I feel a conversation brewing and it’s not one I’m ready for, not this side of the wedding, in spite of Faye’s encouragement to think otherwise. It’s waited all these years; it can at least wait another week or two, or more.
It was hard enough being cracked open for all to see at the dinner table. Losing my composure, this week of all weeks, and in such spectacular fashion...
No. I will deal with it later.
Much later.
As for Faye...she’s the perfect distraction from it all and one that I’m more than willing to entertain if it will keep my mind from veering into the past and whatever pain I glimpsed in Marianna.
I understand why Faye is encouraging me to talk to her. Her relationship with her own mother had been a good one, a healthy one, and one that she still so clearly mourns. The pain I glimpsed in her, the anguish still swimming in those pale blues, chips away at something buried deep inside. I rake my fingers through my hair, take a breath and force the image out.
Dio. Since when have I cared so much for the personal baggage of a woman I sleep with?
Sleep with?
Hardly.
It’s been a sensual trip up against a wall, a risky encounter in the pool house and again in the vineyard. All bring the hint of a smile to my lips even now, pushing out the stress of the new arrivals.
My veins instantly fire up, lust heating a path straight to my groin. Its intensity is at odds with the fact that she took me to the edge last night. And all through the game of cards I watched those fingers, those lips, those eyes and remembered what we’d shared. I was so badly distracted that I lost the game. And I never lose.
It was something which Dani commented on as she pulled me aside before bed and advised me to talk to our mother. I almost laughed. How would she feel to know the truth—that it wasn’t Marianna on my mind during the card game. It was her far too appealing maid of honour who also wanted to push the same advice?
Talk. I’ve done enough talking with Faye already, telling a woman I barely know things that I can hardly get a handle on myself. All this by day two of seven. What am I going to share in the next five?
The sound of raised voices invades the sanctity of my bedroom and I snap to attention, my eyes on the closed door as though I can see through it. Not that I need to.
Aunt Netta and Marianna.
At war already.
I pocket my phone and give the mirror a second’s glance. Black linen shirt, chinos, and I’ve forked some product through my hair. My eyes are remarkably clear, no sign in them of the restless night I endured. All perfectly presentable for an afternoon and evening of entertaining...or refereeing.
As I open the door, the voices hit me harder, louder, and I pick up my pace. What is wrong with my family? What did I do in a previous life to deserve this?
I hit the stairs when the noise tapers off and I slow my stride. My eyes lift to the entrance, to the two women who not one minute ago had been making enough noise to shake the rafters. But they are quietly listening to someone else. Someone I can’t see. And then they are talking. Actually talking. With smiles. Real, genuine smiles.
I leave the stairs and make my way across the entrance hall.
‘She’s a miracle worker, whoever she is.’
I turn to see Sienna walking up to me, her grin wide and welcoming.
‘Cousin! It’s good to see you.’ We embrace, kiss cheeks and she adds an extra-tight squeeze before giving me a slap to the chest.
‘It’s been far too long, Rafael. I’m almost surprised to see you.’
‘Don’t you start.’
She laughs. ‘You’re right, I’ll save it for after we’ve sampled the vineyard’s finest.’
She elbows me in the side and nods to the entrance. ‘So, who’s the stunning brunette currently wooing Mamma and Aunt Marianna into silence?’
We start to walk to the entrance and, though I can’t see her, instinct tells me that Faye is involved. Even without my cousin’s apt description.
‘Let’s go take a look. Where are the kids? Lorenzo?’
‘Leo had an incident with an ice-cream so Lorenzo’s getting him changed, and Isabella decided to change before the tour. Seems she’s ten going on twenty.’
I laugh at her eye-roll. ‘Takes after her mother, then.’
‘More like her grandmother and great-aunt. Do you think the two of them realise how alike they are? Though your mother is a tad less...flamboyant. If I’m honest, I’d also be changing, if not for the slanging match.’
‘You and me both.’
