Shadow Flight

by Christine Feehan

“If you want ice cream, you’re going to share with me.”

  “Fine, but only because I love the ice cream here.”

  “You love me.”

  “Sometimes I love you. I love ice cream all the time.”

  Berta nodded again, a small smile on her face. “Water for you, Taviano?”

  “I’ll have an Italian soda as well. Strawberry.” He waited until she left before he turned fully in the booth to face his woman. “Look at me, Nicoletta.”

  She turned in the booth to face him. “I wanted to punch her. Right in the face. I know that’s childish and absolutely wrong of me. She is your mother, and a rider, and I should find a way to be respectful, especially with everyone around, but I was so afraid of jumping up and attacking her or screaming insults at her right in front of everyone that I had to leave. I had to. I couldn’t say anything because if one word escaped . . . I was so angry at her, I didn’t know what might slip. She’s just so above everyone else. She acts like she’s so much better. That she can plan our children’s lives and we’re just going to let her do it. I’ll burn in hell first, Taviano. She’s not getting near our children.”

  Taviano couldn’t take his eyes off Nicoletta’s impassioned expressions as they moved across her face. The anger. The guilt. The ferociousness. The protectiveness. She was everything he could ever want. He’d wanted passion and he’d gotten it in abundance. Just seeing those expressions chasing across her face and blazing in her eyes had him wanting to sweep the basket of dried flowers off the table and lay her down on it. She was so beautiful.

  “I’m not a mind reader, tesore. You could have indicated to me when we were alone in the elevator that it wasn’t me you were upset with.”

  She frowned. “Why in the world would I be upset with you? And upset is a very insipid word for what I was feeling. Angry. Emotional. Wanting to commit murder. She was talking about our children. Weren’t you just a little bit angry?”

  He rubbed his jaw and the five-o’clock shadow already on full display there. “I really hate to tell you this, piccola, but Eloisa honestly thought she was giving you a compliment. Producing riders from a spectacular bloodline is the one thing she prizes in a woman. You have a spectacular bloodline.”

  “Yay me.” Sarcasm dripped. “I’m so very glad your mother approves.”

  He hooked his palm around the nape of her neck, his thumb sliding along her cheek. “You are extraordinary, Nicoletta, in so many ways. Our children will be as well. No one will have a say in their lives but us. We’ll decide what we want for them. And then they’ll decide. That’s a long way off. Right now, it’s your life and you decide whether or not you’re going to be a rider. Stefano would never have allowed you into that meeting if he wasn’t going to say you were one of us. Obviously, you have to train more. You need to learn so much more before you can actually participate.”

  Nicoletta nodded. “I’m fine with that. I’m not ready to be whatever it is you call yourselves. I do want to go along though and learn. I want my body to get used to the feel and pull on it. I can tell each time I go, it’s easier.”

  Taviano’s phone buzzed. He glanced down. “Stefano says they’re having dinner and to come back when we’re finished here because there is quite a bit more to discuss.”

  “I guess I gave your mother a good opportunity to take another dig at me about not keeping my temper.”

  He tipped her chin up. “You can pretend with Stefano if you want, but you aren’t feeling in the least bit guilty or remorseful. You wanted to punch my mother, woman. Own it. Don’t give me that I-should-have-stuck-around mask.”

  “I was looking at my lap so I wouldn’t have to try for the mask,” she pointed out. “And don’t say I wanted to punch your mother where someone might hear.”

  “Only Emilio and Enzo are close enough to hear us right now.”

  “My point exactly. They are related to you.” She glanced over to the other table. “Please tell me that their mother or father isn’t a sibling to your mother.” She dropped her face into her palm.

  Taviano glanced over to the bodyguards. Both men were valiantly looking at the menus. He knew they had the menu memorized, as many times as they came there. They’d already ordered. They were desperately trying not to laugh. He flashed them a small grin.

  “Taviano.” She hissed his name between her teeth.

