by Billy London
Arlo burst into tears and collapsed on Massimo, sobbing in apology. Sofia couldn’t quite believe it. “Hold on, so boy stabs Pads, but boy gets luxury getaway with Pads and your hot uncle?”
Paul and Nick groaned. “He is not hot.”
“Yeah he is,” Gina disagreed instantly. “He is an older version of you, of course he’s hot!”
Massimo patted Arlo gently on the back. “Arlo, listen to me. I will call you every day before I meet you. But you will find your peace in Italy, I promise.”
“What about university and stuff?”
He nodded to Nick, “Anthony can arrange that, correct?”
His eldest paused, that searching gaze of his unwavering. “Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
Massimo glanced to Belinda who gave an acquiescing nod. “It is.”
“Right, everyone out.” Nick announced, making a cattle prodding motion to his brother, wife and sister in law. He caught Arlo by the scruff of his neck. “Zio Durante is going to make you work. You’ll understand things better than the Dali Lama when you come back.”
He left Belinda in the room with Massimo, Arlo lifting a still blood covered hand in goodbye. Massimo beckoned to Belinda who cuddled up to him on the bed. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“I apologise.”
“You go, you take me with you. Everywhere. You’re not allowed to leave me. Or you will regret the day you met me, I promise you.”
“Bella, if you make me laugh, it will hurt.” Ah, now this was much better than any morphine. His sweet Belinda’s warmth and scent comforting him. “You approve of my decision for Arlo?”
She gave a soft sigh. “You’re taking out the sting of hatred from that silly boy, how could I possibly disagree with you? Now that I sort of don’t want to kill him, I know you can help. We can help. Whatever his brother says.”
“His brother will do what he is told,” Massimo said bluntly.
“And Durante won’t mind?”
“Durante will relish the opportunity to tell me I am wrong. He is very much of the mind-set that hard work gives perspective. Arlo will find the farm most therapeutic. I am sure you will have much to say to him.”
“Hmm,” Belinda gave a characteristic sound of disapproval.
“Bella, if you do not forgive him, the children will not either.”
“He tried to kill you.”
“He is confused and very frightened. I could not think of a better person to guide him than you.”
She sent him a look. “Why are you bullying me? I’ve had enough shocks for one day.”
“Why, what else has shocked you?”
“Nicholas called me mum.”
“He has been calling you ‘mum’ in your own language for some time now. Why does ‘mum’ make any difference?”
“Because he did it when he was angry. He wasn’t thinking about it and...” she gave a shrug, blinking rapidly. “I love them all very much.”
“You can extend the same generosity to Arlo. There is plenty of room here,” he stroked his fingers over her heart.
“Stop touching me up!” she warned.
He laughed, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in his side as he wrapped both arms around Belinda. She heard his slight wince and pushed him back. “What’s the matter with you? You can touch me whenever you want, just wait until you are better.”
“I am better now. Wide awake and in need of love.”
She started to laugh, burying her face in his neck. He adjusted his weight on the bed and closed his eyes. Now he could do this much more comfortably, with his wife beside him. Where she always should be.
Chapter Twenty
“No, the grill isn’t hot enough! What are you doing? Don’t put that in there! Ewuradzi Yankopong!”
Massimo and Durante’s heads came up at the shrill command. They’d been at the farm for just about three weeks and Belinda was trying to teach Arlo to cook. Massimo hadn’t thought it the best of ideas when Belinda had suggested it and his fiancée was proving him right.
“Your woman’s got quite a command of volume,” Durante said dryly. “Arlo isn’t going to be able to pick up a spoon without having flashbacks.”
“You underestimate him,” Massimo replied, closing his eyes again, the bottle of beer lightly swinging between his fingertips. He should visit Durante more often, the place was so peaceful.
“That’s not flour that’s semolina!”
Sort of peaceful, he winced, wrenching one eyelid open. It had been working rather nicely. Arlo and Belinda had sat down every evening together to discuss the path of forgiveness. She talked to the boy of Moses, Job, Daniel and fittingly enough of John the Baptist. They talked Peter, the disciple who had denied his faith to save himself, but upon whom the Catholic Church had been built. “We should go to Rome!” Arlo had insisted.
“It’s more Sodom and Gomorrah now,” Durante had interjected. “Probably not the best place to continue your salvation.”