‘And it seems we needn’t have bothered.’ As we round the corner, all three ladies are laughing. Laughing!
‘Si, si...and then I said, you know what else looks like a monkey’s bottom?’ Aunt Netta is positively rumbling as she says it and then she spies us approaching. ‘Shh...shh...we have an intruder in our midst! Rafael, regazzo mio, it’s so wonderful to finally see you again.’
She bustles through the middle of the women, heading straight for me, her cheeks aglow, her dress almost an exact copy of my mother’s, only hers is neon pink to Marianna’s pastel shade. ‘Let me look at you.’
Her hands are already launching into the air and I have the awful feeling she’s about to... Too late. She’s already pinching my cheeks and I’m cursing my own stupidity for leaning down.
I hear a stifled giggle and look over the curly mass piled high on her head to see Faye biting her lip. I’m not going red. I’m not. I’m a forty-two-year-old man; I don’t blush. It’s the sun, the heat...it’s Faye, all Faye. My dawning frown quits as Aunt Netta pulls me in for a hug and then thrusts me back so she can stare up at me.
My red-faced smile is tight. ‘Aunt Netta, it’s so good to see you.’
‘You know, I half thought you wouldn’t turn up!’ She wags a finger at me. ‘We had money on it, didn’t we, Sienna? And look, here you are, handsome as ever! Please tell me lovely Faye is the person we have to thank for putting this colour in your cheeks and getting you all the way here. It’s about time, regazzo mio, about time!’
My frown returns. It’s all noise flying at me, a flurry of words, but some are sticking. Does anyone else want to accuse me of being so heartless as to not attend my little sister’s wedding? Is that really the impression I’ve built over the years—the workaholic bachelor with no time for anything or anyone else? As for the assumptions regarding Faye...
I sense movement behind Netta and it’s Faye, her skin calmer, her eyes...sincere. Why does it feel as if she can read me? Every intense, uncomfortable second?
She’s wearing a simple summer dress that ends just above the knee, nothing elaborate or sexy, but still my body warms, my heart beating that little bit faster the closer she gets.
She reaches out for Aunt Netta, her hand soft on my aunt’s shoulder as she laughs softly. ‘No, I’m afraid you have Dani to thank for me being here. I’m the maid of honour.’
‘Of course you are!’ Aunt Netta announces so loudly I want to cover my ears. She turns her attention to Faye and, before she can duck away, she’s getting the cheek-pinch too, though just the one side, not my double helping. ‘Dani always had excellent taste!’
‘And I don’t?’ I tease.
She rounds on me with a harrumph. ‘You, my boy, have yet to bring anyone home, maschio o femmina, for me to establish such credit. At least Dani comes to Tuscany often enough.’
‘Well, he’s here now.’ Faye positively beams.
‘Si, si, you’re right, he is,’ my mother chimes in, coming up alongside Aunt Netta and giving me a look I don’t recognise. ‘Faye, this is Sienna—Rafael and Danielle’s cousin.’
Sienna smiles at Faye. ‘It’s a pleasure, a real pleasure.’
Her eyes flit between the pair of us and I have the distinct impression she’s putting two and two together and coming up with a v
ery accurate four.
‘Let’s not stand here all day,’ I say, keen to shift the focus off us. ‘The tour is due to begin shortly. The rest of the guests should be in the gardens waiting.’
‘Speaking of which, Mamma,’ Sienna says, ‘what have you done with Giovanni?’
‘He’s making himself look pretty. He’ll join us shortly.’
I frown. ‘Giovanni?’
‘Si,’ my mother’s smile turns forced. ‘Antonietta’s plus-one. You know—the plus-one you wouldn’t let me have? You may even recognise him; he and your father were good friends.’
‘The best.’ Aunt Netta nods furiously. ‘God rest his soul. Eduardo was a good man, such a good man, it was a cruel—’
‘Sienna,’ I turn to my cousin. I can’t do this right now. ‘Do you need to go and fetch Lorenzo and the children...? Ah, no need, here they come now.’
