and she’s had to pretend right along with him and his so-called wife, and she had told me much more than I’d needed to know.
It was early evening when we returned to the estate. The house was quieter than I’d ever heard it. Elena and Francesca were seated at the kitchen table, sipping mugs of hot liquid that I suspected to be tea. Through the sliding glass doors, I saw Matteo, Armano, and Gavi. I didn’t know what they were doing, but it was cute to see the older man with the younger boys. I had no idea where Maria or Marco were
“Buonasera,” I greeted them with a weak smile. I wasn’t feeling that great. I’d vomited once before I left Salina’s, and my stomach was still very unsettled. Whatever was cooking on the stovetop wasn’t helping. It didn’t smell bad; it just didn’t agree with my temperamental tummy.
I must have looked as terrible as I felt, because in an instant, Elena dragged me to a chair and made me sit while Francesca retrieved something from a cabinet. She gave me a small plate of thin hardtacks, a twice baked bread that was more like a cracker. The girls were given some cookies and juice and fussed over. They loved the attention. Moments later, Elena put a mug of steaming tea in front of me that smelled minty. I smiled appreciatively and nibbled on a cracker as she took a seat across from me.
“Grazie mille.” As carefully as I could with my broken, choppy Italian, I asked where Marco was.
Elena spoke with fluent, fast sentences. I squinted as if I could see the words form in English in the air between us. She apologized, having forgotten that I didn’t speak the language, but I held up a hand and indicated I could understand a bit.
“Um… all’ospedale con Maria?” I asked carefully, guessing that she’d said he was at the hospital with Maria.
“Sì, sì.” They grinned at me, excited that we could communicate.
We spent the next hour chatting. It was pleasant, and I was glad to spend some time with Marco’s mom, but the conversation I’d had with Tess and Salina weighed heavily on me. They never told me I couldn’t tell Marco about his brother’s secrets, but it didn’t feel right just to throw them out there, either. On the other hand, knowing that Celia was up to no good made me feel immensely uncomfortable. Then again, I didn’t know if I even wanted to talk to Marco after the way he’d treated me this morning. Although, I had to admit that I enjoyed throwing all that money in his face.
Maria came in just as dinner was placed on the table. We ate in the kitchen instead of the big dining room since it was just the immediate family, my kids, and me. She reported that Massimo was doing better and would be able to leave the hospital tomorrow at the earliest. When I asked her about Marco, she first seemed surprised and then suspicious that I spoke in Italian, but Elena explained in so many words that I sucked at it. Maria relaxed and told me that he was in their father’s office working since it was still business hours in New York.
I didn’t eat much. The tea and bread helped, but the nausea still clung to me. After dinner when it was time to clean up, Elena insisted that I sit and sip more tea. It was more than pregnancy symptoms, though. The more time that passed without speaking to Marco, the worse I felt. His family was lovely, nearly perfect, but they were still strangers to me; not to mention, I was in a strange place, and I felt abandoned. Confused. Misunderstood. Angry and sad. So many emotions battling each other, and it all made me sick.
“Take this to Marcello,” Francesca said, putting a tray of food in front of me. “I’ll watch the kids for a few minutes.”
Fortunately, the walk to Matteo’s office wasn’t a long one and only required a few stairs. I wasn’t exactly walking easy, but I appreciated that the Manginis didn’t treat me like an invalid. The door was slightly ajar. I didn’t knock before nudging it open with my foot and stepping inside. Marco was sat behind the desk, his laptop open. When he saw me, he got to his feet, brows lifted in surprise. “Hi.”
“Francesca wanted me to bring this to you.” I put the tray down on a coffee table and started back for the door.
“Wait, Lydia.”
I paused but didn’t face him. I was anxious about seeing him again after this morning, but as I remembered how things played out, I was just as anxious to get away. My emotions were too mixed up to even try to talk to him, even though that was what I wanted. I rolled my eyes at my indecision.
He positioned himself between me and the door. My eyes slowly lifted to meet his. He didn’t look away from me as he reached out and closed the door. I started to take a step back, but his hands latched onto my waist, and then he pulled me to his body. Initially, I tried to push him away, but his arms wrapped around me, and after a few more seconds of struggling, I stopped and let my arms fall to my sides and my forehead fall against his chest. Thank goodness he didn’t smell like anything or anyone else but him.
“You’re an asshole,” I mumbled against him.
