by Fiona Cole
Nova: Jesus, Raelynn.
Raelynn: Don’t act like you’re not curious.
Nova: I mean, I am, but we can be a little less direct.
Raelynn: Nah. Not my style.
Raelynn: Sooo…
Nova: …
Raelynn: Okay, okay. It’s still pretty early. I’ll wait and hope you’re having epic morning sex.
Nova: Just message us to let us know you’re alive.
Raelynn: Also, message us so I can tell you about how Nova went Instagram live with PARKER FREAKING CALLAN from her fav band.
Nova: I hate you so much.
Raelynn: Naughty Nova came out to dance after too many Vodka Gimlets last night, and he was doing an Instagram Live, inviting fans to join him and talk. I maaaaaay have requested to join under her name, and he maaaaaay have accepted, and I maaaaaay have shown her shaking her ass while she rapped out Missy Elliot.
Nova: Seriously…the worst friend ever.
Raelynn: You’re spelling best friend wrong.
I laughed, looking over their exchange this morning, wanting to FaceTime them and hear all about what happened.
“What’s so funny?”
Nico walked in, sweatpants back in place, his hair damp and pushed back carelessly, somehow still looking perfect.
“Just the girls.”
“Tell them I said hi.”
“Umm…okay?”
“What?” he asked.
“Why?”
“Well, they’re your friends. You’re my wife. Your friends are important to you, so it’s in my best interest to be friendly with them.”
“Oh…well, thank you.”
He nodded and almost sat down when a knock at the door announced our food.
They rolled the carts in, placing the silver domes on the long table so quickly and quietly, it was like they weren’t even there.
Again, I found myself wondering about the kind of money Nico had. My family did well, but we didn’t stay in penthouse suites of one of the top hotels in New York. We didn’t have silent butlers deliver our food in a way only an obscene amount of money could buy. I’d done research on his company, and it had barely dipped their toe into international shipping, but his wealth screamed worldwide success.
He poured himself a cup of coffee—no cream or sugar—and sat down, pushing a plate of pancakes and bacon my way.
“So, do you have any friends I should be friendly with?”
He chewed his bacon and watched me, thinking over his answer. I was having a moment on our first day of marriage, realizing that I still knew so little about him.
Not that it mattered. Our agreement was for a purpose, and that purpose wasn’t to know every little detail about each other. This was business.
“I have Ryan.”
“Your assistant?”
“Yeah, who else?”
“A Ryan you don’t pay?” He looked perplexed, and I wanted to laugh that he was so thrown by me asking him about friends. “Do you have any friends you get drinks with? Hang out with? Went to school with?”
“I have acquaintances I get drinks with.”
“Jesus, Nico. Do you talk to anyone outside of work?” I asked, laughing.
“I have a friend from college, Xander. But he works just as much as I do and does most of his business overseas. Which was why he couldn’t attend the wedding.”
“Oh. Maybe I could meet him sometime.”
“Sure. The next time he’s in town. I think he’s just as intrigued to meet you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“He wants to know the woman who could make me settle down.”
“Did you not plan on ever marrying?”
He took another bite, his brows dropping. “I didn’t think about it. I was so focused on work and building my business, I never considered anything beyond that. And then my grandpa’s health declined, and he pushed his desire to see me with a family on me, and then…you came crashing in.”
“I’d hardly call it crashing.”
“You did bump into me,” he joked.
“Oh, my god. I did not.”
“Is this going to be like Ross and Rachel and the whole break thing, where we argue about who was right and wrong for years to come?”
“One—I’m right. You were drunk and looking at your phone. Two—I still can’t get over that you watched Friends.”
“I had the flu last winter and happened to start it on Netflix and ended up watching it the whole way through.”
“It happens,” I said, nodding in understanding. “So, what are we doing with all our stuff?”
“We’ll leave it at the front desk. I have someone picking it up to take it to the house.”
“What airline are we flying with?”
“It’s a private jet Xander and I share and rent out on occasion.”
“You have your own plane?” I asked, my brows shooting high.
“It’s not like it’s a seven-forty-seven.”
“Still. I’ve never been on a private plane before.”
Giddiness flooded through me, and I couldn’t help but smile. The more I imagined driving right up to the plane and walking up the steps to the soft buttery leather, a flight attendant bringing me champagne and strawberries, the happier I got. A giggle slipped free, and I bit my lip to hold back any more.
He watched me like he saw something he’d never seen before, and I heated under his inspection.
“I’m glad I’ll get to be your first.”
He finished the innuendo with a wink, and between the night before, the pancakes, the happiness, and playfulness, something clicked in place. Something that lay with the other shards of my life in my chest snapped together with another one and eased some of the pressure.
It’s slow, bambino. A marriage born from a merger isn’t scary. It may not be the princesses you love to watch, but it has its own magic. Kind of like Beauty and the Beast. She did it for more than herself—for her family. Our business and our traditions are our family. We must respect them. This marriage may start off with resentment and a begrudging respect, but with time and patience, it grows. One sharp piece at a time, the marriage comes together, and before you realize it even happened, you love each other and can’t imagine ever not.
