by Billy London
“The dog’s an Italian Bolognese. The jeweller is British. The diamonds are African. Ethically sourced. If you wear it, just don’t hit anyone with it, you’ll take a good chunk of skin and bone with it.”
He wasn’t joking. The canary yellow diamond was pretty big. If that didn’t hurt, then the smaller white diamonds surrounding it would definitely leave their mark. Why was she thinking of it as a weapon? Her hands started to shake. Chase gave a yelping bark and licked her knuckle as if trying to comfort her.
“Let me help,” Rocco said softly, kneeling by her chair to untie the ring from the puppy. He was on his knees before her. And it had nothing to do with sex. The ring slid from the ribbon, the same shade of red as her nails. He held it up between his forefinger and thumb.
“This is for surviving six years without each other, God only knows how. It’s for getting over lies and mistrust. It’s my apology to you for everything that went wrong, my promise that you will never need to doubt me or my love for you. May I?” He reached around the puppy and fit the ring to her finger. The yellow set off her skin perfectly.
“Oh Rocky,” she whispered. “This ring is awesome, but the puppy is so much cooler.”
He grinned and leaned up to touch his mouth to her eyebrow. “Are you going to marry me?”
“Course I am!” She carefully put the puppy on her desk and then wrapped her arms around Rocco’s neck, tightly. It took every little bit of control to not start bawling. “I’m a mess,” she grumbled, wiping a hand under her eyes. “I’ve got an appointment in ten minutes!”
Rocco leaned back to kiss her tears away. “I’ll look after Chase.”
What? Puppy and man out of sight? “No, he’ll be good if he stays! You stay too,” she offered. “You’re very good.”
“Right. Well. Thank you, but I’m not sure your new client would be impressed.”
The puppy went skidding on her notepad before he landed on his furry little bottom and sneezed. Rocco glanced between her and the puppy. “If there was a fire at home, you’d save the puppy first, wouldn’t you?”
“You’re fine,” Anna said distractedly, kissing him.
“I’m thinking I should have saved the puppy for... Annie, are you listening?”
“Hmm?” She looked up from where her beautiful little pet was munching on the corner of her desk. “I like you.”
“Like?” he echoed in disbelief. “I just asked you to marry me, and you like me?”
“Yes. And I love my puppy.”
Rocco slowly got to his feet. “Yeah, my mum’s not going to be impressed.”
“About what?” Anna demanded, stroking Chase’s spine. “Your heart’s not broken any more, we’ve got a grandbaby here, so what would she be unimpressed about?”
Rocco shook his head. “I really should have talked the dog thing through with your dad properly.”
Anna stood up as well. “That’s what you two were whispering about in the corner?”
“I have no desire to die at your father’s hands, and he made it pretty clear that I would if you didn’t have a ring on your finger by the end of the month.”
“My dad’s a pacifist as well, so I’m glad you saw sense.”
Rocco gently touched his hand to her jaw so she could look at him. “Even if he’d told me he’d kill me if I didn’t stay away, I’d have asked you anyway. Death or no death.”
She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump of tears. “You’re starting to catch up with the puppy.”
Rocco leaned around her and caught Chase with one hand, just as he was about to take a flying leap from the edge of the table. “Good to know.”
She sighed. “I would say give us five minutes, but I can’t have a f-u-c-k in front of the p-u-p-p-y.”
Rocco made a sound of utter exasperation. “I’m confiscating the puppy.”
“You can’t do that!”
“I will until you regain your normal sense of rationality.”
“You shouldn’t have bought him for me then.”
The phone rang once for the intercom. “Anna, your client’s here!”
Anna, with Chase clutched to her chest, marched to the door and opened it. “Out you go. We can philosophise on rationality another day.”
“Woman, you have a puppy on your chest like you’re about to start breast feeding.”
Anna opened her mouth to say something particularly cutting but was interrupted. “I’m interrupting a marital argument already?”
Blouse and skirt, it’s Rocco’s mum. “Mrs. Mamione. Hi.”
The older woman gave a hesitant smile. “Is everything all right? Did you say yes?”
“I did, but now he’s being mean about my puppy.” Anna appealed instantly to his mother’s softer side. She didn’t know if the woman had one at all, but using the puppy’s paw to wave at Carmen Mamione worked immediately.
