Francesca pressed her hand tighter against his abdomen, matching her steps to his because he'd begun to walk faster. She could see they were headed for a small park in the middle of the neighborhood.
"He just never got strong. My parents were extra hard on him. I told you, we were required to train from age two. They refused to give him more time. Neither spent any time with him, and if they came into contact with him, they were irritated by him. He learned very fast to keep out of their way and my brothers and Emmanuelle took to deflecting their attention immediately if they spotted him."
"I don't understand." Francesca couldn't help but break her silence. "Why would they be irritated by a child?" There was genuine confusion in her voice because it didn't make sense to her. The boy obviously needed love and attention, not annoyance or anger.
"He wasn't perfect, Francesca. In my home, growing up, nothing but perfection was allowed. Our training. Our education. Our ability to speak languages. We had to be not good at everything, but great. Ettore tried, but he couldn't keep up. We all tried to help him, tutor him, work with him on physical training, but he was always behind. And the martial arts and boxing took a toll on his body."
"How? Wouldn't that strengthen him?"
He shook his head. "He didn't heal from the inevitable bruises and injuries we got. He was slow at other things, too, things that were necessary in our work. I tried to talk to the parents about him, but they wouldn't listen to me. He was far too sensitive for our kind of work."
She still didn't know what his kind of work was, but if helping out a seventeen-year-old girl who was being horribly abused was anything to go by, she was fairly certain she knew Stefano meant even reading the reports on such things hurt Ettore's heart.
"That's so terrible, Stefano. He should have been protected." She wanted to wrap her arms around him and hold him tight. She knew what it was like to experience loss. Stefano obviously loved his brother very much. More like a parent with a child than a sibling.
"He should have been, but when he was sixteen, the parents insisted he become active. We got into a terrible fight, but they pulled rank on me. Ettore died. I went to get his body and I carried him home myself. I never allowed them to make a decision regarding any of my siblings after that." There was steel in his voice.
The parents. That was how he referred to the man and woman who had given him life. Stefano loved family. Her fingers curled in his vest, and she turned her head to press a kiss into his side, regardless of the fact that they had a lot more things to work out. Her heart ached for him. She had to blink away tears of sympathy and swallow the terrible lump that had formed in her throat.
He looked down at her bent head. "Amore mio, you are far too soft to be without my protection. When you're upset or hurt, or you don't understand, trust me. Talk to me. We're going to be together a lifetime, and I don't ever want you to be afraid or hurt and not come to me. You'll hear a lot of ugly things."
They had entered the park and he guided her toward a bench. The rain had left everything looking brand-new and shiny. He halted, stepping in front of her, tipping her face up to his. "We live our lives in the spotlight quite a bit of the time and it's necessary. People can be very ugly. You have to trust me to look after you and protect you. You have to let us." His thumb slid over her lower lip and then brushed back and forth over her chin.
"I didn't run away, Stefano," she denied softly. "I just needed time to process."
He nodded as if in understanding. "You can't possibly process without having the facts, Francesca." His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, his thumb sweeping her cheek as if he couldn't get enough of her skin.
"It was a shock to hear the things she said."
"I'm certain that's true, bambina--she is very judgmental and demanding. Above all, she wants the Ferraro name pure."
Her heart clenched hard in her chest. So hard it was painful. She had enough scandal tied to her name to sink an entire continent of Ferraros.
Stefano cupped her face gently in his palms, bending so that his forehead touched hers, breathing her in. Breathing for both of them. "We manage to create enough scandal ourselves without our women worrying that they might not be good enough. I love you. I love everything about you. You make me happy. It isn't because you're a rider--it's because you're you."
She swallowed hard. There it was. The "rider" business. Something about what his mother said was the truth, although she heard the ring of honesty in his voice.
"Did I notice you because you're a rider?" he continued. "Of course I did, dolce cuore--how could I not when so few come our way? But once we connected, once I was that close to you, I knew."
