She touched her nose to mine, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“You did once,” she whispered. “I believe you will again.” When she opened her eyes, they were shining. She hiccupped slightly. “I have faith, you know?”
It melted my cold, scarred heart.
“God, do I ever,” I murmured, then captured her lips with mine.
We swayed together a bit longer, body pressed to body, mouth brushing mouth, tongue occasionally even touching tongue, until the music finally ended. Nina laid her head on my shoulder, clearly exhausted, whether from the last few days’ travel or the intensity of the conversation.
“Come on, baby,” I told her, and then, before she could say anything, I bent down and swept her into my arms, holding her to my chest. Precious cargo. The most.
“Let me put you to bed,” I told her as I carried her there.
Her hand remained clenched into the back of my hair, even as I laid her on the bed.
“Shh,” I told her as she nuzzled into my chest.
“Don’t go,” she murmured, pulling me close. “Please stay with me.”
I brought her knuckles to my lips and pressed kisses to her empty left ring finger. “I’m here.”
There was the urge to do more, of course. I knew in my soul that I’d want this woman carnally until the day I died, and there was a good chance she’d let me have my way, too. I could sink her into the linens, cage her under my body. And she’d give, because in her own way, Nina had never been more vulnerable.
But for once, I was in no hurry to take her. Because for once, the sun rising the next day wasn’t a threat, but a blessing. We weren’t limited to a few short hours to get what we needed from each other’s bodies, maybe our hearts if we could. Tonight, we had a little bit more. We had tomorrow, and the next day, and maybe the next day, too.
That night, my dreams didn’t haunt me. My mind stayed blank, my thoughts at peace. Because all I had ever wanted was safe in my arms. And for once, I was safe in hers.
Chapter Thirteen
Nina
“We could go to the Uffizi. Or see the David since you’ve never gone. The lines are much smaller this time of year, so I’m sure we could get in quickly.”
Matthew gave me a look as he picked up his cappuccino from the top of a bar just off the Piazza Santa Croce. “Come on, doll. There’s no use putting off the inevitable.”
I sighed. It was nine thirty in the morning, and Matthew and I had been up for hours. After spending the night wrapped together in our own perfect cocoon, the fact that I was still on New York time prevented us from sleeping in any later than six. We’d gone for a chilly run along the Arno River, watched the sun rise over the terracotta roofs from Piazzale Michelangelo, then meandered back through the old town to clean up at our pensione. Eventually, we wandered toward the Piazza Santa Croce and nodded politely to the shop owners at the mercato as they prepared to open for the day until we found a place to get some coffee and a few cornetti for breakfast.
Matthew licked a few errant crumbs off his bottom lip, and I inhaled sharply. This torture had been going on all morning too. Like last night, getting ready for the day required a bit of musical chairs. Matthew showered first, and when he emerged, it was impossible not to be a little hypnotized by the way the drape of his towel revealed the elegant curvature of muscle and bone at his hips and abdominals. A few stray droplets clung to his amber skin, then slipped over his left pectoral. I had watched as though in a trance, then looked up to find him watching me back, one brow perked as if daring me to do more than just look.
I considered it, truly. But in the end I edged around him, clothes in hand, and contented myself with a fairly cold shower and more time than necessary to get myself dressed and ready for the day.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to feel his soft skin under my fingers and bury myself in his fresh water scent, particularly after having spent the night completely surrounded by his warm, solid body. It was that I wanted it perhaps too much. And I just wasn’t quite ready to be overwhelmed by him all over again. Not yet.
Much good it did me. I was still salivating, and it wasn’t because of the half-eaten pastry on my plate. With the collar of his black wool coat popped up and his favorite gray fedora tilted to one side, Matthew looked more like a private eye than usual. The kind who generally seduced the lady in distress.
“You came to Florence to do something,” he pointed out. “Might as well get it over with. Then, if you want, we can climb the Duomo or check out some Botticelli.”
