by Penelope Sky
“Does he live here?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “He has his own bedroom on the bottom floor. My husband and I are on the third floor, so he pretty much has the house to himself.”
Being a butler sounded like a pretty good gig. But I assumed if Lars lived at the house, he didn’t have a family of his own to go to. Maybe he didn’t have children either. The fact that the Barsettis had adopted this old man only made me love them more. They were the family that Lars needed to have. Now I knew where Conway inherited his compassion—from his parents.
“How do you like Dante?” Mrs. Barsetti asked.
“He’s an exceptional chef,” I said. “But when I first moved in, he didn’t like me.”
“He didn’t?” Mr. Barsetti asked. “How could he not?”
“She’s not explaining the whole story.” Conway sat beside me, holding his utensils without cutting into his chicken. “When she first moved in with me, she didn’t understand how to be waited on. So she would try to make her own lunch and do her own laundry.”
“So?” I asked. “I felt bad having this man do stuff for me when I’m capable of doing it myself.”
Mrs. Barsetti smiled. “You remind me of myself. I did the same thing when I first moved in with Crow.”
“But she has a good point,” Vanessa said. “It’s strange to have someone do stuff for you. It makes you lazy. I didn’t learn how to make a sandwich until I went to university. I didn’t even know how to do my own laundry. That first week was rough…”
Mrs. Barsetti chuckled. “At least you learned.” She turned her gaze on her son, her look innately soft. “How’s work been, Con?”
Just as he did when he was at home, he used perfect table manners. He held himself perfectly straight, his elbows off the table and his movements silent. “Never better. I’m getting ready for a new product line in a few weeks.”
“That’s nice,” Mrs. Barsetti said. “You did such a great job last time that it must be stressful to attempt to top it.”
“I’m sure you can do it,” Mr. Barsetti said confidently.
Knowing their son made lingerie must be awkward, but they were so supportive about it. It was obvious Conway’s parents would love him no matter what he decided to commit his life to. They were the kind of parents that only existed in stories, not real life. Mr. Barsetti was obviously traditional, producing goods from the soil and selling them for profit. I didn’t know much about Italian culture, but they seemed to be shining examples of it.
“How’s the car business?” Cane asked Carter.
I didn’t know anything about Carter, other than the fact that he was Conway’s cousin.
“Never better,” Carter answered. “People always want European engineering. Can’t say I blame them.”
“You sell cars?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“Yes,” Carter answered. “But I also design them. I’m the founder and CEO of Steel Automobiles, luxury cars similar to Ferraris and Lamborghinis. They’re popular across Europe, but they’re increasing in popularity in the States. I started with one idea when I was seventeen and grew it into a company.”
“Wow…are all the Barsettis this accomplished?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Not me,” Vanessa said bluntly. “I never sign up for morning classes because I like to sleep until nine every day.”
Conway moved his hand to my thigh under the table. “My sister is the black sheep of the family…”
“Just because you sleep in doesn’t mean you’re unaccomplished,” Mr. Barsetti said. “You just do your best work at night. That’s all.”
Vanessa locked her gaze on to mine then rolled her eyes.
I stopped myself from chuckling.
The conversation continued, and they talked about the wine business mostly. Mr. Barsetti and Cane worked together to manage the company, and it seemed like Adelina helped once in a while. Mrs. Barsetti was a lot more involved.
“What do you do in your spare time?” Mrs. Barsetti asked me. “Do you have any hobbies?”
“I work in the stables every day,” I answered. “I help Marco clean the stalls, groom the horses, and take care of the feed and the hay. The barn requires a lot of work too. We’ve been having a bit of a heat wave, so we’ve been moving the horses inside so they stay cool.”
“You work out there all day?” Mrs. Barsetti asked incredulously.
Her disappointed look made me regret telling the truth. Maybe they thought I was classless for working outside all day. Maybe they thought I should help Conway more. “Uh…yeah. I’ve always like horses.”
Mrs. Barsetti turned her fierce gaze on Conway. “You let her do hard labor in hundred-degree weather?”
“I tried to talk her out of it, but she likes it,” Conway answered. “She enjoys it. And according to Marco, she’s a natural. The horses like her, and the stables have never looked better.”
“I thought something was different when I stopped by,” Mr. Barsetti said. “That’s impressive. Good for you, Sapphire.” He turned to his wife. “I thought you would admire her for that.”
“I do,” Mrs. Barsetti said. “I just wanted to make sure she liked it…” She finally tore her accusatory look away from her son.
Now I knew why Conway wanted to keep the truth of our relationship a secret. I could picture Mrs. Barsetti doing more than just giving him a dirty look. If she knew he bought me to keep me as property, I couldn’t even imagine what she might do.
“She also helps me with my work,” Conway said. “She helps me create my pieces.”
“And inspires them,” Carter jabbed with a smile.
Conway didn’t show the slightest hint of shame. “Yes. She’s my biggest inspiration.” He held Carter’s gaze without flinching.