“Rocco, why are you being mean to your fiancée?”
Rocco sighed deeply, while Anna gave a rather evil laugh of satisfaction. “I’m not! I’m being ganged up on now.”
“Well come along, and we’ll talk it out. Sensibly. Anna, get your bag please.”
With Chase tucked under her arm, she turned to pick up her bag. Rocco was at her side to whisper in her ear, “Enjoy it for now, Tempesta. We’ll see who’s being mean when you’re in my bed later.”
She grinned. “Game on, Mamione. I’ve got your weak spots.”
He curled an arm around her waist to lead her out of the office. “You don’t count.”
“We’ll see.”
Epilogue
Michelle Taylor wasn’t a woman who was convinced by a nice face and a charming smile. It made sense that she wasn’t at all convinced by her daughter’s future husband. She’d done her utmost to raise her children to respect themselves first and demand the same from anyone who dared cross their paths. Anna was her pride and joy. Mothers weren’t supposed to even think that, let alone say it out loud, but Michelle did and it was all true. Anna had Michelle’s brains, her father’s wit and her grandmother’s fine legs. All she’d ever hoped for her daughter was a man to match all that Anna was capable of and more. Rocco Mamione was that on paper and in the flesh. But he had damaged her child once. Taken the shine from her eyes for too long, and in Michelle’s experience, it only meant a repeat performance was on the way.
When her husband told her that Rocco had asked his permission to marry Anna, Michelle frostily said, “I hope you said no.”
“I’m not going to be responsible for taking that doe-eyed look from my daughter’s face. Besides, he knows I’ll happily kill him if he makes my little girl cry.” Unhelpfully, a smile lifted Michelle’s features. She always got slightly overexcited when her husband became defensive about their children. Her husband turned serious. “Give him a chance, Shellie. Anna’s big enough to deal with him with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back.”
Easier said than done. With everyone, absolutely everyone and their pet parrot telling her how happy Anna was and how much they were looking forward to the wedding, all Michelle could do was put a gloss on it. Smile and acknowledge that her daughter had made a decision and she was old enough to learn from her own mistakes without her mother running in and screaming, Don’t do it! So she was polite when she needed to be, helpful if there was no other option, and didn’t comment on the fact that her daughter’s wedding dress was far too low cut. To make matters worse, that terrible boy pulled the charm thing on her.
He started with shy smiles and “hello Mrs. Taylor’s,” which always worked on her. Who knew she loved being called Mrs. Taylor? It ticked her ring finger every time without fail and made her grin. Damn the boy. So he was in his early thirties—he was still a boy to her.
At Rocco and Anna’s engagement party, he sat next to her and passed her a huge slice of his grandmother’s cake. As utterly insane as that old woman was, she made a damn good sponge. “It’s apricot and almond.”
Michelle had a weakness for any
cake with nuts in it. Dammit. “Can I ask your advice?” Rocco asked gently. Michelle choked on her cake. Her children never asked for advice. Goddammit, that was a mother’s ultimate weakness. Nosing. “Hmph,” Michelle replied.
Rocco took it as a yes. “My dad asked if he could bring someone to the wedding. I didn’t even let him finish the sentence before I said absolutely not. Mama asked me about a half hour ago if she could bring her new boyfriend. I can’t tell her no. She needs someone with her, like Mr. Taylor has you.”
Suck up, Michelle thought, despite her cheeks glowing with pleasure. “What did Anna say?”
He laughed. “Your daughter told me that I would be the one to live with it, as she planned on spending most of the wedding drunk.”
“My God, that girl’s her father’s child,” Michelle sighed. “Although she is right, you’re the one who’ll have to live with it. Talk to your mum. Does she really need to have her boyfriend there? Just for argument’s sake, how long have they been going out?”
“Three weeks.”
Michelle rolled her eyes. “For goodness’ sake, your mum can manage. She gave birth to five children,” she interrupted his protest. Sweet child, he wanted to defend his mother. “She can handle being without her boyfriend of three whole weeks for a maximum of four hours. Isn’t that fair? No favourites that way. Or at least, no girlfriends or boyfriends until the evening bit, after photographs.”