My heart skipped again, but this time with dread. In my purse was a small piece of paper bearing an address. Eric had contacted a local investigator before Christmas, who had tracked down Giuseppe’s wife. My first point of contact.
“You’re right,” I said bleakly, then tipped back the remains of my cappuccino. I wasn’t finishing the cornetto. Not with the knots in my stomach. “We should go.”
“Wait, doll. I have something for you.”
Matthew pulled from his pocket a small brown cardboard box the size of a pack of cards and set it tentatively on the bar, next to my empty cup.
“What’s this?” I wondered.
“One year ago today,” he said, “I walked into a bar and met you. And my life changed completely. I know it’s not an anniversary, per se—though one day, God willing, maybe we can celebrate one of those too. But for now, we have this.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. An entire year. Had it really been that long since I had stumbled into that bar on a cold winter’s night?
Matthew nudged the box toward me. “It’s not much. I can’t really afford a lot of fancy jewelry these days anyway.”
“Well, I have enough of that regardless.” I picked up the box. “What is it?”
“I saw it at a shop by the Vatican the day before you arrived.”
I lifted the top. Inside, nestled in a bit of blue silk, was a gold coin-shaped medallion not unlike the one Matthew wore bearing the likeness of San Gennaro. This one, though, had a delicate engraving of a woman inside a circle of writing that said “St. Anna” along the top of the pendant and the initials “O.P.N.” at the bottom.
“What does that stand for?” I asked, pointing to the engraving.
“Ora pro nobis. It means ‘pray for us’ in Latin. Saint Ann is the patron saint of mothers. And equestrians.”
I looked up in time to see his mouth quirk in a slight smile. “Horses?”
“It seemed to fit.” Matthew reached across the table and closed his hand on top of mine and the necklace. “Don’t worry, I don’t expect you to wear it—that’s why I didn’t get a chain too. But I thought maybe you could keep it in your pocket sometimes if you want, for good luck. Or, you know, in the back of your closet, if you’d rather.”
He shrugged, like what I did with the trinket was of no consequence, but the way his eyes darted, avoiding my gaze, told me differently. He needn’t have worried.
I took the pendant out of the box and wrapped it securely in the blue silk. True, it did feel a little strange to think of wearing the iconography of a religion that wasn’t my own. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t keep it close. I pulled out my wallet and tucked the silk-wrapped disc into the empty coin purse. Once it was zipped, a circular outline was evident through the leather. It would spoil the Chanel, but I couldn’t have cared less. It would only do more to remind of this moment.
“I’ll treasure it,” I said. “Thank you, Matthew.”
His green eyes shone with pleasure. “Anytime, doll.”
“I’m really glad you’re here,” I told him honestly. “I don’t know that I would have had the courage to go through with this if you hadn’t gotten it in your head to follow me. Thank you.”
“I’m sure you would have done fine. But…” He gave me a funny look, then sighed. “I should tell you something.”
I frowned, and my stomach clenched a bit tighter. “What is it?”
He paused, looking entirely too
guilty for my comfort.
“I didn’t just come of my own accord,” he said as he turned his saucer back and forth on the bar top. “I wanted to, but I, ah, couldn’t afford it. My administrative leave is unpaid, see, and I couldn’t just take off and leave Frankie with all the bills, so…well, Jane and Eric, um, technically, they hired me. To meet you here. Paid for the car, the hotels. All of it.”
I swallowed. My skin felt like it was prickling all over. Was it September all over? Matthew suddenly encouraging our relationship again when in fact he had an ulterior motive?
I did love you, he had insisted only a few weeks ago.
I had been too angry, too confused to believe it then.
But now? Had I meant it when I said I had forgiven him?
I looked up. “So, you’re getting paid to be here?”
Matthew nodded uncertainly. “That’s right. I had to take it if I wanted to come. Frankie can’t pay the mortgage by herself. And she and Sofia, they depend on me, you know…”
I nodded, though I felt quite ashamed. Of course. How could I have been so selfish not to consider the very real things this relationship had cost him? Or this trip, for that matter? But I had never had those kinds of responsibilities, had I? Even now, when I was technically dependent on Eric, I never questioned that he or anyone else in my family would lend me enough—more than enough—to live on. I had never had to work for a single thing. Not really.
