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Capello Brothers 2 Command My Heart

Page 6

by J'aimee Brooker


  I didn’t want to nor did I think it’d be possible to spend any more time apart from her.

  Because of the bike situation, I’d never been to her house, something that had never felt too unusual until now. How could I be so invested in someone and not even know something as basic as her address?

  Checking the system files, though arguably not the most moral decision would at least give me her address; sure she’d be pissed off but I had to do something. Digging through the pile of paperwork on my desk I pulled out her employee paperwork and realised she’d never filled in her address, now I was worried.

  Pulling out my phone, I decided to text,

  “Inta. It’s been a week. I miss you, please let me see you”.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Another week had passed; if I didn’t see Inta soon I’d have to assume it was over. She'd made no attempt to make contact and had ignored mine.

  I’d hardly slept since Inta left and had carried my phone with me night and day waiting desperately for her to call or text. Every time the doors to the studio opened my heart skipped a beat wondering if it was her. But nothing. For two weeks.

  Fortunately, the studio had been busy which had been a good distraction and for the first time since we opened I was completely on top of the paperwork.

  It was mid-afternoon when my phone beeped,

  “Dom, please come and see me?”

  “Yes. I’m on my way. Text me your address” I said, grabbing the keys to the new ute that I’d bought. I hadn’t driven it yet; the signwriter had dropped it off last week with all the new decals and studio logos in place, and it’d been sitting in the same place since. I’d been waiting to take Inta for the first spin.

  As I left the end of the street, I got her text with her address. She was living in the worst possible neighbourhood in the suburb, the street was constantly in the news for serious crime incidents and only last year there’d been a sexual assault there. What on earth was Inta thinking living there; she most certainly wouldn’t be by the end of today if I had my way.

  Pulling into her street, I started paying attention to the house numbers; searching to find hers, number 29 and watching closely as people in the neighbourhood started walking outside checking out the ute. Right about now, getting the ute completely sign-written seemed like such a stupid idea; I’d be surprised if I left with the ute at all, let alone in the same condition. When the kids started filling the street, calling out and playing chicken with me and the other cars on the road, I’d seen enough. I’d heard about this street but figured it couldn’t be as bad as the media made it sound; unfortunately the reports were accurate, this place was horrid, and Inta was living here.

  Finding Inta’s place was a shock in itself; it was like a fort—security screens on every window, a security company sign hammered into the front weatherboard, and heavy black screen door which on closer inspection was home to almost half a dozen locks. It was clear now why she’d never brought me home to her place and even more clear why she liked my house so much. This was awful.

  I knocked and waited. It felt like an eternity; maybe she’d changed her mind and didn’t want to see me but finally the door opened and my breath caught in my throat, it’d been two weeks and I could’ve cried at the relief of seeing her again. She looked flustered and a bit upset, but nonetheless, still beautiful.

  “Hi” I sputtered, completely unsure what to say.

  She opened the door and let me in.

  “Hi Dom” she smiled weakily, “thanks for coming”.

  I grabbed her waist on the way past and pulled her into me, bending to kiss her but she shook her head and kept her mouth firmly closed.

  “Oh, Inta, no. Please, don’t do this” I murmured against her hair.

  Instead of saying anything she simply pushed me backwards and ran. I hadn’t realised that things between us were this bad, this was a break up if ever I’d seen one. But I couldn’t live without her and there was no way I was leaving today without putting up one hell of a fight to keep her.

  Following her into the hallway, I could hear her vomiting, “Inta, can I come in?” I called from behind the door, “please, let me help”.

  When the vomiting kept going, I walked in and pulled her hair back, there was little else I could do to help. Once she finally stopped, I grabbed a facewasher that was sitting close by and wet it, before sitting behind her and pulling her back into me. Holding the washer to her head, I whispered, “let’s get you home to bed”.

  “Dom, I am home” she replied.

  “I can’t leave you here Inta. Come home with me. I want us to go to bed together every night; I want to wake up with you beside me every morning. You can change anything you want to in the house to make it suit you better, just please come home with me. I love you Inta, I’m in love with you” I pleaded.

