Love and Learn (Voretti Family Book 2)

by Ava Blackstone

  The Voretti brothers flashed him identical, narrow-eyed grins, like they were sighting him through the scopes of their favorite sniper rifles, counting down the seconds until they got permission to engage. Even Mrs. V had taken a shooting stance.

  And didn’t it figure that Annabelle’s family collected assault rifles. Nothing about this woman was easy. Nothing except the way she made him feel when they were together. “Well. You’ve certainly got some stopping power.”

  “I don’t allow anyone to come into my house and cause trouble,” Mr. V said. “No one disrespects me or my family.”

  “I understand, sir.”

  “One should always be prepared for any eventuality. Are you prepared, Tyler?”

  The question echoed through Ty’s head. He hadn’t been prepared when he’d strolled back into Annabelle’s life, expecting to pick up right where they’d left off. But after last night? He was all in. “I’m prepared.”

  “Prepared for a Predator?”

  He held Mr. V’s gaze. “My M-4 was my best friend on a mission, but I don’t find much need for weapons as a civilian. I do fine with my own two hands.”

  Was that approval he saw on Mr. V’s face? The expression disappeared too fast for Ty to be sure.

  “Very well. Enough of these pleasantries. Are you going to do right by my daughter or do I need to give you a personal introduction to my collection?”

  Annabelle jumped in front of Ty like a secret service agent taking a bullet to save the president. “Papa, please. Let Ty leave and then I promise I’ll explain—”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Ty said, at the same time that Annabelle’s father roared, “Absolutely not!”

  “Well, well.” Mr. V gave Ty that look again. It wasn’t exactly approval, but at least it was an improvement on I’m-gonna-put-a-bullet-in-your-kidney-and-watch-you-bleed-out. “It seems there is one thing we agree on.”

  “Papa,” Annabelle broke in. “I know you’re upset, but I’m a grown woman. What I choose to do in the privacy of my own home is none of your business.”

  “You are my daughter. You will always be my business. And if this cafone does not do the right thing and make you his wife in the eyes of the church, I will cut off his coglioni and feed them to the sewer rats.”

  Ty barely registered Mr. V’s threat—he was too preoccupied with Annabelle’s panicked expression. He needed to let her know Daddy Dearest wasn’t gonna scare him off. Not when he’d already made up his mind to marry her. Of course, he hadn’t meant to propose this soon, but if it would keep the peace…

  “Give me a minute to discuss this with Annabelle,” Ty said.

  All three Voretti brothers started yelling at once.

  “Fuck, no.”

  “Anything you want to say, you’ll say to me.”

  “You’re not getting another second alone with my sister.”

  “Holy shit!” Liv shoved her way through the crowd of Voretti boys. “You guys really are crazy.”

  “Language, Olivia,” Mrs. V admonished, but Liv was too busy ogling his bare chest to respond. Ty fought the urge to duck behind Annabelle.

  “Are you seriously going to make them get married?” Liv asked Mr. V. “Like, an actual shotgun wedding?”

  “Stay out of it,” growled one of the twins.

  “No one is marrying anyone. And there will be no guns involved.” Annabelle glared at her brothers as she spoke, like she was warning them not to draw their weapons—and, shit—the older one had a bulge near the bottom of his jeans at exactly the right place for an ankle holster.

  No, that was crazy. He wouldn’t carry with a month-old baby strapped to his chest. At least, Ty was pretty sure he wouldn’t.

  The twins had no obvious bulges, but they were wearing jackets despite the mild summer weather. Even Mr. V was wearing a windbreaker.

  “No wedding? Then go!” Mr. V raised one arm at a ninety degree angle, pointing out the door. “If I catch you near my daughter again, I will put a bullet through your heart.”

  The Voretti boys closed around him. “Let’s go,” one of the twins bit out.

  Ty couldn’t see Annabelle anymore. They were herding him away from her.

  Adrenaline punched through his veins. He planted his feet. He’d take all of these fuckers down if they pushed him one more inch away from his woman.