“Are you mad?”
I blinked as I retrieved my phone from my purse. “Mad? No. I’m not sure what I think about Eric hiring a babysitter for me, but I’m not mad that you accepted an offer to replace the job I cost you.”
Quickly, I pulled up a contact and pressed the call button.
“What are you doing?”
“Hush,” I said. “It’s ringing.”
Matthew’s mouth dropped, but curiously, he obeyed.
“Bridget McAvoy,” answered Eric’s personal assistant in a dignified, if sleepy voice.
“Hello, Bridget, this is Nina de Vries,” I said, then flushed as I realized what time it was in New York. “I’m so sorry to wake you. I’ll call back—”
“No, no, no, Ms. de Vries. I was up, I promise.”
I smiled. Matthew’s brows crinkled in amusement.
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“Yes, Ms. de Vries. Mr. de Vries said you were top priority during your trip. Is everything all right? Something you need?” The poor woman sounded confused that I was calling her at all.
“I need you to pass a message on to Eric, please. I’ll send him a text too. It’s come to my attention that he hired Mr. Zola to accompany me here as a translator.”
“Oh…yes…you see, Mr. de Vries simply offered Mr. Zola the equivalent of his former salary at the district attorney’s office.” Bridget spoke quickly, clearly concerned that I was upset over the arrangement. “It’s only enough to pay his bills, ma’am.”
“No, no, Bridget, you misunderstand,” I said. “It’s not enough.”
“Not—not enough, ma’am?”
Matthew was frowning even more adorably now. By this point, the street around us was humming with activity as people finished their morning commutes. He could obviously only hear my side of the conversation.
“Not nearly,” I said. “Bridget, please run a check on Mr. Zola’s accounts, and then tell Eric that I am requesting funds from my trust to pay the balance on the remainder of Mr. Zola’s debts, including his student loans and mortgage.”
Matthew’s elbow slipped off the bar.
“Nina,” he sputtered. “What—what?”
“And I would like whatever wage he is receiving for this trip doubled,” I finished with a wry smile. “Eric won’t argue, and if he does, tell him to take it up with Jane. Or call me, if he must.”
“Very well,” Bridget said, still somewhat bleary. “Will there be anything else, Ms. de Vries?”
“No, Bridget. Go back to sleep. Thank you.”
I placed my phone on the bar top carefully. Matthew looked like he was having a hard time speaking.
“What…what did you just do?” he asked hoarsely.
I sighed. “Please tell me you can accept a simple gift.”
“Nina, you just—if you did what I think you did—you—that’s not exactly a simple gift!” He gestured toward the now empty box on the table, as if to demonstrate the difference.
“Matthew.” I quieted him by setting my hand on top of his. I had never felt so sure about, well, anything. “Did you mean what you said last night? About wanting me to feel safe?”
“Of course, but—”
“Well, I want the same for you.” I inhaled. I hadn’t really understood how true that was until I said it out loud. “Did you ever consider that? I can’t do much for you, but my money can. Eric might be holding the purse strings, but some of the money in that bag belongs to me, not him. And I’ll use it as I like.”
“Still—”
“It’s already done. You don’t owe me anything else.” I brushed my thumb over the top of his hand.
Finally, he stopped sputtering. “Owe you anything else? What’s that supposed to mean?” He pulled off his hat and rubbed his face. “The whiplash, Nina. It’s real. A month ago you wanted nothing to do with me. Now you’re feeling guilty yourself?”
I sighed, and turned to look over the piazza, now bright with sunlight, the white marble facade of the Basilica di Santa Croce gleaming brightest of all at the far end.
“Look at us,” I said. “Look at this. We are in one of the most beautiful places on earth, and for the first time, I can stand next to you in broad daylight. I can look at you and not have to hide my expression for concern of who might see. Kiss you without fear of being discovered.”
