“You know, it’s funny,” Enda said quietly, “Even now, I can’t think of him as my father. I know the DNA tests said he was—sorry, is, but …it’s Olivier I stayed for. If it had just been Mac and Jackson, then maybe I would have not been so involved with the family.” He smiled sadly at her. “But then I wouldn’t have met you, amore mia.”
Ama stroked his cheek. “So we have to talk about the fact that Olivier knows about us.”
“It would seem.”
They sat in silence, contemplating what that meant. Enda gave up. “I just can’t figure it out. We were so careful.”
Ama was chewing her lip. “Do you think Jackson knows?”
He shook his head. “No. Because if he did …”
He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Ama knew he meant that if Jackson knew, they’d both probably be dead right now. Ama’s mind went back to what Enda had told her about Penelope. Ama had no problem imagining Jackson stabbing her to death for sleeping with Enda. She tamped down the terror. Better her than Enda …or Selima, but she didn’t say that out loud.
Just after seven a.m., she finally fell asleep, wrapped in Enda’s arms as they lay on the couch together.
At eight a.m. Olivier called them to tell them Macaulay was dead.
The funeral was attended by hundreds of people. Inca and Raffaelo came too, sad-eyed, hugging Enda and Olivier. Ama dutifully took Jackson’s arm as they followed the casket into the church and sat with him as the service began. Jackson seemed out of it, and Ama wondered to Enda if he had taken something to get through it all.
Macaulay’s death had hit him hard. Gone was the hubris and posturing; Jackson was grieving. Even Enda had felt sorry for the –man—as much as he could. He couldn’t shake the anger he felt towards Jackson over his treatment of Ama—the threats to her family if she didn’t comply with him. He studied them as a couple now; Jackson’s perfectly coiffed hair and cleanly shaven face, next to Ama’s ethereal, sad beauty. No. They made no sense as a couple. Why was Jackson so entirely set on pretending they were?
Enda was plagued with nightmares about Ama being murdered by one of Jackson’s goons. He pictured her in her car, gutted, blood everywhere…Jesus, man, stop it. He bent his head, closing his eyes to erase the images. He felt Raff’s hand on his shoulder and smiled at his friend gratefully.
At the wake, Ama stayed with Jackson for a time, then excused herself. She felt exhausted, drawn, and numb. She had liked Macaulay a lot, even though he was a weak man, and now that he’d gone…god, she would be alone in this house with Jackson. God knows what he would do to her when no one was there to stop him. She went to her room to change out of the formal black suit she had worn to the church and into a simple, but comfortable, black dress. She heard a soft knock on the door.
“Come in.”
Inca poked her head around the door and Ama sighed with relief. “Come in, please. I need some girl time.”
Inca hugged her. “It’s awful. I’m so sorry.” She perched on the end of Ama’s bed and studied her. “How are you? Really?”
Scared. That was the first thing that flew into her mind, but she bit it back. “Okay. Sad. He was a nice old coot.”
Inca smiled. “He was. And sometimes, he had good DNA.”
Ama chuckled. “Yes, sometimes.”
Inca lowered her voice. “Ama, you can tell me anything. It’s pretty obvious, to Raff and me at least, that you and Enda are together. I don’t blame you, or judge you, except to say …yay. Selfishly, I want my friend Enda to be happy, and it’s clear to me that you are the person for him.”
Ama wanted to cry. It was such a relief to be able to be honest with someone about her feelings for Enda. “It’s true. It’s just complicated.” She told Inca about the threats Jackson had made.
Inca nodded sagely. “I get it. Look, Ama, I don’t know how much Enda has told you about my past, but I had some pretty serious …enemies, shall we say. There was a lot of violence and I nearly didn’t make it. So, I’m saying …I’ve dealt with the kind of things I think Jackson is threatening.”
“And you made it out.”
Inca nodded, her lovely face serious. “I did. And I want to help –you—we both want to help you and Enda. I don’t know how, yet, but we will. Jackson has a lot of power, and now with even a third share of his father’s fortune, he’ll think he’s untouchable.”
Ama sighed. “You’re right. Did you know about Penelope?”
