by Jane Porter
“Then that’s who you will be. So go shower and dress and try to relax, because I should warn you, my sisters are a lot like my mother—strong, talkative, rather intense—but hopefully a little more friendly.”
Jillian’s head spun as she climbed the stairs to their master suite on the third floor. She’d done it, she thought, reaching the bedroom and closing the door.
She’d told him. She’d told him the truth and nothing horrible had happened.
The planets hadn’t collided.
No stars had fallen from the sky.
No scary men had jumped out of bushes and snatched her away.
Maybe all the bad things were behind her. Maybe, she thought, stripping off her dress and stepping beneath the showerhead with the faucets turned on full force, just maybe, everything would be okay.
Relief swept through her as the water beat down, first icy, then scalding until she finally adjusted the water to the perfect temperature.
Mind spinning, she soaped up, shampooed her hair and rinsed off all while thinking that her fears seemed so silly now. Why hadn’t she trusted Vitt sooner?
Why had she thought he’d be like her father?
How tragic that she hadn’t trusted him before. It would have saved them all so much heartache as well as lost time together.
Once dry, Jill styled her hair, then applied makeup, before slipping into the simple black cocktail dress hanging in the closet.
She felt like a different woman as she tugged up the dress’s zipper. It was such a relief to have shared the truth with someone. Such a relief to know she wasn’t alone. Keeping the secret had been a crushing burden and suddenly she felt lighter. Freer. Happier.
Twisting her hair into a silky chignon she stared at her reflection in the master bathroom’s enormous mirror, her brown eyes smiling shyly, her mouth curving uncertainly.
He knew the truth about her, knew she was Frank Giordano’s daughter, and he hadn’t pulled away in disgust.
But having him just accept the truth wasn’t enough. She wanted his love. She wanted his heart.
Yet how could he love her if he didn’t know her? She needed him to know her, the real her, the woman who was falling in love with him.
Looking hard at her pale reflection, Jillian took a deep breath and removed one contact lens, and then the other, taking the brown colored lenses out to reveal her natural eye color—a vivid, and rather startling, turquoise green.
Moving to the sink, she washed the brown contact lenses down the drain and then washed her hands, all the while looking at her heart-shaped face with the high cheekbones, aristocratic nose and strong chin.
This is you, she told her reflection, this is you without artifice and make-believe. This is the you Vitt needs to see.
She didn’t know how Vitt would react when he saw her eyes had changed color again but at least tonight when he saw her face, he would see her real face. He’d finally see her.
Vittorio rapped on the bathroom door. “My family is gathered downstairs and waiting.”
“I’m ready,” she said, opening the door and stepping out, wondering how long it’d take him to notice what she’d done.
He tipped his head, studied her. He’d noticed the change immediately. “You look…different.”
“Is it my hair? I can take it down.”
“It’s not your hair.”
“Maybe it’s the dress. It’s a little big.”
“Everything in your wardrobe is big.”
“I never bought new clothes after I had Joe. But I don’t mind. And no one’s really going to be looking at me tonight, right?”
He smiled with his eyes. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better.” And then he drew a velvet pouch from his pocket. “But maybe this will add a little sparkle and shine to your black frock.”
Shyly she bent her head forward so that he could fasten the elaborate gold clasp at the back of her neck. The choker was snug, the strands heavy with precious stones.
“Turn around,” he said.
She did, and for a moment he said nothing and then he tipped her chin up with one finger. “Green eyes tonight.”
She nodded.
“How did you know you’d be getting emeralds?” he asked, sounding amused.
“I didn’t.”
“You just decided to swap out your colored lenses tonight?”
She fingered the precious jewels at her throat. “I decided I was tired of hiding, so I threw away the contacts.”
“Your real eye color is green?”
She nodded.
“And what is your real hair color? Red?” he guessed.
“How did you know?”
He’d been smiling but his smile died. “It’s the one color you’ve never been.” Vitt reached out to her smooth chignon and touched the twisted strands at her nape. “My wife has red hair and green eyes. How odd to think I’ve never really known her.”
“But you have. This—” and she gestured to her face and body “—this is the real me. The only me. The one you met in Istanbul. The one you took to the villa. The one who had your baby.”
“Good. Because you are the one I wanted in Istanbul, and you are the one I loved in Bellagio, and you are the one I want to help raise our son.” Then he took her hand in his, kissed her hand, before tucking it in the crook of his arm.
Together they descended the staircase and entered the grand dining room with the pale blue-and-cream frescoes on the walls. Jillian stiffened in the doorway when everyone turned to look at them.
“I know it’s a lot of people,” Vitt murmured reassuringly, “but just be yourself and everyone will love you.”
She nodded, even as she pressed her hand tighter into the crook of his arm.
They hadn’t made much progress into the room before two attractive women moved toward them.
“My sisters,” Vitt said beneath his breath. “They take after my mother. Just do your best.”
“That’s not comforting at all,” she answered in a whisper.