Leo and Isabella are running through the entrance hall towards us, a rather flustered Lorenzo on their tail.
Whatever he has to be flustered about, it can’t be anything close to my discomfort, and I’m already walking away from the source of mine, eager for some grounded male companionship in place of the emotional rollercoaster of being around these four women, especially Faye. No matter how much I try, I can’t push her out of my mind or get my body under control whenever she’s near.
Clothed, unclothed, blushing, stoic... It doesn’t matter. Faye just gets to me.
She also gets me. More than my own family have ever been able to.
And I have no idea how to feel about it.
* * *
I’m so glad I opted for a light summer dress. The tour of the vineyards is scorching, and I’m already a hot, sweaty mess having to be in Rafael’s company again. I do my best to keep people between us, to act as a buffer, anything to try to lessen the effect of his presence.
But it’s no use.
My every sense is attuned to him. He moves and my eyes follow. He speaks and little tremors work their way through my body, relishing the sound. He passes by and the slightest touch, the slightest hint of his cologne, has my knees turning weak.
It’s driving me crazy and I’m more than a little relieved when we enter the wine cellar and the temperature drops dramatically.
‘So, you see...’ Diego, the winemaker, turns to us all, bringing us to a quick stop that has someone walking straight into my back. I know who it is before I hear his hurried, ‘Scusi.’
Rafael. He’s pressed up against me, only for a split second, and then his hands are on my hips as he takes a step back. My legs want to move with him, to keep him close, and the effort it’s taking not to do so, especially when he releases my hips, has all of my attention.
Dante, to my right, flicks us both a look, a smile twitching at his lips, and I wonder what he’s thinking. Up front, Diego is still talking, something about the Valentini family who built the castle, and I try to focus but my mind keeps wandering back to the man behind me. The man whose grief seems far too raw after twenty-five years have passed. The man who has the reputation of a workaholic, caring more for his job than his own family. But I know different and I wish everyone else did too.
I can already feel myself falling...but that’s the sex talking, I try to tell myself. The explosive, mind-blowing sex. Nothing more.
I cross my arms in front of me and feel the goose bumps that run over my skin. I shiver. It really is cold down here.
Cold, right? It has nothing to do with realising how emotionally invested you are. That it isn’t just sex at all. That you enjoy his company and can see it becoming more. That you care.
‘Are you cold?’
His voice teases so close to my ear and his body warmth radiates down my back. I risk a glance up at him and the low light of the cellar makes the atmosphere feel far more intimate than any guided tour. His brown eyes soften into mine, his concern creasing at his brow, and my heart gives a tiny squeeze, punctuating my realisation from seconds before.
‘I’m okay,’ I whisper. At least, I think I’m okay. I don’t even know how to feel. I didn’t come to Dani’s wedding to get caught up in some fling with her brother.
He starts to say something more but Diego encourages us to move on and I hurry forward, through the tunnel of stone that’s lined with casks, into another tunnelled room. This one has several upturned barrels laid out like tables, with wine glasses at the ready and wooden stools for the guests to use.
Dani giggles softly and it echoes off the stone wall. I look across to see Tyler whispering something into her neck; their love and passion, so clearly on display.
A smile touches my lips. Perhaps it is possible for me to have both too: love and passion.
Perhaps Rafael could be that man. In spite of all I know of him, perhaps this is different for him too. As different as it is for me when compared to my relationship with Bobby.
‘You look cold, Faye.’ It’s Dante who says it, his frown mirroring Rafael’s. ‘Here, take my jacket.’
‘No, no, it’s fine.’ I wave a hand at him. It feels far too intimate when I know Dani has been determined to set us up together, and I have the man I do want standing right behind me.
‘I insist.’ He’s already shrugging it off and wrapping it around my shoulders, his clean, masculine scent taking over Rafael’s. It’s pleasant, stronger than Raf’s, but it does absolutely nothing for me.