  He leaned over and kissed her. The moment he touched her lips, he knew he shouldn’t have, not there in the privacy of that restaurant, not there in the dark. She ignited for him and burned, a fuse that detonated an explosive in him. She leaned into him as he put pressure on the nape of her neck, pulling her closer to him.

  She slid her hands up his chest. His heart accelerated. She did that to him every time. Little flames licked at his skin while electricity snapped between them. Heat rushed through his veins and hot blood filled his cock. His heart beat there, throbbing and aching for her. He wished they were home and he could have her. He could be in her. He had to stop kissing her. That way was disaster, and it was also paradise.

  Berta cleared her throat. Reluctantly, Taviano lifted his head enough to press his forehead against Nicoletta’s. “What is it, Berta?”

  “Your drinks, Taviano.”

  “Put them on the table, Berta,” he said without lifting his head. He kept his eyes closed, inhaling Nicoletta’s scent. He was so in love with her. She mattered to him more than anyone or anything else.

  “I have. And the antipasto as well. Um. Mr. Petrov doesn’t like public displays of affection in his restaurant. He used to be cool about it, but ever since his wife died, he gets upset when couples start kissing and he throws them out. Just a heads-up warning. I’m sorry.”

  Taviano did look up then. He wasn’t a teenage boy caught in the booth by the older Petrov sneaking kisses with a fifteen-year-old. He was grown, and Petrov had known him for years. He couldn’t imagine the man kicking him out, let alone sending Berta to reprimand him.

  Nicoletta’s laughter escaped. “I’m so going to tell Francesca and the others. Especially Sasha. Taviano Ferraro, the playboy of the world, reprimanded in a pizzeria for kissing his wife. You weren’t even getting all handsy. I’m dreadfully disappointed.”

  “I can get handsy if you want. They’ll kick us out. It could be front-page news. I know most of the paparazzi by name now. Maybe a photograph as well.”

  “Think of the publicity it would generate. Do you have a race coming up? Something you need to market?” Nicoletta turned in the booth and put her feet back on the floor, reaching for her Italian soda. “I really am going to tell Francesca.”

  “If you do, it will get back to Stefano and the others,” he warned. “We’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “I know”—she sent him a wicked grin—“you mean you’ll never hear the end of it. The boys are very careful of me. They treat me with kid gloves.”

  She was right. His brothers were very careful of her. They were all too aware of the terrible things that had happened to her. That had been one of the reasons, as he had gotten older, that he didn’t want his family to know what had happened to him. The knowledge would change how he would be treated. It would be subtle, but they would be much more careful of him. There would be less teasing. Most likely, Stefano would yell at him less. The bottom line was, he didn’t want his family to treat him any differently.

  He understood what Nicoletta meant when she had told him long ago that it was humiliating that his family had read the reports. She hadn’t known just how detailed those reports had been or she would have been even more humiliated. He would have had a very difficult time facing his brothers at the age of ten, given his parents’ reaction. He didn’t think they’d ever tease him, but he didn’t know what children would do at that age. Now, he didn’t want to find out even as a grown man.

  He lifted the tall glass to his lips. There was condensation on the ou
tside. Fresh strawberries and ice filled the glass, along with the light-colored liquid. It looked refreshing and tasted as good. Her glass was similar but filled with fresh peaches and ice. The color was more toward clear, just a slight peachy color, but when she tasted it, she smiled.

  “Perfect. I have to learn to make these.”

  “The drinks and the pie are always the best here,” he said.

  “And the bread.” She took a breadstick. She never used the marinara dip, but he did. She preferred the salty oil. She dipped the breadstick in the oil and took a bite. “This is so delicious. I was careful not to come in very often. I would end up weighing a ton.”

  He looked her over. “You’d look beautiful even weighing a ton.”

  She laughed. “You’d probably really think that. I don’t want to get diabetes. No shots for me, thank you. I’ll just keep Petrov’s as a special treat.” She looked up as Tito Petrov sauntered over with their very large pizza and placed it on the table.