“I know, but let me just hold you for a little while, Tesoro.”
“You don’t deserve to hold me.”
“I know.”
After another minute, I put my arms around his torso, and he managed to bring me even closer, holding me tightly.
“How are you feeling? Do you feel okay? Have you been eating?”
“I’ve been nauseo
us, but your mom gave me some tea and these cracker things. It’s helped.”
“She asked me if you were pregnant. I think it’s a sixth sense Italian mothers have.”
I lifted my head and peered into his face. “She knows?”
“Yes, she knows. I asked her not to make any announcements. Typically, she can be trusted with a secret, but since she is already in love with you and the kids and has literally been waiting decades for this to happen, I would not doubt if my father and sisters know by now as well.”
“I guess that explains why she wouldn’t let me do anything that didn’t involve sitting on my ass. By the way, I think I’m in love with her, too, and Francesca is very entertaining.”
“She always has been. So, Tesoro,” he said, eyebrows raised.
I was the picture of innocence as I blinked up at him. “What?”
“Tu parli e capisci molto bene l'italiano.”
I was caught. He just told me I understood Italian very well.
“I understand well enough, and I suck at speaking it.”
“Why did you not say that? Why hide it?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t want to sound stupid, and I didn’t want to be even more bombarded by your family when I first got here. They backed off some because of the language barrier. It would’ve been too much.”
That was the truth, but not all of it. The other reason I didn’t want anyone to know was because I was able to learn a lot by listening. People tend to speak openly when they think you can’t hear or understand them, but Marco would correctly believe I didn’t mention this because I distrusted Celia. Again, I wasn’t ready to ruin this time I had with him.
While I could see in his face that he suspected there was more to it, he didn’t push. Instead, he stroked my cheek and brushed a stray hair that had fallen from my ponytail off my face. His blue eyes were heated, sending a thrill through me.
“Say something in Italian now.”
With a sly smile, I did as he commanded. “Ti amo hai un coglione.”
Marco threw his head back and laughed loud. His whole body shook, which shook me along with it. My smile disappeared as I glared at him.
“Why is that funny? I mean it was a little funny, but not that funny.”
As he tried to catch his breath, he asked, “What…what did you mean to say?”
“That I love you, but you’re an asshole.”
He laughed loud and hard again. Irritated, I tried to pull away, but he hung on. After a moment, he was calm enough to speak, though the amusement was still in his voice and all over his face. “What you did say is that you love me, but I’m sporting only one testicle.”
His laughter surrounded me as I stood there feeling a little embarrassed. “Oh. Well, that makes a big difference.”
He kissed my forehead. “Yes, it does. You are right, Tesoro. You do suck at speaking Italian.”
I smacked his chest, but it didn’t have much power behind it, because it was funny. Finally, I let myself laugh with him. “Eat your dinner before it gets cold.”
He let me step out of his embrace, but he reached for my hand, as if he couldn’t stand to have me go any farther away.
“How are the girls? I had lunch with Gavin, Armano, and Francesca’s boys. We played a bit of rugby, but I missed Cora and Mandy today.”
“They’re tired. Francesca is with them now, but I’m going to put them to bed. Why don’t you come up in a few minutes and say goodnight?”
“That sounds perfect.”
He pulled me back to him and planted his mouth on mine. There was no slow build. It was deep and passionate from the start, as if he’d been craving for me all day.
“If the kids were not waiting for you, I would bend you over that desk, pull your pants down, and fill you up,” he growled against my lips.
I nipped at his tongue and looked into his eyes. “They can wait a few minutes more.”
Marco needed no further convincing. Moments later, I was naked from the waist down and bent forward over the desk. Papers scattered to the floor. A frame with a picture of all the grandkids kids fell over, and something else I couldn’t see crashed to the area rug as well. I didn’t care, and Marco didn’t, either. That was clear when he didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate to do as he’d said he would and filled me with his hard length.
He bent over me, covering me with his body, but his hands moved protectively to my stomach to keep me from hitting the desk as he pounded into me. His thrusts were relentless and unforgiving as he grunted, growled, and cursed in Italian in my ear.
“You feel so…so good,” he said hoarsely. “You’re mine. You are both mine. Do you hear me, Tesoro? You are mine. This baby is mine. You…are…mine!”