  “Hold on, now.” It was strange to hear his voice come out in that relaxed drawl, when he was half a second from punching somebody. “You haven’t heard me out.”

  “There is nothing to hear!” Mr. V yelled. “Either you will marry my Annabelle, or—”

  “Yes.”

  The hand around his bicep loosened. His armed guard dispersed, leaving him in front of Annabelle and Mr. V.

  Annabelle was pale. Too pale.

  He took a step toward her, but Mr. V intercepted. “Yes what?”

  “Yes, I’ll marry her. Assuming she’ll have me, of course.” He smiled reassuringly, but Annabelle still looked like she was about to pass out.

  He pushed closer. If she fainted, he was damn well going to catch her, even if it did get him shot.

  “This is not a joke,” Mr. V spluttered. “You do not get married on a whim and then divorced the next day. This is forever.”

  “Forever is exactly what I want.”

  He turned to Annabelle. “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “I know this isn’t the most romantic proposal, and I promise I’ll do it again, the right way, once I get the ring. But for now, let’s humor the crazy people.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide.

  He’d shocked the hell out of her. No surprise there. She’d probably made a detailed mental flowchart describing the way their relationship should progress, and he was slashing and burning the timeline.

  He wanted to give her the romantic proposal she deserved, but that wasn’t gonna happen with her entire family glaring at him. Lucky for him, Annabelle was the logical, scientist type. She’d understand that the important thing was for the two of them to be together.

  He got down on one knee. The entire Voretti clan had him in their sights, but he focused on Annabelle. The woman he loved. The woman he was going to spend the rest of his life with. “Will you marry me?”

  Annabelle stared at him. She swallowed. And then she finally opened her mouth. “No.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “HURRY.” ANNABELLE PULLED Ty down the hallway. She needed him out of her apartment before her family recovered from the shock of her refusal and came after them both. Before the tears pressing against the back of her eyes overflowed like storm water breaking through a dam, and he realized he’d broken her heart.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. This is pretty much my top speed.”

  She slowed immediately, giving herself a mental slap. She’d completely forgotten about his leg.

  She did it for days at a time. He was so confident, so sexy, she never thought of him as anything less than perfect. Her prince.

  Well. He’d proven he was no Prince Charming with that proposal. If only she could convince herself he’d asked her to marry him out of love, but even she wasn’t that good at make-believe.

  Sure, Ty liked her. But his proposal had been all about going with the flow. Right now, it was convenient to marry her. They had a good time together, the sex had been amazing, and most importantly, he wouldn’t have to worry about getting shot in the back by an angry Italian mob. But the minute the current shifted Ty would change directions with it, bringing them to divorce court as soon as they had that first, inevitable argument.

  She tried to open the front door, but her hand was shaking. It took her two tries to connect with the knob. Somehow, she hauled the stupid thing open.

  The air outside was hot and stale, the sun was too bright, and despite the fact that she’d made it out of the apartment, she felt like she was trapped somewhere small and tight.

  “Annabelle? Sweetheart?” Ty’s voice was gentle. It would be easy to talk herself into believing it was love, bu
t she couldn’t allow herself any more childish fantasies. Nothing less than the words themselves, directly from Ty’s mouth, would convince her.

  “Where are we going?” he asked.

  She stopped in front of his truck. “We’re not going anywhere. You’re going to drive far enough that my family won’t find you, and then get a motel room for the night.”

  He grinned, like she’d made a cute little joke. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not afraid of your dad.”

  “Well you should be. You’re not bulletproof. And this isn’t only about you. I need my family to cool down and remember this is the twenty-first century, and they don’t need to marry me off to protect my honor.”

  He was silent for a beat, like he was considering that. “Or we could do it. I know it’s fast, but don’t say no because your family is pushing it. The two of us—we’re meant to be together.”