She stepped closer to him, her hands going inside his jacket and under his vest to clutch his shirt. She wanted to touch bare skin, to be absorbed by him. Melt right into him. Since that wasn't an option, she settled for curling her fingers into his shirt and feeling the heat coming off of him. There was a lot of heat.
"Are you going to explain to me what a rider is?"
Stefano lifted his head, his hands sliding from her face reluctantly. He turned her toward the bench, and Francesca sank down onto the wrought iron. It was cold until he sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. He liked being close to her. He insisted on touching her when he was close. She liked that. A. Lot.
"Once I tell you that, there's no going back from it. Eloisa was . . . indiscreet. You should never have heard that term."
"You have a lot of secrets," Francesca observed.
He was silent, something scary working in the depths of his eyes. "Does that scare you?"
"Everything about you scares me, Stefano, but that doesn't seem to matter. I'm still here. I would have worked this out on my own."
"You work things out with me," Stefano said firmly. "It has to be that way," he added hastily when she stirred in protest. "Once you know all the secrets, they have to remain secrets. There's no talking to Joanna or anyone else other than immediate family. We're close for a reason. We depend on one another. We have to. Can you accept that, Francesca?"
"I want a family, Stefano, and I like how yours is so close, so yes, that's an easy one to accept."
The tension hadn't left his body. She could feel it there, coiled and ready to strike to protect him. But from what? Her? Stefano suddenly shifted, one arm going under her knees, the other around her back. He lifted her easily and sat her on his lap, his arms circling her. She recognized the move as aggressive--claiming--rather than sweet. Her heart began to pound.
"In our family it is necessary for someone like me to produce children if at all possible. Those children have to be created with another person like me."
"A rider." She supplied the term he was so reluctant to use.
He nodded. "Yes. Another rider. When I said children plural, I mean we would have to try for a large family." He sighed. "I don't know who I'm kidding. I want a large family, and I want my wife staying home and taking care of them. I want her to get up with me in the middle of the night and change their diapers and feed them. I want her to shower our children with love every minute of the day. I want her to be strong enough to stand up to me and balance my need to keep them all safe."
She understood the tension in him. He'd never had that--not what he wanted for his children. Francesca slid her hand up his chest to stroke the tension from his hard jaw. "Honey, I grew up in a house filled with love. I want nothing less for our children. I don't want someone else raising them. I want family picnics and laughter and trips to the beach that cover all of us in sand that we drag back to our car."
"You'll stay home with them?"
She laughed softly. "And be a kept woman? Seriously, Stefano."
"You'll be my wife. The mother of my children. That means you'll be the heart in our home. Not kept, Francesca, important. The most important of all. I grew up being both mother and father to my siblings. I saw what I wanted for them and for my own children when I visited my aunts and uncles. There was love i
n their homes. Our children will have to train as I did, but that should be balanced out with love and acceptance. With the ability to recognize each child as an individual with different needs."
She fell in love just a little bit more. How could she not? She heard the longing and need in his voice. He was baring his soul to her. Laying himself on the line. Whatever a "rider" was, it was unimportant next to what he was revealing to her. That was work; this was about his heart and soul. He was giving her that. Stripping himself bare so she knew exactly what he wanted and needed in his life.
"I have to know if that appeals to you, Francesca. I don't want to lose you. I want to give you the world, anything you want. At the same time, you need to know the things most important to me. Our family. You. Me. Our children and my siblings. You'll be the heart for them as well. Can you do that? Am I asking too much of you?"
She heard uncertainty for the first time in his voice. Her man. Strong. Invincible. Arrogant even. Yet he was uncertain when it came to her. He was asking for a home filled with love for his children. For him. For his sister and brothers. Asking if she would be right at the center of that. She knew that position would also put her in charge of the neighborhood, the people he obviously loved and considered under his protection. He would give her those people as well.