Rocco sent her a smile that made her feel she was signing a devil’s contract. “Thank you, Mrs. Taylor.”
“Call me Michelle,” she offered begrudgingly.
“All right, Mrs. Taylor,” he replied, leaning over to kiss her cheek. Michelle’s cheeks turned a fiery red. Naughty boy.
She spent Anna’s wedding day mostly in tears, so she only partly paid attention to her son-in-law. The adoration in his eyes bypassed her, the worshipful tone in his vows were ignored completely, and his thanks to her and Anna’s father was lost in the haze that she was giving away her baby girl to a man who had so much control. Only when she opened her present solely from Rocco—“I had nothing to do with it,” Anna claimed—did Michelle’s eyes dry with shock. In a white silk bed sat a string of black pearls. Michelle had a weakness for black pearls. Her husband had bribed her on many occasions with black pearls.
“Clever boy,” she muttered, instantly switching the pearls she had on for the new necklace.
“Don’t you look pretty?” Rocco complimented.
“Stop buttering me up!” Michelle fumed only for the evil boy to laugh her off. It didn’t stop him from sending Michelle and Anna on a short girly holiday before Anna had her honeymoon. “What’s he doing?” Michelle asked at the airport.
“Making sure you understand that you have gained a very thoughtful son and you still have a daughter. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Chase. That dog takes after Rocco. Trouble the minute my back is turned.”
“Ah ha! So he is trouble!”
“Ma, have you just met me?”
That was true. The girly holiday was followed by regular dinners, Rocco soliciting Michelle’s advice every now and again, especially when he wanted to buy his wife a gift. “She thinks I’ve done something wrong.”
“Have you?” Michelle demanded.
“I’m a paragon of virtue,” Rocco replied. “Your daughter corrupted me.”
It made her laugh. He always managed to do that. And bring her cakes from crazy old Nonna. She wanted to hold on to her belief that he was a bad seed, but dammit if that naughty, irascible boy wasn’t making her change her mind.
The day that Anna gave birth to her own daughter was the day Michelle finally let go. Rocco brought out her creamy-skinned granddaughter and eased her into Michelle’s arms. “Please don’t let me kill every boy who looks at her. I don’t want her to have to visit me in prison.”
Michelle burst out laughing. “We let you live, didn’t we?”
Rocco distractedly stroked his thumb over his daughter’s forehead. “That’s because you love me.”
Michelle looked up from her granddaughter’s yawn. “You know, that’s actually true.”
His smile was the seal on her soul, bound to the devil. “Knew it.”
BILLY
Thank you for reading. To read more stories in the Italian Knights series, check out the following:
Windows (Nick and Gina)
On Caristo’s Watch (Tony and Lydia)
Billy London
Ah, poor Billy. The only girl between two boys who each have nearly a foot on her. Didn't stop her from starting physical fights with them. She still thinks she can take them. So while she used to hide away in her wardrobe to read a book or four, she started to question why the heroines in those books would just lie there and take it. No, not just sex, but downright James-Bond-backhand-slapping, do-as-you're-told-woman, inappropriate lie there and take it.
She couldn't understand it. These women were just playing that mental woman from Coming to America, Miss “Whatever You Like” who barked like a dog and hopped on one foot. Billy didn't want to do that. Definitely not because one empty-headed fool with different anatomy told her to. So she started to create characters and worlds where the women could own their sexuality, their intelligence, their right to turn around and say “jog on, mate” without apology.
The small problem was that other people wanted to read what she was had written. “Er...why?” didn't cut it as an answer. After years of prodding and pleading and come on and for goodness’ sake, what's the point otherwise, she closed her eyes and pressed “submit.” Actually, she had Prosecco, limencello and white wine, then pressed “submit.” Who would have thought people would actually enjoy reading about the crazy characters who live in her head? But they have done, and Billy feels rather proud of that connection with her fellow man.
Billy lives in London with the most patient family in the world and doesn't forget for a minute how lucky she is. Well, she wouldn't mind a BBC adaptation of one of her novels... Ooh, with Richard Armitage!
Table of Contents
Title page
Glossary
Prologue
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Epilogue
Billy London