Inca nodded. “Yes. Look, Ama, I’ve had some experience with obsession. It’s unpredictable. I think our first step would be to secure both your and your family’s safety.”
“I agree. My family comes first, though. If Jackson’s going to take anything out on anybody, I’d rather it was me.”
Inca gave her a strange smile. “You and I are more alike than you think. I would rather die than let anything happen to Raff.”
Ama smiled. “He worships you, and I expect he’d say the same.”
Inca laughed. “He would. Hopefully, that part of our lives is over and done with.”
Ama squeezed her hand. “And now you’re on a mission to save mine.”
“You betcha.”
After her talk with Inca, Ama felt lighter and more positive. She rejoined the wake. People were starting to leave, and she saw Enda and Olivier talking to some of the stragglers. She moved towards them, but a hand shot out of a group of people, and Jackson hauled her to his side. The smell of alcohol coming off of him was overpowering.
“Isn’t she beautiful, my wife?” He slurred and kissed her on the cheek. Ama tried to not to cringe. Macaulay’s friends looked uncomfortable, but Jackson hooked his arm around Ama’s neck. “I’m a very lucky man, wouldn’t you say?”
Ama tried to deflect attention by smiling politely at the elderly couple. “How are you both? You look well.”
Jackson snorted. “Come on, what do you say? Arthur? Magda? Isn’t Ama the most beautiful woman you ever saw? Her sister’s pretty too, if you know what I mean.”
God. Ama pushed him away from her. “That’s enough, Jackson.” She turned, red-faced, to the couple. “I’m so sorry. He’s taken Mac’s death really hard.”
The elderly couple smiled sympathetically at her and made their escape. Soon only the family, Inca, Raff, and one other couple were left. Jackson lurched at Ama. “Don’t ever contradict me again in public, bitch. That’s not your job.”
“That’s enough, Jackson.” Enda strode over and put himself between Jackson and Ama. “Go to bed and sleep it off.”
Jackson sneered. “Oh, look, it’s the bastard. Are you still here? Daddy dearest has gone now, so you can just go fuck yourself, you Italian asshole.”
Enda kept his temper. “Go to bed, Jackson.”
Jackson looked at Ama again and grinned nastily. “Okay. If Ama comes with me. She can suck my cock while I decide whether or not to fuck her sister too.”
Ama gasped in horror, and Enda, incensed, launched himself at Jackson, landing punch after punch. Jackson staggered back against the window, smashing it, but Enda yanked him to the floor.
It took both Raffaelo and Olivier to haul Enda off the bloodied Jackson. A shocked Inca had locked her arms around a trembling and sobbing Ama and was trying to calm her down.
Jackson scrambled to his feet, wiping his mouth, and then stopped, looking between Enda and Ama. “Jesus Christ …you’re fucking her. You’re fucking my wife. Bastard!”
He threw himself at Enda, but Olivier stepped between them and took the full force of Jackson’s rage. They both staggered back, and it took Raffaelo to steady the pair. Olivier got his arms around his younger brother. “Stop. Stop.”
“You filthy Italian cocksucker,” Jackson screamed at Enda, who glowered at him, “I’ll fucking kill you, I’ll kill both of you.” He struggled against his brother’s hold, turning his white-hot anger on Ama. “Bitch whore. I knew the precious princess act was fake. How long have you been opening your legs for him?”
Sudde
nly, Ama lost her temper. She extricated herself from Inca’s arms and went to Jackson. “Do you want to know how long, Jackson? Do you really want to know? Our wedding night, Jackson. And do you know what else? I don’t regret one moment of it because I’m in love with Enda. That’s right, I love him. He’s my world now, and you’re just a bug on a windshield to me. Do you really want to me to tell them all what you do to me? How you raped me, beat me, and threatened to have my sister raped too? My father’s business ruined? Fuck you, Jackson Gallo, you’re not worth one billionth of Enda, or Olivier, or anyone.”
There were tears pouring down her face now. “I’m leaving you and seeking an annulment. Screw you. Screw my father for doing this to Selima and me.”
Jackson smiled nastily. “I’ll never agree to a divorce, Amalia. Never. You belong to me.”