  Minutes passed, and her stomach seemed to have calmed so I stood and picked her up off the floor and carried her back out to the living area which happened to double as her bedroom.

  “Tell me what needs to change between us and I’ll make it happen” I said, lowering her onto the bed and smoothing back her hair from her face. Sitting beside her, stroking her face, she started to cry. “Inta, please tell me you’re not breaking up with me? I thought I’d done everything the way you wanted, I thought you were enjoying yourself as well?”

  “Dom—”, she started, “I’m… we’re… pregnant” she blurted out before bursting into tears and rolling away from me.

  I think it was shock that set in first then pride, then before I could stop it, the tears came—“No way!” I finally mustered, instinctively placing my hand across her stomach, “wow. God Inta, wow! That’s… amazing!”

  “You’re… happy?” she said sitting up and looking me in the eye questioningly.

  “Of course! I’m kind of a bit shocked but, wow, I’m stoked. Wait, you’re not happy?” I asked, feeling the air getting sucked out of my body. I’d be devastated if she wasn’t happy.

  “No, I am happy Dom, I was scared you wouldn’t be. I had planned to tell you the day I left the studio, but then we argued and I started to worry that maybe this wasn’t the right move…” she replied back hesitantly.

  “So you’ve known for two weeks?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry for not telling you Dom, I really am but I’ve been struggling with trying to come to terms with it myself and I needed to get my own feelings under control before telling you, in case—“ she trailed off.

  “There’s no ‘in case’ Inta. Oh wow, I’m going to be a dad” I laughed out loud, “you’re going to be a mum! God, Inta, you’re amazing—this is amazing!”

  Looking down at her, she looked pale and fragile—nothing a good meal, some rest, and TLC wouldn’t fix. Bending over her, I kissed her head before pulling her up into my arms, settling her across my lap and tucking her head under my chin. “I love you Inta” were the only words I could think of to describe the way I felt right now.

  “I love you too Dom” she whispered, snuggling in closer to my chest.

  “Let’s go home” I whispered.

  “Yes” came her reply, “I’ll meet you there, I can’t ride—“ she said gesturing to her stomach.

  “I have solved that problem already Miss Inta” I said, settling her on her feet and pointing her in the direction of the front door.

  “Dom, wow, that’s very cool. When did you get it?” she asked.

  “I organised it after the first night you came riding with me. I wanted you to feel comfortable and it wasn’t fair to ask you to get on the bike, given everything you’d told me. But between ordering it in, getting the wheels on and the sign writing done, I only got it a couple weeks ago. I hadn’t even driven it until today—I wanted to take you on the first drive—“ I replied.

  “Then let’s go home, together” she said walking toward me and into my arms.

  “Pack what you want to keep, I’ll get Roman and Luca to pack up the rest and we can put it in storage
until we decide what to do with it”.

  “Dom, none of it is mine; it’s a furnished flat. I’ve literally only got a handful of stuff that is mine—“ she replied, almost embarrassed.

  I felt terrible for her. I knew what it was like to be able to carry your every possession on your back, we’d all had to do that when we left Italy. It was an awful, degrading feeling to know you had so little to call your own. “Let’s get what’s yours now and whatever else you need and want we can get for you when you’re feeling up to it” I offered.

  “Thank you Dom” she whispered, “I do need something this afternoon” she said, looking up at me.

  “Anything, Inta. Anything at all”

  “Will you run me a bath and shampoo my hair; it’s been weeks since I relaxed”

  “I’d already planned to” I winked back at her, “let’s go”.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The barbeque was sizzling and the smell of burning sausages hung thickly in the air. Roman had just surfaced from the kitchen after making a loaf of Michetta to eat with lunch and Luca had the tunes and drinks flowing.

  The gathering was meant as a housewarming of sorts to welcome Inta into the family and to celebrate our pregnancy.