Vittorio made the introductions. “Bianca and Carlina, I’d like you to meet Jill, my wife. Jill, this is Carlina, the youngest of my sisters, and Bianca, the oldest. Guiliana isn’t here. She lives in Europe with her family.”
The four of them made small talk for a few minutes before Bianca and Carlina came up with an excuse to get Jillian alone. Knowing his sisters wouldn’t be satisfied until they’d had their time with her, he allowed them to drag her off toward a private corner. He in the meantime went to greet his paternal grandmother who was already sitting in her chair at the table.
He stooped to give her a kiss. She was small and rather frail but her mind remained sharp. “Nonna, how are you?” he asked, sitting down in a chair close to hers and taking her hands in his.
“The sun was shining today and I am alive. What could be better?”
Vitt grinned. “Not much, Nonnie.”
His grandmother nodded at Jillian, who was still in the corner with his sisters. “How did this happen?”
“The baby?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I know how babies are made. I had nine of them. But how is it we are only meeting your family now?”
He shrugged. “There were problems. We’re working them out.”
“Good. Children need their mother and father together in one house.”
“I agree.”
She tipped her head, considering Jillian. “She’s Italian, isn’t she? Maybe even Sicilian. Look at her nose, the cheekbones, you can see it in her face.”
His grandmother was smart. He smiled at her and patted her hand. “Would you like to meet her?”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
Laughing softly, he rose to get Jill, but before he could pry Jill away from his sisters, his mother entered the dining room then, pushing his father’s wheelchair.
Vitt hadn’t seen his father since arriving home and approached his father right away, bending over the wheelchair to kiss his father on the
cheek. “Father, you look well. What have you been doing? Chasing Madre around the bedroom?”
His father’s dark eyes shone, and his mouth pulled into a smile. “Impudent dog,” his father said, his voice distorted by the ventilator helping him breathe.
Vittorio had always admired his father, but one of the things he enjoyed most about his father was his sense of humor. “Everyone tells me I take after you.”
Salvatore rolled his eyes before looking toward the corner. “Is that your wife talking to your sisters?”
“Yes.”
“Go get her. I’m anxious to meet her.”
Jillian startled when Vitt suddenly touched her low on her back. “My father wants to meet you,” he said quietly as he drew her away from the others. “He speaks with difficulty, and it’s not always easy to understand him, so please be patient,” he said, leading her across the room to where his father sat.
Jillian’s breath caught in her throat as she spotted the family resemblance between Vitt and his father. Salvatore d’Severano was tall like Vitt, and very broad-shouldered, and while probably once powerfully built, he was now thin, his body stooped, the muscles connecting his large frame slack from years of atrophy.
But while his body appeared frail, his dark eyes burned with a fierce intelligence and his intense gaze seemed to see everything as she approached his wheelchair.
“Did he have a stroke?” she asked, suddenly terribly nervous.
“No. He was shot. It left him paralyzed.”
“He’s a quadriplegic?”
“Yes.”
And then they’d arrived at Salvatore’s side and Vittorio again made the introductions. “Father, this is my wife, Jill. Jill, this is my father, Salvatore d’Severano.”
“Hello, Mr. d’Severano,” she said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“There’s no mister here,” he answered gruffly. “You are my daughter now. Welcome to the family.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was pitched low. “That means a great deal to me.”
He looked at her with dark searching eyes. “If you are happy, why do you cry?”
“I’m not crying,” she denied, blinking hard to keep her eyes dry.
“Has my son made you so very unhappy?”
“No.”
“I may be paralyzed, but I’m no fool.”
“I promise you, it’s not Vitt. He’s been very good considering…considering…”
“Considering all the drama?” Salvatore finished for her, eyes watering with the effort it cost him to speak.
She nodded.
His brow furrowed. “You look so very familiar. I can’t help but think I know you.”
She shook her head. “I would have remembered you.”
“Perhaps I know your family. You are Sicilian, aren’t you?”
“No. American.”
“Yes, but your family is Italian, from Sicily, I am sure of it.”
Again Jillian shook her head but then her composure cracked and murmuring excuses, she slipped from the room, rushing past everyone to push through the hall door to the outside terrace. It was a quiet night, the terrace lit by just the moon. Jillian paced back and forth before leaning against the stone balustrade to draw great gasps of air into her lungs.
Of course her family was Italian, and she still took pride in her Italian heritage. But her father…
She was so ashamed of her father. And so disgusted, too.
He’d sacrificed Katie to save his own skin. How could he do that to her? How could he do that to all of them?
What kind of monster was he?
“What did my father say?” Vittorio asked quietly from behind her, his footsteps so silent she hadn’t even heard him approach.
She shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
She turned to face him. “He was so kind to me, but he wouldn’t be if he knew who my father was.”
“He probably wouldn’t like who your father was, but he wouldn’t hold it against you, cara. My father is a bigger man than that.”
“How did he get hurt?”
Vittorio leaned against the balustrade next to her. “He decided to leave the mafia.”
“So they shot him?”