Ama slapped his face, hard. “I don’t belong to anyone, asshole. Remember that. I choose to be with Enda because I love him.”
“I will ruin both of you. Both of you! Get out of my house, all of you. You,” Jackson snapped at Raffaelo now. “Take your whore and get out.”
Inca gave him the finger and Raffaelo smirked. “Pathetic child. Ama, how long will it take you to pack your stuff?”
“Ten minutes, tops.”
Raffaelo nodded at Enda, who was still amped up, ready to kill Jackson if needed. “Go with her, Enda. We’ll make sure the toddler here is occupied.”
Olivier nodded at Enda, his arms still locked around Jackson, who was just grinning openly now. As Ama walked past him, he spat at her, his saliva spattering across her face. Ama merely kept walking, wiping her face, and tugging Enda with her.
Jackson stopped struggling and instead decided to stare at Inca, who regarded him coolly. His eyes ran up and down her body. Inca glanced at Raffaelo and grinned at him. He rolled his eyes.
“Is she a good fuck, Raffaelo? She looks like she’s a good fuck …nice tight little cu …”
Inca calmly stepped up to Jackson and smashed her knee into his balls. “Quiet, boy,” she said in a cold voice. “You’re on very, very thin ice.”
“Seconded,” Raffaelo said and took Inca’s hand. Olivier tried to hide a grin.
Jackson groaned, bent double with pain. “Fuckers. You have no idea what I could do to you all. None of you will get away with this.”
Olivier gave an exasperated sigh. “Jackson, haven’t you learned yet? You have no power here. None. Dad’s gone. Ama’s gone. Stop with the empty threats. Grow up.”
Ama and Enda came back in, Enda pulling her suitcase. Jackson smiled at Ama. “Aren’t you going to say goodbye, baby?”
Ama didn’t even look at him. “Thank you, Olly. Raff. Thank you, Inca.”
And, hand-in-hand with Enda, she walked out the Gallo house forever.
Outside, he stopped her and took her in his arms. “You love me?”
“I know it’s crazy fast, but, yes, Enda Gallo, I love you.”
Enda grinned and kissed her. “Ti amo, Amalia Rai. Ti amo.”
Three months later …
Sorrento, Italy …
Enda took her nipple into his mouth and Ama sighed, running her hands over his head and shoulders as he sucked and teased the tiny bud. When they were so sensitive she could scream, he moved up to kiss her and slid his huge engorged cock into her, Ama’s legs wrapping themselves around his waist.
They had been living in Italy together for three months now, and it had been the happiest time in Ama’s life. The villa that Raffaelo had found for them was airy and spacious, and rustic enough that Ama felt that she was really in a different world. It had wooden shutters at the windows and delicate, white voile drapes that billowed out into the rooms, giving them a dream-like quality.
When they had left San Francisco, Ama had called the dean of the conservatory, explained the situation, and asked for a sabbatical. Given the circumstances, the dean had agreed, but still, Ama felt bad about leaving them in the lurch. Enda had arranged for Selima to have a private security team, and although her sister chafed against the invasion of privacy, she had been horrified to find out what Ama had been through. Ama had tried, without success, to have her move to Italy with them, but Selima, finally free to do what she liked, had refused.
“I’m sorry, Ama, but I have a life here now. I’ll take the bodyguard, but otherwise, it’s business as usual. Go to Italy with your gorgeous man and be happy.”
And Ama was happy. Her father hadn’t been. He screamed at her about disloyalty and dishonor until she’d had enough.
“Dad …you pimped both of your daughters out to men who beat and raped them. Who has the dishonor?”
Her uncle, Omar, had stepped in and defended her. “Gajendra, this has gone far enough. You do not have the right.”
Gajendra, his pride hurt and his business shaky, swore never to talk to his daughters again. Hurt but defiant, Amalia told him it was his loss.
“I guess we’re both orphans now, baby,” she told Enda, trying to put a brave face on it, but when she burst into tears, he held her tightly.
“You are my family, Amalia Rai. You, Olly, Selima, Raff, and Inca. I think myself a very lucky man.”