  Don’t say it, whispered the voice of reason inside her head—the one that had protected her heart for the last seven years—but there was too much to keep inside. Tears pressed against her eyes and words pushed at her throat, and something had to come out. “Why?”

  “Why?”

  “Yes, Ty. I want to know why you’re suddenly convinced we belong together.”

  “Lots of reasons.” He shifted, leaning against the cab of his truck. “We get along great. I can talk to you about anything. And last night blew my mind.” He grinned. “Admit it, sweetheart. The two of us made the earth move.”

  “That’s it?”

  “No.” He paused, as though considering. “I like the way you burrow into me when you’re sleeping. You have great taste in beer. And you think my jokes are funny.” There was that darn grin again. “You want me to keep going?”

  “No. We’re done.” If she had to listen to Ty list a hundred more reasons without ever hitting on the single one that mattered, she was going to lose it. “I’m sorry. I can’t marry you.”

  She turned. Then she started forward, concentrating on the simple motion of putting one foot in front of the other, because if she let herself think about what she was walking away from—

  “I want to marry you because it feels right. Because we’re meant to be.”

  She must’ve stopped walking because, suddenly, Ty was in front of her, cupping her face as he spoke. “You feel it too. I know you do.”

  She pulled away before his low, urgent tone stripped away the last of her defenses. “There’s no relationship less meant to be than ours. I mean, really. It’s been a disaster from the beginning. You leave the country. I develop this crazy sex phobia. Then my entire family barges in on us after we finally do the deed.”

  “That’s one way to look at it. But you could also say that your family surprising us this morning is the universe’s way of telling us to get our asses in gear—that it’s been seven years too long, and we need to make this relationship official.”

  “So my papa threatening to shoot you was the universe saying, ‘Congratulations, you crazy kids?’ ”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Don’t think. Focus on the way you feel.”

  “I can’t focus on the way I feel without thinking about it. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  He sighed. “Close your eyes.”

  “No way.” It would be exactly like Ty to take advantage of her defenseless position to move in for a kiss. And then she really would stop thinking, and anything might happen.

  “I won’t even touch you.” Ty took a step back. “See? Close your eyes and picture the two of us together, reciting our vows.”

  “I—”

  “You’re standing in front of me, and you’re so beautiful, you’re all I can see. You give your bouquet to Liv so you can hold my hand. And then you smile at me, and I know I’m the luckiest man who was ever born. Because today is the day you promise to be with me forever.”

  She kept her eyes wide open but it didn’t matter. Instead of focusing on the cement stairs that led back to the safety of her apartment, all she could see were the images projected inside her brain—the ones Ty was putting there with his low, husky tone.

  She saw each detail as he described it. The white, flowing dress. Her favorite flowers decorating an intimate venue with stained glass windows that let in the afternoon sunlight. Ty’s hand clasping hers, warm and strong, as he smiled at her.

  Maybe it wasn’t just a fantasy. Surely she couldn’t picture the love in his eyes if it was only a figment of her imagination.

  Now she did close her eyes, sure that if she concentrated a little harder, focused a bit closer, she’d find the truth. It felt that real.

  Except, in reality, Papa wouldn’t be smiling benevolently. He’d be glaring at Ty, one hand on the butt of his P226—a clear warning that Ty had better say “I do.” The officiant would be late, because Liv had talked him into a quickie in the coat closet. And the flowing, white dress that made her look like a fairy tale bride? No way. She’d have some off-the-rack crap that didn’t even fit right, because she’d been too afraid Ty would change his mind in the week it would take to have it altered.

  Ty was back to the dress. “…and, okay, maybe I’m also wondering if I really have to undo all of those tiny buttons or if I could rip—”

  “No!”

  “Okay. Don’t worry. I hereby swear not to rip your wedding dress, even if it does take me an hour to—”

  “Not that. It’s…you’re describing my dress like it’s some custom-made $10,000 gown.”

  His brow knit, like he didn’t see the problem, and anger did a slow burn inside her chest. “Things like that take time. If you want to get married on my family’s schedule, I’m going to be in some crappy, off-the-rack dress.”