“Nonsense,” Belinda declared, shooting her brother-in-law a disapproving glare before continuing her teachings. Arlo, bless him, had dutifully taken notes and asked questions where he was allowed. In the day, he, Durante and Massimo would work in the olive groves and in the vineyards with the rest of Durante’s employees for Arlo to understand the value of honest work. That there was more to the world than what they ‘did.’ Massimo did remind his brother that part of the reason the business flourished, was due to Massimo’s efficiency with numbers.
“Don’t listen to him Arlo,” Durante had said, “he’s still repenting his many sins.”
“You could be one more,” Massimo offered delicately. “As you were.”
While they worked, Massimo discussed the importance of manners and refinement in a man. When Arlo brought up the contradiction of having manners while putting a knife between another man’s ribs, Massimo replied, “You can still do that with courtesy.” Durante didn’t stopped laughing until they returned to the farm house.
He felt confident enough to leave Arlo with his brother and explore Tuscany with his almost wife. It was an oasis of peace. Perfect weather, perfect food with the perfect woman. Volume control excluded. It was the holy matrimony part that was still stuck at almost. So Massimo made a decision and shortly it would come to fruition. There would always be something that would eventually get in the way and distract them. He had barely convinced Belinda to take this holiday, particularly as she was unconvinced that Massimo was fully recovered, let alone that she had abandoned her job. Massimo had provided the clinic with a more than adequate substitute as part of the surprise honeymoon.
This wedding would be everything to them both. A celebration of their new start. Everything that had happened until this point had given him Belinda and his family. If several hundred laws and even more bones had been broken in the course of that path, then it was a simple sacrifice. One he really should confess to one of these days...
He heard Arlo laughing in triumph and Belinda’s retort, “That’s one fish. What about the other three?”
“Zia, I’m getting there. I’ve done one!”
“And it’s done beautifully.”
Massimo opened his eyes to see Belinda stroking an affectionate hand over Arlo’s back. He could see the surprise in the boy’s face. It made him grin. The one person unconvinced of Arlo’s change of ways was ultimately Belinda. It couldn’t be helped. After all, had Belinda been the one who ended up in a hospital bed, Massimo would not have been as accommodating. She caught his eye and made a face at him. Maybe he’d run his suggestion past her later that night.
Warm juices spilled onto his stomach as Belinda’s pussy convulsed over his cock. She was such a beautiful sight, her hands braced on his chest, bushing her breasts into a deep, glorious cleavage. Her thighs on either side of his waist were as hot as her pussy. He arched his hips firmly against her, holding her own to meet him, need overruling everything else.
He quickly spun them around so she lay be
neath him. With short, sharp thrusts, he delved more deeply into her. She clung to him, with her hands, her legs and her pussy. He covered her mouth with his own, to taste her breathless sighs. His cock began to jerk inside her, the creamy wet grip tightening even more. A long sustained growl emerged unhindered from his throat, just as Belinda’s back flexed beneath him, her pussy clamping down on him so tightly, it wrenched the cum from his balls. Instinct made him press more deeply to fill her. She held onto him as his heart thumped against her breast.
“Better?” he breathed heavily against her neck.
“Mm hmm,” she agreed, “much better.” He made to move his weight from her but she held him still. “Stay where you are.”
“Of course.” He cuddled closer and tried to distribute his bulk.
“Stop squirming,” she commanded. “You’re not well still.”
She wasn’t entirely convinced that was altogether true or she wouldn’t have allowed him to even undress her. “All right.”
Before he could attempt to move again, she gave a rather distinct snore. “Bella?” he asked softly. She didn’t answer much to his amusement. He slowly slid from her and curled into her side, an arm about her waist.
“Bella, what do you think? Should we marry after we leave Tuscany or when we have seen the Great Wall of China?”
He heard a murmur, which turned into a mutter then she turned away from him altogether. Touching her shoulder with his lips, he cuddled even closer to her. Marrying her tomorrow should be fine. Whether she liked surprises or not, it would work. He was absolutely sure.
Epilogue
Everything was to Massimo’s exact specifications. The farm house was spotless as always, any suggestion otherwise would really make Durante cross. As overbearing as his brother was, he was rather pleasantly surprised with Belinda. He hadn’t been able to spend longer than five minutes in Mary Alice’s company. Their parents had tried to tell Massimo that she was an opportunist, but hey, when it came to the female form, Da Canaveze men weren’t known for their intelligence.