My mother’s words stole my breath a moment.
Were these the pieces she told me about? Did I want them to be?
Was I falling in love with my husband one small piece at a time?
For the first time, I wondered if maybe Nico was the man my mother told me about.
For the first time, the thought of Nico being my first—of being many firsts didn’t sound so bad.
Maybe this honeymoon would lock more in place.
Maybe he had the shards too, and we’d both create something by the end of all this.
Maybe I could be some of his firsts too.
Twenty-Six
Nico
Lorenzo must have been hurting financially longer than I thought because Vera’s wonder at every extravagance was better than the last.
Of course, the private plane was over the top even with the wealthiest of people, but when I asked if she flew first class, she let me know that she really didn’t travel at all. Her father went alone or not at all. She’d only been to Italy once when she was little before her mother passed.
For a family rooted so deeply in tradition, they didn’t do much together. The last time she’d seen her grandparents was a month after her mother’s funeral.
“This is where we’re staying?” she gasped, looking out the window of our hired car.
She looked like a kid outside of a candy shop, almost pressing her nose to the glass to get a closer look. She whipped her head around with wide-eyed wonder, her smile growing bigger by the second. She’d been doing it the entire drive, trying to take in every inch of history she could. But now that we’d stopped in front of the double doors of the hotel, she unbuckled and closed the gap between us, pressing every inch of her leg to mine.
/> The sun hadn’t even begun to rise yet, but the streetlights illuminated the Spanish Steps stretched down below. Her excitement blinded her to how tightly she pressed against me while she tried to look out my window. However, not even the pope with hundred-dollar bills raining from the sky could pull my attention away from her soft breasts pressed against my arm—the heat of her thigh warming mine. I ached to brush the hair back behind her ear to bare her smooth neck and rain kisses down until she became lost in the pleasure.
“Signora?” A member of the hotel staff held her door open.
She looked back at the open door and quickly flicked her eyes to me before scooting back.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“Don’t be. Your excitement is quite endearing.”
She exhaled a soft laugh and smiled. Tucking the strand of hair I so desperately wanted to touch behind her ear, she scooted back, thanking the attendant as he helped her out.
By the time we checked in, the sun had just begun to crest the edges of Rome.
“I can’t believe this is our room,” she said, twirling to take it all in. She stopped and faced me, her lips stretching into a devious smirk. “I mean, it’s only the second to top floor, but I guess it will do.”
My lips twitched at her sarcasm. “Ha. Ha. We would have been at the top, but I think someone famous already nabbed it.”
Her eyes widened further. “I wonder who it is?”
“Probably no one special.” For a moment, I struggled to hold back the words rolling through my head. I forced myself to stop before I added no one as special as you. The warmth from our wedding came back, bigger than before, and I struggled to push it back like I had before, but I refused to focus on it, the truth of what it may be too much to handle at six in the morning.
“If Raelynn was here, she’d make us stake out the room to figure it out.”
“You mean, she’d stalk them.”
She scrunched her nose but then shrugged and laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”
Silence fell, filling the room. Opulence surrounded every inch around us, and we stood like two strangers who knew what the other was thinking, but neither would admit it.
At least, she thought she knew what I was thinking. She probably assumed I was looking for a way to seduce her, but instead, I grew frantic with a way to make this soft heat growing in my chest go away.
She looked stunning in black leggings, tennis shoes, and an oversized cardigan. Her hair flowed around her face, and her eyes shined with excitement. The longer they took me in, the more they softened and warmed. She may not know what I was thinking, but I knew she thought about our wedding night and how she wanted more. I also knew her stubbornness would hold her back. Then she blinked, and a new look softened her face. She smiled, looking almost embarrassed as she dropped her eyes to the floor. When she lifted her eyes to mine, something I’d never seen before—from any woman—hit me hard. A look I couldn’t identify but felt like kerosene to the warmth in my chest.
“It’s early,” I said, almost choking on the words, desperate to escape. “Why don’t you clean up while I unpack and get us settled.”
She blinked again, and the look disappeared. I told myself I was grateful, but a part of me missed it already.
“Okay. I’ll just take a quick shower. Maybe I can take a nap before we head out for the day.”
“Sounds good.”
She grabbed a few items and disappeared into the bathroom with one last look over her shoulder, like she was looking at me for the first time.
I quickly unpacked a few items and stowed our suitcases away, wishing I could shove this feeling into the drawer with our clothes. Hearing the shower running, a plan hit me. The most surefire way to make Vera look at me with annoyance again, and hopefully, take this feeling away was to press her.
I grabbed a pair of pants and headed into the bathroom. Her long limbs and slick skin had me hardening instantly. I tracked the water, sliding down her body, across her pert nipples, and between her legs. God, I wanted to storm in there, pick her up and shove inside her, putting us both out of our misery. Her body was a work of art, and I wanted to study every inch—with my tongue.