  “That’s what’s bothering you? I can get you any dress you want.”

  “Bullshit!” The word escaped her mouth before she knew what had happened, but she refused to take it back. It was bullshit, Ty’s ridiculous notion that the universe was somehow aligned in his favor.

  “Oh, ye of little faith.” He grinned. “Let’s make a bet. If I can get the dress you want by tomorrow night, you marry me.”

  “What are you going to do? Wave your magic wand and turn my poppy sundress into one of those custom embroidered sheaths from Natashja? We’re not living inside some fairytale where all problems are magically solved by the final page. Finding a dress takes work. Just like marriage.”

  “You want a Natashja? I’ll make it happen.”

  She’d only chosen Natashja because she had a vague memory of Liv rambling drunkenly about how, someday, she was going to be as famous as the woman who charged $10,000 a dress and had a six-month waiting list. But if Ty was going to treat life like a game, maybe it was time he realized he could lose, like everyone else.

  “Yes,” she said. “That’s what I want.”

  “Then I’ll get the next flight to New York. I’ll be back with your dress by tomorrow night.”

  He sounded so confident that she started to sweat. What if he actually pulled it off? Could she stick to her principles and refuse to marry him if he brought home the fairy tale dress he’d described?

  Ty shot her his cocky, the-universe-is-mine-to-command grin. “Get ready to say ‘I do.’ ”

  CHAPTER 13

  “YOU’RE LUCKY YOU arrived when you did. I was about to leave for a show.”

  Ty grinned as his godmother pulled him inside her Chelsea brownstone. Natashja’s walls were covered with an eclectic collection of everything from tribal masks to high-fashion photography, and he drank in the familiar sights. Now that his parents were gone, she was the closest he had to a mother, and it had been way too long since he’d visited.

  “You know me, Natashja. Luck has nothing to do with it.”

  She pursed her scarlet lips and shook her head, not a hair daring to stray from her sleek, silver bob. “Don’t tell me you haven’t outgrown that childish the-universe-is-on-my-side nonsense. If some higher power had p
lanned this out, I certainly hope they’d give us more than five minutes to chat.”

  “I don’t have much time. I’m getting married in three days.” Annabelle’s father had texted him the date and time of the wedding and rehearsal dinner while he was en route, which must be a good sign. If Annabelle didn’t think he was going to come through with the dress, she wouldn’t be moving full speed ahead with the wedding plans. “Think you can make it to San Diego for the wedding?”

  Natashja muttered something about people who waited until the last minute, but she already had her phone out, checking her calendar. She pressed a few buttons, then held the phone to her ear. “Henry. Book me a flight to San Diego, leaving as soon as the show is over.”

  She slipped the phone back into her pocket. “What on earth are you doing here if you’re about to be married on the opposite coast?”

  “That’s the thing. I need a dress.”

  She raised one perfectly plucked brow, the simple movement transforming her from the woman who’d read him bedtime stories to one of the most sought-after designers in the country. “Impossible.”

  “C’mon, Natashja. Nothing is impossible if you want it bad enough. And I need this. My fiancée won’t marry me without a Natashja original.”

  “Then good riddance. I design dresses for a living, boy, but even I know people are more important than scraps of fabric.”

  “Did you just call the gowns Haute Couture Bride rated their top pick scraps of fabric?”

  “I’m trying to have a serious discussion.” She sighed. “No one ever accused me of being tactful, so I’ll come out and say it. I haven’t been greatly impressed with your choice of romantic partners in the past—”

  “Bri wasn’t right for me. I know that now. But Annabelle—”

  “I wasn’t finished. I don’t care how much you think the universe wants you with this girl. If she doesn’t love you without a designer dress, she’s not worth your time.”

  “You’re right.” He squeezed Natashja tight, so glad he still had someone watching out for him, even if she was making his life more complicated. “But trust me—the woman is crazy about me. She’s just a little…trigger shy.”