  “Made it myself, just the way you like it, Taviano. Nicoletta, you look beautiful tonight.” He took her hand as if he might bend over it to kiss it, saw immediately she was wearing a wedding ring and straightened, looking shocked. His gaze jumped from Taviano to Nicoletta and back. “You two married?” He looked at Taviano’s left hand. “Holy shit. You’re married. To each other. You’re fuckin’ married. How come no one knows?”

  “We’re planning a big wedding soon, but I couldn’t wait to get the ring on her finger. You know how she’s always got one foot on the road leading out of here.”

  Nicoletta pretended to ignore them so she could get a jump on eating the pizza. She wasn’t fooling him. He knew she loved pizza, and she was already calmly eating a slice and declaring it hot and good. Not to be outdone, Taviano took a slice and bit into it. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was very hot. He nearly burned his mouth. She sent him a smug smile.

  “Congratulations, you two. Should I keep it quiet? I mean, I’ll tell my dad, but he won’t say anything.” Tito looked around the pizza parlor as if he wanted to make an announcement right then.

  “We’d prefer that you didn’t say anything yet,” Taviano said. “We’d like to have a week to ourselves before the madness starts. You know what it’s like. You’ve seen the circus enough times when one of us marries. Nicoletta wants things low key, and so do I.”

  Tito nodded. “I understand. I’ll protect your privacy. Your family has always supported us, even through our darkest times. No matter what, you’ve come through.”

  “Don’t be so nice to him, Tito. He was nearly kicked out for too much PDA.”

  Tito’s eyebrows shot up. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your dad’s policy on public displays of affection. Taviano broke that rule so fast. He should have been thrown out but was shown mercy, which he didn’t deserve.” Nicoletta snagged another piece and smiled. “If you tossed him now, I could eat this entire pizza and have ice cream all to myself.”

  “She forgot her cash,” Taviano pointed out with complete complacency. He grabbed the largest slice of pizza left, just in case the little monster he was married to managed to put away several slices to his one.

  “Sorry, hon, no cash, he’s gotta stay.” Tito sounded regretful, but he winked at Taviano as he turned away.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Once back at the penthouse, Nicoletta and Taviano took the same small couch they’d been sitting on before. Taviano liked how comfortable the sofa was, but mostly he preferred it because he could sit very close to his woman and shield her when he felt she needed it. Stefano had the fireplace going, the logs burning brightly, giving the room a soft glow that hadn’t been there before. He rarely remembered to switch on the flames, not unless Francesca was around. Taviano knew his older brother had done that for Nicoletta, just to make the room seem more of a home to her.

  Nicoletta had come to Stefano’s penthouse often, especially in the last two years. She trained there in self-defense, and she was very disciplined about keeping her schedule. She didn’t miss a single class. As she progressed, the family had scheduled more and more classes with her, and she had managed to make every one of them. After, she would often stay and play with Crispino and visit with Francesca, so she was very comfortable there.

  Taviano thought those times, just relaxing with his siblings and especially his in-laws, helped bring Nicoletta closer to the family. She smiled more and even laughed at Crispino’s antics. She had always liked the fireplace on, and when Stefano would light the flames, telling his son not to go near the grate to keep him from harm.

  “We’ve come back to discuss some things that I think are extremely important for all riders,” Stefano said. “I trust everyone has had dinner and is comfortable? Eloisa?” He looked to his mother.

  She nodded. “Henry and I had a lovely dinner, thank you, Stefano.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t always say things the way I mean them. Clearly, when I spoke earlier, Nicoletta, I upset you. I am happy that you carry such strong Archambault genetics, but I didn’t mean that all you’re good for is to have baby after baby. I know it came out that way, and I’m sorry. Henry says I don’t think before I speak, and he’s right. I have no social skills.”

  Taviano nearly fell from his seat, so shocked by his mother’s explanation he could barely comprehend what she’d said. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one. Looking around the room, he saw his brothers, cousins and the other women were equally as stunned.