He swiftly pulled out of me, and less than a second later, I felt warm liquid on my skin as he came hard. I thought he was done, but then I remembered Marco would never leave me unsatisfied. Before I could even think of standing up, two of his fingers drove deep inside me. I cried out again and pushed back against him. His cock had been fantastic, but his fingers were really doing it for me. They felt so good. He found that spot, the one that can make a girl clinically insane, and in a moment, I lost my mind, screaming and bucking against his fingers, and begging for mercy. He gave me none, making me come again before I could take no more and collapsed across the desk.
In a daze, I was only vaguely aware of him cleaning me up with tissues. I blinked deliriously as he stood me up and gently pulled my pants and panties back into place. When he kissed me softly this time, I had enough sense to kiss back. We grinned at each other, and finally, my head began to clear.
“You know sex doesn’t fix everything.”
“I know, but it sure does fix a multitude of things.”
I put my hand on his chest. “It does, but…” My smile faded. “We still need to have a serious talk. You know that, right?”
Hesitantly, he nodded. “I know. I will say now that I am sorry that I pushed you to befriend Celia. I still do not understand your animosity toward her, but I should not have tried to force a relationship between the two of you. I am hoping in the future, that will change.”
It took everything I had not to grind my teeth. Instead, I pulled away from him and began to straighten my clothes. “Well, we can talk more about it tonight after the kids are asleep.”
He agreed with a nod.
Once more, we kissed. It was brief and sweet, and it should have warmed me to my toes, but as I walked away from the office a minute later, something nagged at me. Marco tended to curse when he was really turned on, but normally he didn’t utter nonsense in the heat of the moment. If he had just said I was his, that would have been one thing, but what he said was that I was his, and so was the baby. He’d said it twice while still inside me, and again as he climaxed. It didn’t sound sexy. It sounded desperate, like he was scared that it wasn’t true, and he had to make it so.
To me, it sounded like my fear was valid, and that Marco doubted his part in making our child.
Chapter Fifteen
Marco didn’t let the kids down. He came upstairs and spent more than an hour with them, talking about their day and just horsing around. They were so excited to spend some time with him that I didn’t think they’d ever fall asleep. As per usual, however, Mandy dropped off first. Cora wasn’t far behind. Gavi was still awake when we left the room but happy to just put on a pair of headphones and watch a movie on his tablet.
“I have some more work to do,” Marco said after we closed the door that lead to the kids’ room. At least he looked sorry for it, but I couldn’t hide my disappointment.
“I thought we were going to talk.”
“And we will. I promise, Tesoro, but I’ve fallen so far behind on my work. They are working late in New York trying to fix a problem, and I need to work right along with them.”
With a sigh, I gestured for him to go. “All right. I understand.”
He kissed my cheek. “I will try to be back soon.”
&
nbsp; I let him go and tried to busy myself to stay awake, but after only about a half hour, I fell asleep. Later, I woke up because I had to pee. I checked the time when I came out of the bathroom and realized Marco had been gone for hours. It was almost three in the morning, which meant it was about nine-thirty in New York. Surely, they should be winding down soon if they hadn’t already. As much as I tried to chase the thought away, it wouldn’t go anywhere, but I kept asking myself, what if he was with Celia?
Without thinking about it too much, I pulled on a hoodie, slipped on a pair of shoes, and went to look for my baby’s father. As I neared the office a couple minutes later, I heard him speaking to someone. My heart raced, suspecting it was her, but just as I reached the door, a tinny voice could be heard, and it definitely was not Celia’s voice, unless it suddenly deepened into a masculine baritone. I sighed with relief and stood against the wall outside the office, cursing myself for even making the trip. My leg hurt like hell. Climbing back to the second floor was going to be a bitch.
Suddenly, I was reminded of the night my knee gave out on me when I was at my sister’s, and Marco had sat with me in the hallway. We’d shared some bourbon and a few quips, and then he’d carried me to the living room and took care of me, even though I’d been so rude to him. I smiled to myself as I remembered the way he smelled and how it felt that first time to be held by him.
“Ciao,” a soft, lyrical voice said only a few feet away.
I jumped at the unexpected sound and glanced up to find Celia standing on the other side of the doorway. Like me, she wore a hoodie, except hers zipped up the front and was too big. She wore yoga pants and warm-looking slippers. It was the first time I’d seen her dressed so casually and at home. Then I realized that might’ve been because she really was at home—her part of the house was only a few short steps from the office.