I give him a smile and feel his residual warmth take the edge off the chill. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’
His attention goes back to Diego, who is describing the Chianti we are about to sample, and I sense Rafael’s eyes on me. I want to turn and look at him. I want to tell him with my eyes that he’s the one I want. But when I risk a look his attention is firmly on Diego.
Maybe he doesn’t care either way. Maybe all this is very one-sided. And maybe, just maybe, the lust really is getting in the way and blinding me to what this really is between us. Just great sex.
I shiver in spite of Dante’s jacket and throw my focus into the wine, into the tour, into the history of the castle. And I succeed, to a point. I sip the wine. I laugh over my silly attempt at swilling, tasting and spitting, and Dante is the perfect companion. He laughs with me. He’s easy. Fun.
Rafael isn’t. He’s aloof. He’s more detached than I’ve seen him before and I’m getting a glimpse of what his family are used to. I know because Dante doesn’t bat an eyelid at his behaviour. His quietness, his apathy, his lack of involvement...
Don’t get me wrong. He tastes the wine along with the rest of us. But he’s robotic with it. There’s no curve to his lips, no spark in his eyes, and the habitual grim line has made a return. He watches Diego as he talks about the next wine we are to sample and his eyes flit in my direction—a second’s pause, and my heart flutters as I hope for something, a small smile, anything.
Nothing.
He takes up his wine glass that looks far too big for the small amount of wine we are sampling and swirls it in his hand, his eyes falling to the drink, intense, pensive, and then he raises it to his lips. Those lips that I can scarce believe have laughed, let alone been buried between my legs. I tense as my clit pulses over the vivid recollection and his eyes flick to mine. They lock on and, hell, I know he reads me now.
Colour streaks my cheeks and I go to look away, but then I see that hint of something more in his eyes at last, a twitch to his lips before he draws a little air in over the wine and begins to taste it like an expert. I normally want to giggle at this—I wanted to when I watched Diego instruct us on how to do it properly; I’ve wanted to at every other wine demonstration I’ve attended—but with Rafael, as I watch him move the drink around his mouth, I am captivated. I wish I could be part of that tasting, my tongue twisting with his, enjoying the depth of body, the hit of grapes.
And then his throat bobs, and I’m so wrapped up
in the move it takes me a second to realise he hasn’t spit. Or, to use Diego’s polite term, expectorated. And, as my eyes lift once more to his, I understand why. I’m not the only one who feels as if their throat has closed over with the rush of heat inside.
‘Are you not tasting this one?’ He raises a brow at me and I see the laughter rising in the heat of his gaze, the twitch to his lips.
‘I was enjoying you tasting it.’
It’s out before I can stop it and it’s quickly followed by a sharp cough from Dante as his own wine catches the back of his throat.
Really, Faye? Really?
Thank God no one else seems to have overheard. I focus on taking up the wine. I throw it back and get far too big a sampling; I swirl it with far too much gusto and attempt a spit. Bollocks.
You’d think with the force of my response I’d have nailed getting it in the dump bucket. Instead, I end up with an unattractive river running off my chin. I hurry to grab a napkin, but Rafael beats me to it, and as our eyes lock together once more, his finger and thumb are on my chin, angling my head back as he dabs away the mess I’ve made. Oh, God.
‘Nice?’ he murmurs, his eyes falling to my lips.
Oh, yes. Too nice.
And I don’t mean the wine. I actually can’t speak. My throat is wedged shut again and the whole room is falling away. It’s just me and him and this connection that is determined to exist against all the odds. And the truth is, I have no idea about the wine, because everything tastes and feels good with him this close.
His eyes flick away and he releases me so quickly, I almost slip from my stool, but as I follow his eye line I realise why. Dani’s watching us, the speculation in her gaze enough to tell me exactly what she’s thinking.
I give her a big grin, gesture to the glass in my hand and throw a thumbs up. She’s slow to return my smile, but when she does it seems genuine enough.
Our Little Secret Page 10