I stripped and waited for her to notice me, but she closed her eyes and rinsed her hair, letting out a yelp when I announced my presence.
“What the fuck, Nico?” she screeched and struggled to cover her body.
Infusing arrogance into action, I slowly cocked a brow and looked her up and down. “I’ve seen it all before, Verana. Why hide?”
Instead of answering, she lifted her chin and glowered, doing her best not to look me up and down as well.
“I was ready to shower now, so why wait?”
“Because I’m in here.”
“So? You’re my wife.”
I hit a button with that comment, and she dropped her arms, stepping close. “So? It doesn’t mean you get me whenever you want.”
I stepped into her too, groaning when the head of my cock brushed her stomach. She gasped but didn’t pull away. “Are you sure about that, Verana?” I asked, brushing her slick hair back from her forehead. “Would you like me to jack off for you again?”
She scoffed but didn’t say no.
“Don’t think I couldn’t hear your little pants of need. Hell, I could smell your sweet arousal. It reminded me of how delicious your pussy is.” She swallowed, and my lips quirked up, and I leaned closer. “I could drop to my knees right now, lift your thigh over my shoulder, and eat your sweet cunt. I’d love nothing more than to bury my tongue inside you and flick your clit. Best fucking breakfast ever.”
I ran my nose along her cheek, moving to nip at her ear.
“Five years is a long time, Verana. Just give in.”
And that snapped her out of it. She stepped back, and I watched her struggle to harden against the desire flooding her body.
“No.” With that, she quickly rinsed off and left, snagging a towel on her way.
“You can run, Verana, but we both know you want it as much as I do.”
She glared over her shoulder. “Fuck you, Nicholas.”
I laughed at her frustration, feeling a little lighter, with most of the warmth gone. But worried because some still lingered, digging in deep to places I never knew existed.
When I got out of the shower, I found Vera curled up on the edge of the bed, already passed out. I even whispered her name to make sure she wasn’t feigning sleep. But when I removed her phone from her nightstand, she still didn’t move a muscle.
I quickly guessed her password for her phone and connected it to the USB Xander gave me. The program would keep her phone looking like it was working but block any news and calls from her father and their company. Two weeks was what I needed to complete the takeover, and if she knew what was going on while we were gone, she’d turn us around before I could hit go.
I sat the phone back down and plugged it in just as it was. Slowly shutting the door, I watched for any movement from her and hit Archer’s number.
“The shares just went through,” he greeted, not bothering with niceties. We’d worked together so long, there was no need.
“Good. Has anyone been alerted?”
“Not that I can tell. I had to do some digging in the records, but the clause states that once she is married, they are hers, free of anyone else’s control.”
I’d been acquiring shares of Mariano Shipping for years. Small bits here and there through various shell companies as I didn’t want to raise any red flags, but it had never been enough. At least it hadn’t until Verana fell into my lap with just enough to her name to put me over the edge. With her portion now mine, and Mariano Shipping scrambling silently with finances, I had everything I needed to put it in motion.
“We’re here for three days and then onto a yacht. Xander gave me a program that makes her phone lose service, and she’ll be none the wiser.”
“Good. I’ll push these papers through and wait for your signal.”
“
Good.”
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening.”
“Yeah,” I muttered.
“Don’t sound so excited,” Archer deadpanned.
I rubbed at the growing warmth in my chest, flashing back to Vera’s giggles when we received champagne upon entering the private jet.
Then I remembered my grandfather’s cries when he realized he was losing his wife’s family’s company—the only thing he had left of her.
Like ice water to a fire, I hardened my heart. With an ounce less of confidence than before, I answered. “I am happy this is happening.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
We hung up, and the long day of travel hit me. I went into the room and found Vera now sprawled, her lithe body taking up every inch of space on her side of the bed, her hand reaching out to my side like she unintentionally searched for me. I lay down and dragged my fingers down her open palm, unprepared for when she latched on and curled closer to me.
No doubts. I reminded myself.
I’d worked for too long and too hard to let this woman hold me back.
I refused to let this heat she created in me burn my goals to the ground.
Twenty-Seven
Vera
“Okay, I have to ask. What are you doing?”
My face scrunched while I watched him bend down for the third time that day to pick up a rock and shove it in his pocket.
“Oh, just a tradition we did with my family,” he explained.
He looked away and huffed a laugh. I watched him, intrigued by the soft curve of his lips as he thought over whatever this family tradition was. The Italian sun slowly dropped in the sky as the day turned to night and the reds, purples, oranges, and pinks glowed like the perfect backdrop behind his broad chest encased in a snowy white shirt. His dark complexion made him look more Italian than me, and yet, he still stood out as unique among the straggling tourists around the Trevi Fountain.
“My father started it. He would collect rocks at special locations everywhere we went, and my grandfather continued it for me after my parents passed.”