“Yes.”
“How old were you when it happened?”
“Seventeen.”
“Just a teenager!”
“Yes.”
She heard something in his voice that made her look closely at him and she saw the shadow of grief in his eyes. “It must have been terrible for you.”
“It was.”
She waited for him to say more, hoped he’d say more because she so badly wanted to understand him, but he didn’t.
Instead he straightened, and held out a hand to her. “Come, cara, let’s return to the house, join the others again. Tonight is supposed to be a celebration, a chance to welcome you into the family. There will be plenty of opportunities to talk about the past, but tonight is about the present and our plans for the future.”
Hand in hand they returned to the dining room where everyone was just taking their places at the long tables. Jillian was disappointed to discover that she and Vittorio would not be sitting next to each other but across the large square table from each other.
But Vittorio did not neglect her during the lengthy meal. Instead she felt his eyes on her time and again, and more than once she felt as though he was seducing her with his warm gaze, using his dizzying physical presence to arouse her, weaken her, make her want him.
He didn’t realize she always wanted him.
He didn’t realize she would always want him as she’d fallen in love with him. Hopelessly in love.
While the family talked, switching easily between Italian, Sicilian and English for Jillian’s benefit, she tried to imagine life without Vittorio but couldn’t.
Looking at him now talk with his grandmother, remembering the way he held Joe, as well as the way he made love to her, she wondered how she could have ever thought him dangerous. Wondered how she could have doubted his integrity.
Vitt suddenly looked up, caught her gaze, and smiled a slow, intensely physical smile that made her grow hot and cold. He was so incredibly sexual. He did things to her that she couldn’t imagine any other man doing. And she liked how Vitt took her, possessed her, making her feel as if she really, truly belonged with him.
As if she were really, truly his woman.
As if she really, truly had a place here.
And she did want to belong to him, as well as belong here. It’d been years since she’d had a place to call home, much less a stable family.
Hours later when they were finally alone in their bedroom, Vittorio locked the door and dimmed the lights and Jillian smiled shyly. “You read my mind,” she said, moving toward him and unzipping her dress as she walked.
He’d been unfastening the buttons on his shirt but his hands stilled as her dress slid to her hips and then she stepped out of it.
Her pulse drummed as she unhooked her black lace bra and then dropped it on the floor next to her cocktail dress. She felt Vitt’s heavy-lidded gaze focus on her full, bare breasts, and her nipples tightened, puckering, and then his gaze dropped lower as she peeled off her black silk panties.
The air felt cool on her naked body and for a moment she wanted to cover herself but she didn’t. Instead she held her ground and stood before him in just her black high heels and the emerald choker. She let him look, let him get his fill, before she slowly approached him.
His dark eyes burned her as she pushed him backward to sit on the edge of the bed. Her hands shook as she finished unbuttoning his shirt and pushed the soft cotton fabric over his shoulders and down his arms. As she freed his arms he reached out, palmed one of her breasts. Jillian shivered with pleasure, her legs like jelly.
She’d meant to be the one seducing him. She’d meant to show him she could give him the same pleasure he gave her, but Vittorio caught her in his arm
s, and rolled her onto her back and kissed her deeply, thoroughly. It was the way he used to kiss her before she’d run away from him, before she’d hid the pregnancy from him, before everything had become so awful.
She loved the kiss. She loved him. “Vittorio,” she whispered against his mouth, burying her hands in his thick dark hair. He felt so good. He felt like everything she wanted and needed.
He pulled away to remove his trousers and then once naked, he stretched out over her, kissing her again, and then lower on her neck, and then down to her breasts where his tongue bathed and flicked one taut nipple, then the other.
He reached down between her thighs, discovered she was wet and then used his damp fingers to caress her, playing with the sensitive nub until she squirmed against his hand.
“You are always so greedy,” he murmured in amusement as he stroked her again, apparently enjoying how her body shuddered and jerked against his.
“It’s greedy to want you?”
“It’s greedy to rush me,” he answered.
“I can’t help it. I just want you. Not an orgasm. Just you.”
“That I can do.”
She closed her eyes as his powerful thighs pushed her legs open wider. His erection was long and heavy and she felt it brush against her, and then Vittorio was entering her, stretching her to accommodate him.
She loved this moment when they became one, loved the feeling of possession and connection. So much of her life she felt alone, but when they were together like this, she felt whole and peaceful.
He slowly began to move in her and her hands stroked the length of his back, his skin warm and satin smooth beneath her palms. His body was hard and lean, beautifully muscled and she relished the width of his back, the smallness of his waist, the leanness of his hips and the small strong muscles in his butt.
She ran her hands over his butt, feeling the muscles tighten with each thrust of his powerful hips even as she pressed her mouth to his chest, his neck and his jaw. He smelled so good. He felt even better. I love you, she thought, as his hard strong body pushed her to the pinnacle of pleasure. I will love you forever.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THEY’D made love again during the night and Jillian woke early the next morning still wrapped in Vittorio’s arms.