The rest of his family kept eating, ignoring the incredibly awkward thing Conway had just said.
Vanessa was the only one to comment on it. “And off to the next subject…”
* * *
We spent the evening on the patio, drinking wine and enjoying the assorted cakes that Lars had made. White lights were hung in the trees, and the moths floated toward the brightness. The sun had been gone for hours, but the heat still filtered across the land. I could feel it through my skin and directly to my bone.
Conway rested his arm over the back of my chair, looking handsome in his t-shirt and jeans. He had a strong chest and even stronger shoulders. It was the Barsetti build, because all the other men seemed to have a similar musculature.
He looked down at me as I ate my chocolate cake. “Like it?”
“Uh, duh. This is amazing.” I kept shoveling the chocolate into my mouth, enjoying the moist cake and creamy frosting.
Conway never ate sweets. He didn’t even take cream in his coffee. “There’s nothing Lars can’t do, not even in his eighties.”
“He’s eighty?” I asked incredulously.
“Eighty-five,” he answered. “I can’t believe it either.”
“Well, he sure knows how to bake a cake.” I set the plate of half-eaten cake on the table and cut myself off. “If I eat anymore, I won’t be able to fit into my clothes anymore.”
He chuckled. “You can eat whatever you want. You look beautiful no matter what.”
I looked up at him with a skeptical look, surprised he would say something so sweet. He had a strict preference when it came to the models that wore his lingerie. I thought if I gained even a pound, I would be criticized for it. “I thought I had to stay a certain size.”
“You aren’t on the runway anymore. You can do whatever you want.”
“Watch what you say…I’ll go on an eating spree and never stop.”
He pressed his face close to mine, not caring about the look his surrounding family gave us. “Go ahead, Muse.” He rubbed his nose against mine. “I’ll still want to fuck you just the same.” He kept his voice at a whisper so no one would overhear his words. Then he pulled away and took another drink of his wine.
Vanessa
was watching us from across the table. “Mom, Dad, you know what Conway calls Sapphire?”
Mrs. Barsetti swirled her wine before she took a drink. “What?”
“Muse,” Vanessa said. “I heard him say it before we got in the car.”
I felt my cheeks redden instantly because the nickname was so intimate. He’d started calling me that when we first met. I’d only heard him say my birth name once or twice. To others, it might just be a nickname. But that was the name he whispered when he was between my legs. It was the name he said when he commanded me to please him. It was the name he used to possess me.
Mr. Barsetti shifted his gaze to his son and studied him with a reserved expression. His thoughts were nearly impossible to see because he hid them behind a calculated gaze. He never smiled. When he greeted his kids, he showed them affection. But a smile never broke across his lips.
Mrs. Barsetti gave him an entirely different look. It was soft, touched with a hint of a smile.
Just like the last time he was put on the spot, Conway didn’t squirm. There was nothing that anyone could say to make him uncomfortable in his own skin. He knew exactly who he was, and he wasn’t ashamed of that truth. He was a lingerie designer—and I was his ultimate inspiration. “Yes, she’s my obsession.” He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of my knuckles.
Now I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my lips. I couldn’t stop my eyes from softening. The second his warm lips touched my skin, I felt a shiver run down my spine. As with any other time he touched me, my body came to life. Even in front of his family, the feeling couldn’t be restrained.
Mrs. Barsetti leaned toward her husband then whispered something in this ear.
His expression still didn’t change.
Vanessa rose from her chair, carrying her glass of wine. “Well, I like you better when your obsession is around. So you better keep her, Con.”
He held my hand on his thigh and squeezed it. “I will.”
* * *
Vanessa and I sat at the edge of the pool with our feet dangling in the water. We shared a bottle of red wine and listened to the crickets chirp into the night. The stars were bright overhead because the lights from Florence were too far away. It was such a peaceful place, reminding me of the home I shared with Conway.
“My parents got married under that tree.” Vanessa pointed to a mighty oak tree away from the patio. “At least, that’s what I’ve been told.”
“That’s nice.”
“It was a small wedding with just a few people.” She pointed to a different tree. “We used to have a tire swing that hung from that branch, but a bad storm came through and snapped it off the trunk. We never got another one.”
“I wonder what Conway looked like as a boy.”
“There’s pictures all over the house. You’ll see them.” She kept drinking, on her sixth or seventh glass, but she didn’t seem affected by the alcohol.
“You guys really know how to carry your liquor. I used to be a bartender, and so many people tip over after a few drinks.”
“The Barsettis were made to drink,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve seen my father drink wine for breakfast. He usually drinks scotch in the evenings. I’m not a fan of it. Wine has so much more flavor.”
I remembered Conway mentioning that. “Conway drinks scotch too.”
“Yeah, he’s a younger version of my father. Sometimes I get them confused from behind.”
I saw a lot of the same qualities among all of the men. Mr. Barsetti seemed to be the silent patriarch of the entire family. He ruled quietly, but his power was felt. The way Conway described him was dead on.