"I love you, Stefano. I want to be the mother of your children. I wouldn't know any other way of parenting than to show them as much love as possible. I'll certainly insist on raising them with you. I've worked since I was thirteen years old. I'm not certain I would know how to stay home, but I imagine having multiple children is work in itself. So, yes, I love your idea of a home and family and I am certainly on board with it. However"--she turned his face toward hers and looked him in the eye--"there will be no more telling my boss I'm not working, or telling Emilio and Enzo to bring me home."
He leaned that two inches separating them and brushed kisses from her cheekbone to her chin. "Can't promise that, amore. You run away from me like that and I lose my mind. I forget everything but the need to get you back."
She burst out laughing, she couldn't help it. She didn't want to encourage him, but he was just too funny. "You're impossible."
"But very much in love with you, Francesca," he said, framing her face with his hands, looking into her eyes. "I'm so in love with you I can't even breathe without you. I know absolutely, I was born to be your man. Our shadows connected and that truth was there for both of us to see."
It was a beautiful declaration and her eyes burned with reaction. Stark. Raw. He meant every word. She even knew what he meant by their shadows connecting. She'd felt that jolt of urgent chemistry and the rightness of Stefano Ferraro. She often felt emotion when her shadow connected with someone else's, but she'd never felt such a physical and emotional connection as she had when her shadow touched his.
Although he was incredibly possessive and always stating in no uncertain terms that she belonged to him, he hadn't said she was born to be his woman. He had said he was born to be her man. For some reason those words touched her as nothing else could have. She took a breath and let it out. She wanted everything he was offering, no matter how controlling and obsessive he was. No matter how secret their family life would have to be or what a "rider" was.
"I can live with all of it, Stefano, because I suspect I just might have been born for you."
He dropped his chin to the top of her head and just held her in his arms for a long while. She watched the people moving around the park. A few joggers. A couple strolling hand and hand. It was cold and when she shivered, Stefano put her on her feet.
"Let's go home, bella. We can spend the day together. Maybe ask the siblings over for dinner tonight. But I just want a restful day. Eloisa always wears me out." He stood up, locked his arm around her waist and began walking back toward the entrance. Emilio followed them. Enzo was nowhere to be found.
Francesca gave an exaggerated sigh. "I don't know about that woman as a motherin-law, Stefano. She doesn't like me. At. All. In fact, she said she was friends with Barry Anthon's parents." She tried to hide the anxiety in her voice, but she was fairly certain he heard it anyway.
"Don't worry about Eloisa," he assured. "First of all, she isn't anyone's friend outside the family. She's close to her sisters and brothers, but no one else. She doesn't let anyone in. She might know Barry's mother, but she doesn't like her. Margaret Anthon is a society queen. Eloisa, for all her faults, can't take that kind of snobbery. Margaret doesn't touch a single charity unless there's something big in it for her."
"That's a little sad. About your mother, I mean," Francesca pointed out. "That she doesn't have friends. What about Emmanuelle? Surely she's friends with her daughter?"
He shook his head. The car waited at the entrance to the park, Enzo in the driver's seat. Stefano opened the back passenger door for her. Francesca slid onto the cool leather seat, scooting over to make room for her fiance. Emilio slipped into the front seat.
Stefano shook his head. "Not Emmanuelle. If anything she was nearly as bad with Emme as she was with Ettore. She was incredibly hard on both of them. We all tried to shield them, but during training, we had no real say at all. Emme doesn't ever talk about it, but she keeps her distance from Eloisa and Phillip the way we all do."
There was pain in his voice, and Francesca immediately threaded her fingers through his and brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles. "Honey, you did your best. Emmanuelle's happy. She loves you and her brothers and cousins. I think she's amazing. You did a good job with her."
"She is pretty amazing," Stefano agreed, pulling her hand to his thigh and holding it there over his solid muscle. "I'm very proud of her. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body, but she can be steel when she needs to be."