Ama gazed up at him now as they made love on this sultry Italian night, moving together, Enda’s cock harder and deeper into her with every thrust. She felt drunk with love all the time now, and so sensual in her own femininity that she had become more adventurous in the bedroom. Enda had her hands pinned above her head, and she moaned as his pace quickened, the friction of his cock in her cunt sending shivers through her.
“I love you so much, Enda,” she whispered, then gave a cry as her orgasm ripped through her. Her back arched, her belly pressing against his as she felt his cock shooting thick, creamy cum deep inside her. Enda, panting for air, kissed her, not wanting to disconnect. She squeezed her thighs around his waist. “Stay inside,” she urged, and he grinned.
“If only I could forever.”
Ama giggled. “Man, that would make grocery shopping awkward.”
“And business meetings.”
“And recitals. Here, tonight, a recital by pianist Amalia Rai, who, you will notice, will perform while being comprehensively fucked by an incredibly handsome man. Front row tickets extra.”
Enda laughed out loud. “Those tickets would sell out for all the wrong reasons.” He nuzzled her neck with his lips. “Although, the thought of people watching you cum and seeing that beautiful rose flush in your cheeks …that’s kind of hot.”
“Kinky.”
“Guilty. What about you? Have you any kinks I should know about?” He finally pulled out of her and lay on his side, his hand stroking her belly. Ama smiled up at him.
“You know, it’s hard to tell, because when I’m with you, there isn’t anything I wouldn’t try. But I don’t think I have enough experience to start thinking that way yet. If you want to suggest some things, I’m willing to consider them.”
“Hmm.” Enda stroked her cheek with his finger. “Not sure. I’m sure we can come up with something together—no pun intended.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to him. Ama snuggled into his arms and breathed in the night air wafting in through the open windows.
“This place is heaven.”
Enda smiled. “I’m glad you like it. Listen, I was thinking …not wanting to stand in your way or anything, but have you thought any more about going back to San Francisco?”
Ama felt a wave of nausea. Being so close to Jackson again …but then, there was her work to consider. “I keep going over it in my mind. I don’t want to be driven out of the job I adore because of Jackson and his threats, and I owe the conservatory at least a proper goodbye if I leave. My contract stipulates three months’ notice.”
“Sounds like you’ve been considering leaving.”
Ama nodded, her eyes serious as she looked up at him. “Truthfully, Enda, I have. I would be happy never to go back to the States. This place feels like home to me. You feel like home. I mean
…” She went red and sat up, suddenly shy. “I’m not expecting you to …I don’t want to make you feel like you’re stuck with me, is all.”
Enda chuckled. “Piccolo, I’m in this for the long haul. For good. You have no need to worry about that.” He ran his hand down her back. “As soon as the divorce is finalized, I would like to …well, I don’t want to make any demands of you, but I would be honored if you would think about …a commitment of some kind. Engagement, marriage, whatever we both want. Even just a commitment ring, if you feel like you don’t want to be legally tied to someone else. Whatever works for us. I love you, Amalia, and this is it for me. You are my person.”
Ama tried not to let the tears in her eyes fall. “You always know how to make me feel like the most loved person in the world. Thank you, baby.” She pressed her lips to hers, then pushed him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him. Enda cupped her breasts in his hands, then traced the indented line down her stomach to her navel. She shivered with pleasure as he circled it with his fingertip, her own hands reaching for his still half-erect cock and stroking it until he groaned and she lowered herself onto it, sighing as it filled her cunt.
“God, Enda, I will never get tired of this …never …”
The next day, Amalia met Inca for lunch in the town. They found a little trattoria and ordered a light seafood linguini and salad for lunch. Since being in Italy, she and Inca had grown incredibly close, and now Ama couldn’t remember when they hadn’t been friends. Inca was sweet, funny, very intelligent, and was so full of empathy for others that Ama marveled at her capacity for love.
They also had the same sense of humor—bordering on raunchy—and they often talked about their men in their lives. Inca was obviously still head-over-heels for Raffaelo even after all this time.
“He was a tough cookie to fathom when I met him,” she admitted now as they ate, “But just his presence used to send my body reeling with desire. Honestly, he’s my walking, talking aphrodisiac.”
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