Vanessa turned to me, her dress pulled up to her thighs so it wouldn’t get wet. “My brother is so head over heels for you. It grosses me out, but it’s so cute that it cancels out the nausea. I’m really glad he’s finally found the woman to spend his life with. You know, I was afraid he’d be into some stuck-up, hoity-toity, high-maintenance, dumb bitch model type, and I’m so glad he’s not. I guess my brother has better judgment than he lets on.”
It was a flattering thing to say. Vanessa just gave me her approval to spend my life with her brother. Too bad it was all a lie. “We aren’t getting married, Vanessa. The relationship is still relatively new…”
“it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. I’ve never been in love, but I know it doesn’t work on a timetable. Whether it’s been a week or a hundred weeks, it doesn’t change the intensity of emotions. I don’t know much about love, personally, but I recognize it when I see it. I see it when Conway looks at you. It’s the same way my father looks at my mother.”
Another jolt of warmth filled my insides. I knew I was his possession, his lustful obsession. He promised to give me all of him, to be faithful to me since I was the only woman he wanted. It was a commitment, but not necessarily a relationship. What Vanessa saw was our connection, the physical infatuation we had for one another. The symptoms were so similar to love that it was easy to mistake them. Since I couldn’t correct her, I didn’t. “Conway is a good man. I’m very lucky.” I felt the sincerity throb in my heart when I said those words. If someone judged him in black and white, they’d see him as a terrible person. But when you really examined his actions in our context, he was full of goodness. He took care of me better than any other man ever could. I was nothing without him.
“Yeah, he’s not so bad,” she whispered. “You know, when he’s not stalking my dates or prying into my personal life.”
I chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a little extreme.”
“And he’s worse with you. You probably can’t even go to the store without him watching you.”
She was absolutely right, but for many different reasons.
10
Conway
I sat with my father on the patio while Uncle Cane, Aunt Adelina, Mom, and Carter talked on the other side of the table. They talked about cars most of the time, but then the subject changed to his personal life.
Carter didn’t have much of a personal life. It was all fucking and drinking, but of course, you couldn’t tell your family that.
Muse and Vanessa sat with their feet in the pool, sharing a bottle of wine and laughing together—probably at my expense. Vanessa was probably telling Muse every embarrassing story she could think of, and Muse would tease me about it once we were alone together.
My father was quiet, drinking his wine without making conversation. His eyes were trained on the girls in the pool, watching their movements like he might miss something. His silence was suffocating. It was obvious he was thinking something, but what, no one could figure out.
Well, except my mother.
He finished his wine then refilled his glass. “They get along really well.”
“Unfortunately. Vanessa has made Muse…Sapphire her new best friend.” Muse was the only name I ever used, and it was difficult for me to separate the names when I was around other people. My father called my mother Button, but to this day, I had no idea why. Every time I asked, he wouldn’t answer.
“Vanessa is friendly, but picky. She wouldn’t be friends with Sapphire if she didn’t genuinely like her.”
There was so much to like about my muse. She was easy to talk to, understanding, and she had carefully crafted responses when prompted. She was as smart as she was beautiful, but she was exceptionally humble. Her appearance didn’t mean much to her. She cared more about getting her hands dirty in the stables than lying by the pool all day in a bikini. “There’s very little to dislike about Sapphire…if there’s anything at all.” I drank my wine, an aged red that my father had pulled from his cellars underneath the house.
“You seem infatuated with her.” My father had never said anything like that to me before. When it came to my personal life, he never crossed that line. I’d been a man for ten years, and not once had it come up.
“Because I am.”
He continued to stare at the girls by the pool. “I respect her for working in th
e stables. She wants to contribute to your estate. She’s not just with you for your money, that’s clear.”
She was with me because I bought her. But if I said that to my father, he’d put me in a hospital bed. “She doesn’t like to sit around. She gets bored.”
“But working outside is tough work, let alone in the stables. She could cook or clean, but she decided to do something else. That woman is made of something stronger than everyone else. I can tell just by looking at her. She’s a survivor, she’s a hard worker. She’s the kind of woman that makes a boy a man.”
She definitely made me into a man every night. And she’d definitely survived horrendous tragedies. Anyone else would have been too scared to run from Knuckles in the first place, for fear of a crueler punishment. But not Muse. She hauled ass and didn’t give up. She made sacrifices in order to keep going, and even when she hit rock bottom, she still kept her dignity. People earned respect when they were at the height of their success, but respect should be earned when you’re at the bottom of your resources. That was when character was truly tested. Her character had been tested, and she bloomed like a rose. “Yes, she’s exceptional.”
“When are you going to ask her?”
“Ask her what?”
My father turned his gaze on me. “To marry you.”
I held his gaze and felt my heart pound in my chest. When my father stared at me with those powerful eyes, I couldn’t back down. I had to be worthy of his look. “It’s too soon for that.”
“But it’s not too soon for her to live with you?” he countered. “If you love her, marry her.”
“I never said I loved her.”
“Are you saying you don’t?” He narrowed his eyes.