  Nicoletta sent Eloisa a small smile. “Thank you for that. I certainly have no intention of being the family broodmare, although I want children.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Marcellus Archambault in France,” Stefano said. “About a half hour ago, Nicoletta. He’s reviewed all the videos of you. I told him, although I haven’t had the chance to tell everyone here, about you stepping up when the two Demons turned their guns on me.”

  He paused, and Taviano knew he wanted Eloisa to realize he had really been in danger. Her head went up alertly.

  “There was no shadow for me to hide in. Taviano was too far to reach one of them. At best, he might have gotten to the other. Nicoletta was outside, watching, where we told her to stay. She picked up a rock and threw it using a method one might for skipping it on a lake, but so fast it actually whistled through the air. The first struck one, and a second rock came right on the heels of the first, striking the other gunman. Both rocks were thrown with deadly accuracy. Not only did the sound distract them from shooting, but when they were struck, they both turned away from me.”

  Stefano glanced up at Taviano. “Had you ever seen that before?”

  Taviano shook his head. “No. I was a little shocked that not only could she think that fast, but she could throw rocks that fast.”

  “My father, meaning my adoptive father, taught me to skip rocks from a very young age. He could make them whistle when he skipped them, and I loved it. I practiced until I had it down.” Nicoletta gave a little shrug as if it was nothing.

  “It was fast thinking,” Stefano said. “Very fast. That was one of the things Marcellus was most impressed with. Not just Nicoletta’s reflexes or the way her body reacts in the shadows, but her overall ability to adapt to every situation.”

  Taviano’s heart suddenly dropped. “He wants her to go to France, doesn’t he?”

  “Stefano,” Emmanuelle objected. “No. She’s ours. He can’t just demand she go to them because she has their blood. She’s Taviano’s wife. I hope you told him that. They’re already married. We’re planning a wedding, but they’re already married.” She was adamant.

  “No one can force her to go,” Stefano said, his voice calm. “But yes, he would like to train her himself.”

  Nicoletta’s hand trembled in his. Taviano tightened his fingers around hers, giving her reassurance. She wasn’t ready to go to other families, especially those predominantly male. She
needed to establish herself where she was, gain confidence, build her own identity. He knew that as well as she did.

  “What would you like to do, tesoro?” Taviano asked. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you.”

  “This is my family,” Nicoletta said. “The people here. I’m just starting to recover and find myself. I want to stay here and train. If, in the future, that advantage is still open for me, then I’ll consider it when I feel I’m able, but right now, I know I’m not ready. Please thank him for me, Stefano, but I can’t go to France at this time.”

  Taviano could hear the pleading in her voice for understanding, and he didn’t like it. She didn’t need to defend herself to anyone.

  “I was hoping you would opt to stay with us,” Stefano said.

  Taviano could have kissed him. Over and over his brother proved why he was not only the leader of the Ferraro shadow riders but also of their family. He might have a ferocious temper, but he was also compassionate, and he seemed to know what each family member needed. Nicoletta had been treated as a member of their family almost from the moment they had brought her back from New York with them. Stefano had so easily just made her feel as if she was wanted there by all of them. A few simple words were all it took from the head of the family, voiced in that casual way he had that spoke volumes.

  “Elie is here, and he’s indicated he’s willing to help with your training in and out of the shadows. He’s been working with Vittorio, Ricco and Mariko as well as Emmanuelle and me. Giovanni and Taviano were scheduled next. Severino and Geno have both indicated, as heads of their families, that they would like additional training for their families as well. We all know that no matter how much we train, our bodies do dictate some of what we can do. That’s why we train with those faster than us to try to always be better. What Marcellus was getting across, Nicoletta, is that your genetics will allow you to be faster and see more in the shadows than most others can.” Stefano sent her a smile. “That’s a good thing. But it also means that you might have a tendency to, once you’re comfortable, not train as hard.”