"She can fight, too," Francesca said. "You'll have to teach me. She wiped up the floor with the three bimbos."
He raised his eyebrow.
She scowled at him. "Don't pretend you don't remember your three exes. Janice. Doreen. Stella. The horrible threesome with a penchant for doing coke in a bathroom."
"Ah. Them."
"They pled guilty to possession with intent to sell. They have access to high-priced lawyers and yet they took a plea deal. That didn't make sense. They have a good career going . . ."
He shook his head. "They'd been doing more partying than recording, and their last tour was a disaster. Stella was so drunk she fell off the stage, and Janice OD'd right after. The PR people had a nightmare trying to cover that up. Their excesses made them a terrible liability for their label. This last stunt put them over the edge and the label dropped them. Their career is gone."
"Did you have something to do with them losing their label?"
He shrugged. "No one fucks with my woman."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "They were arrested and received a hefty sentence."
He shrugged again and she sighed. She couldn't actually feel sorry for the three women, especially since they'd tried to shove cocaine in her face.
"Emmanuelle beat the crap out of them and didn't even break a fingernail, and she did it when she was in high heels."
He burst out laughing. "You sound admiring. I'll teach you a few moves, bambina, but you'll have bodyguards from now on, even when you go to a restroom. I have a female cousin or two trained in security."
"Of course you do." She rolled her eyes. "Emilio and Enzo have a sister, do they?"
He nodded. "Enrica. I've already asked her to come on board."
"Did you think you might want to consult with me first?"
"I told you, I don't argue. You like that shit and I'm just not going there with you when something needs to be done, like hiring a female bodyguard to watch you everywhere."
"So Emilio and Enzo can go back to looking out for you?" Her tone was just a little shy of challenging him, but she had faith in Emilio and Enzo and wanted them looking out for Stefano, not her.
Stefano laughed again, the notes warm and alluring. The so
und washed over her like the sun, bright and warm. She didn't hear him laugh nearly enough and it was disarming. At the hotel, Emilio opened the door for them and Stefano slid out, retaining possession of her hand so that she followed him out of the vehicle and was drawn close. She realized Stefano always did that. He liked her close. She found herself smiling in spite of the fact that he hadn't answered.
In the privacy of the elevator, she leaned into him. "Will your mother call Barry Anthon and tell him where I am? Or ask him questions about me?"
His eyebrow shot up. "You're my fiancee. You have my ring on your finger and I told her in no uncertain terms that we would be married as soon as possible. She understands that, whether or not she agrees or likes it. That makes you family."
"I'm confused, Stefano. She really didn't like me. Won't she try to find a way to stop us from being married? Barry would be her perfect solution."
The doors opened and they stepped into the apartment. "It doesn't work that way, Francesca. Not in our family. Family is family. You protect your family. Close ranks around them. My mother is all about family to the extent of everything else. She would never betray you to Barry Anthon or anyone else. It just isn't done."
She tried to grasp what that meant. The enormity of it. His mother had been so adamant. Clearly, mother and son had major issues. Still, he was absolutely certain she wouldn't call Barry or his mother. "I don't . . ." She trailed off, shaking her head.
Stefano stopped abruptly and tipped her chin up to his. "She would protect you. Physically protect you. Step in front of you if a bullet headed your way. As long as my claim is on you, any one of my family would do so."
She would have done that for Cella, or for one of Cella's children. She didn't want to think that Cella would never have a child for her to protect.
"You have all of us. And Emmanuelle. She'll have children. They all belong to you now, Francesca. Can't you feel that when you're with them?"
"This is all so new to me, Stefano." She'd been beaten down so far by Barry Anthon and his men that she had lost herself. Her strength. Her belief in anyone. His family was so opposite of everything she'd come to believe it was difficult to comprehend that they could be real. "Sometimes I feel like I'm in the middle of a fairy tale and any minute I'm going to wake up and you'll be gone."
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