  We’d invited Inta’s parents to the barbeque and though they’d been happy about the pregnancy decided against coming to the barbeque. Inta had been hurt by their decision but oddly enough she didn’t seem surprised. I wasn't as calm, admittedly feeling more than a little annoyed that they'd refused to celebrate such a positive time with Inta. They'd become gradually more distant with Inta as our relationship progressed and Inta took a less pivotal role in keeping their lives together. They saw the pregnancy as the final disconnect from Inta as she took on a more independent and carefree life.

  Ma was fussing about Inta, fluffing up her cushions and getting her more drinks and food than she could possibly fit in. Cassandra sat looking on, rubbing Inta’s hand from time to time and exchanging some lighthearted eye-rolling as a means of moral support. If Roman had his way, it’d be Cassandra's turn next.

  Ma had been ecstatic when we broke the news that she would be a nonna; her and Inta had immediately been taken with one another and Ma had already begun knitting blankets and had plans to pass on the traditional family recipes and cooking techniques with Inta. I knew she'd be in for a huge surprise to find Inta's complete lack of finesse in the kitchen.

  As lunch was served and we all sat together eating and enjoying each other’s company, I was struck by how strong the family connection was with us all. Cass and Inta had come into the family and fit in perfectly, which only left Luca to settle down. Looking over at him, he smiled, and lifted his beer to me, “Mate, I can’t believe I’m going to be an uncle!” he said, for about the hundredth time since we shared the news with him weeks ago when Inta hit the twelve-week mark, leading the chatter again toward the baby and how Inta was coping with the pregnancy.

  As lunch was packed away, and we sat chatting and snacking throughout the afternoon, it hit me, how amazing Inta looked. At just twenty weeks along, her belly had popped out gorgeously and we’d found out only days ago that the baby was a boy. The pride I felt looking at her was overwhelming, and I could feel the tears springing behind my eyes.

  Looking over to Roman, I nodded, indicating to him that it was time. He grabbed his camera, and headed closer to Inta and I ready to photograph the exact moment as he and I had planned earlier. He was the only one who knew about my plan and the look on his face was pure pride.

  Kneeling before her, she looked down and smiled, running her hand across my cheek before a silent realisation dawned in her eyes. I smiled and nodded, as I pulled out the ring and said the words that I’d been wanting to say since we first met, “Inta, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife”.

  “Yes!”

  ####

  More in The Capello Brothers series:

  Draw On My Heart

  After being thrust into the role of protector at an early age, Roman Capello has spent his entire adult life building a future for his mother and two younger brothers.

  With a chain of successful tattoo studios, Roman is finally getting the recognition he deserves—industry acclaim as a freehand tattooist, significant media exposure and enough business to justify adding a fifth studio to his portfolio.

  When a mysterious woman, as fragile as she is seductive, enters his life; Roman is forced to acknowledge his past, appreciate his present, and picture her in his future.

  But what is her painful secret and why does she have Roman in her sights?

  Train My Heart

  Being the youngest of three brothers has always been one of life's greatest pleasures for Luca Capello. His eldest brothers had always looked out for him and guided him through life's challenges and successes.

  Growing up without his father hadn't been easy, but living with him in Italy had been worse. Dedicated and determined to create a better future, Luca always maintained that he wanted success and structure in his life. Personal training gave him the structure and routine he needed, and his eldest brother Roman had provided him with the capital to open his own fitness centre.

  Luca's uncompromising attitude to fitness coupled with his inherited handsome looks had ensured a steady stream of mostly female clients.

  When meek and mild-mannered Isobel walks through his door seeking one-on-one training, Luca quickly sees that there's more to Isobel than meets the eye.

  With a major lack of confidence and a fragile ego stemming from a bad break-up, Luca realises he'll need to refine his "no pain, no gain" approach or risk scaring her away for good.

  Connect with the Author:

  www.jaimeebrooker.com

  Facebook

  Twitter

  Table of Contents

  More in the Capello Brothers series

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  More from the Capello Brothers: Draw On My Heart

  More from the Capello Brothers: Train My Heart

  Connect with the Author

 

 

 


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