Slowly, Matthew smiled, casting a dimple on the left side of his cheek. But I wasn’t through.
“But there is still a mess waiting for me back in New York. Another just a few minutes away. I’ve already cost you your job. I suspect continued involvement with me may cost you more than that.”
Matthew looked uneasy, but he didn’t argue.
“Just as I thought,” I said, though the knot in my stomach tightened.
“I cost myself my job, Nina. I should have turned over the case from the beginning.”
“Either way, I won’t blame you if you don’t want to deal with me anymore. So…you don’t have to.”
Just like that, his frown reappeared. “Come again?”
I swallowed. “You’re not beholden to Eric because this money will come from my inheritance, not his. So forget whatever he is or isn’t paying you for. I’m the one doing that. And I’m saying…if you don’t really want to be here, you can go.”
I’d told him last night that love was about keeping the other safe enough to fly together. Now I was putting my money where my mouth was, so to speak. Without a tether, a duty to Eric…would Matthew fly away again now that his wings were no longer clipped?
Essentially, I was asking if he was here for the money, or if he had really meant what he said about wanting to repair what had been broken between us. If he really would do whatever it took.
Matthew replaced his hat and examined me for a few long minutes. I stared at my empty coffee cup, wishing there was a bit more to drink for want of something to do. The brittle cornetto seemed like it would stick in my throat.
But then he cracked another sly half-smile. “In broad daylight, you say?”
I looked up and flushed under the sudden heat of his gaze. “Well, yes. It is nearly ten.”
With a simple, graceful movement that never failed to catch me off guard, Matthew slipped a hand under the folds of my coat to grab my waist and pulled us both to standing. And then his lips were on mine, sweetened with espresso and cream, lush and open as only Matthew could be.
I opened right back, to a chorus of whistles from passersby, even a clap from the barman who had served us. When Matthew finally released me, I was completely out of breath.
“I don’t know what to say about you buying me off your cousin,” he said. “But I’ll never say no to kissing you in the open, duchess. Not when I’ve been dreaming about it for an entire year.”
“You’re not the only one who can take care of the people you love, you know,” I reprimanded him, even as I took his collar with both hands and pulled him close again.
He pressed his forehead to mine. “Love?”
I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the fear knotted in my stomach right alongside the joy when he looked at me like this. “It’s looking that way again, isn’t it?”
I could feel his smile curve against my lips.
“I’ll hold you to that, Ms. de Vries,” he said, and then kissed me again.
Chapter Fourteen
Matthew
After I spent a few more minutes making out with Nina in the middle of the street like we were sixteen-year-olds on spring break instead of thirtysomethings on a somber mission, we finally left the piazza and started making our way toward Gavinana, a residential neighborhood in the southeast part of Florence.
A weight had been lifted. Not entirely. Not all the way. There were a lot of questions still, and I could feel New York and the burdens of home waiting for us like a dark cloud ready to burst. I also wasn’t sure what to make of the sudden generosity that would change my life in more ways than I could count—or if I’d even accept it once we were home.
But I understood what she was trying to do. Nina valued freedom more than anything else, I was discovering. And why not—she had lived in one gilded cage or another her entire life. The fact that she loved me enough to, in her mind, set me free? I’d take it. The rest—all the questions and complications waiting for us in New York like a storm brewing on the horizon—would be solved eventually. They had to be.
It was a nice, if slightly cold day, so we decided to walk the forty or so minutes to Gavinana, meandering across the Ponte San Niccolò to Lungarno Francesco Ferrucci, a street that afforded us glimpses of the river every so often. Nina was dressed in some of the most casual clothes I’d ever seen her in. Under her cashmere coat, she had traded her typical designer dresses for a pair of tight, dark jeans and equestrian-style riding boots that were putting some less-than-innocent thoughts in my head. With her hair tied back and cheeks pinked from the breeze and (I hoped) a bit of happiness, Nina looked like she could have been a student again. But still, as ever, a perfect lady.
The Honest Affair (Rose Gold Book 3) Page 15