Belinda wouldn’t know artifice if it pretended to be her friend. Her emotions ran so clearly on her face, he could see her love for his brother a mile away. Massimo had prompted the surprise wedding party two days after arriving at the farm.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
So Durante had called his nephews and was duly informed that Gina would bring the cake, Paul purchased the rings, Sofia sorted Massimo’s suit and Belinda’s dress and Nick was to be both barman and photographer for the day. Durante told Nick to make sure his mina’s favourite whiskey was in stock given she wasn’t keen on surprises.
“She won’t say no in front of all of us, so Dad’s got her right,” Nick retorted. “See you soon.”
“Are you sure about this?” Durante asked, the day he expected the Da Canaveze invasion. “I think she knows.”
“Quiet, small, abroad. It is what she asked for. I am simply obliging her.”
“Your children are rather mentally unstable. Particularly the girls. Must I put up with them all?”
“Of course. You will be adequately compensated. I requested Emmanuella cater the rest of the wedding.”
Durante felt a sliver of fear race along his spine. “You did what?”
“Bella enjoys her food. Icing on the cake.”
Belinda came storming to them. “Whose bus is that?”
They looked into the distance and saw what looked like a tour bus rumbling to the farm house. Durante patted his pockets for his mobile and saw missed calls from his nephews. “Can’t accuse them of being early then,” he told himself wryly as the four came flying out of the bus. Belinda screamed with joy and was smothered in hugs by Nick, Gina, Paul and Sofia.
She turned around and glared at Durante. God, she better not carry on doing that, she was beginning to scare him. “You don’t look surprised.”
Durante deftly stepped out of Belinda’s line of vision. Not. His. Battle. He received his hugs and kisses from his nephews and nieces just as Arlo saw the commotion.
“I asked them to come,” Massimo answered his bride smoothly. “For our wedding.”
“Massimo Da Canavaze, what the hell did I tell you about surprises?”
“Arlo!” Durante said smoothly, hastening his nephews and nieces away from the battleground. “Have I shown you the art of escaping a domestic?”
“I think you should have shown Zio first,” Arlo murmured with a worried glance to where Massimo was calmly accepting a serious ear chewing.
“He’s fine,” Gina said breezily, “He’s got some mystical power over my aunt.”
“But I—” Arlo began to turn back only for Nick to clap a hand over the boy’s eyes. Durante briefly witnessed Massimo catching his woman by the arms and pulling her into a persuasive kiss.
“Trust me,” Nick assured him, “for the sake of future therapy, you do not want to look back.”
Durante shrugged. “Nothing he hasn’t been witness to for the past three weeks. You know sound carries at night.” They all came to a screeching halt. Durante lifted his brows. “I hope you all brought ear plugs.”
Sofia drawled. “I’ve already had my retinas burned out by them, why not my hearing?”
“What does that sound like to me?” Gina murmured.
Nick kept his hands over Arlo’s eyes. “Justice.”
Durante held up his hands. “All right, ground rules. We don’t talk about what’s going on behind us. They will do that. They are eighteen year olds in half centenarians’ bodies. You keep my farm house tidy. You do not undo the good work we have all done with Arlo. Finally, if you touch my wine, you tell me first.”
Paul snorted, “Good luck with that one. Might I reintroduce you to my wife, Sofia?” She gave him a self-satisfied curtsey.
Durante gritted his teeth. “Those are the rules. Now, let’s get this wedding business done with so I can go back to peace and quiet around here.”
“You know what Zio?” Gina said with a worrying lilt in her voice. “I think you need someone special in your life. Like my aunt has Pads. We could help you.”
Durante looked at all of them. “That,” he waved in the direction of Massimo and Belinda, “is your doing?”
He got four suspiciously, innocent grins that made him feel rather ill. “Just think what we could do for you.” Nick’s grin widened. “No cars this time,” he added out of the corner of his mouth.
Oh God help him.
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)
The Claim (Rocky and Anna)
Best Laid Plans (Luca and Francesca)
Copyright and Trademark Acknowledgments
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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 w
ould 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!