Emma
“You smell like a man.”
Emma stiffened in bed, grabbing a fistful of the sheets at the same time. “Pardon?”
She had been half asleep when Affonso finally came into the bedroom to ready for bed. Her husband hadn’t exactly been quiet as he walked from one end of the bedroom to the other, kicking off his shoes and tossing his clothes wherever they fell.
“You smell like a man, Emma.”
She didn’t get the chance to respond before Affonso’s hand landed on her shoulder, and spun her around in the bed. Under the dim light of the bedside lamp, Affonso’s features darkened in his jealousy. Her heart raced.
“Why do you smell like a man?”
Emma struggled to come up with an appropriate excuse. Calisto had grabbed her and brought her close enough that his woodsy cologne must have lingered. She hadn’t thought anything about it.
“Calisto stopped me before I came upstairs,” Emma said as her brain finally caught up with her mouth.
Affonso’s lips drew into a thin, grim line. “Oh?”
“He gave me a hug. Congratulated me on the pregnancy. I only changed into my chemise and jumped into bed. I didn’t—”
“Well, at least he congratulated you,” Affonso interrupted.
Just like that, his hand released her and he fell back into the bed. Emma’s heart climbed back down her throat and took its rightful place in her chest once more.
She had come to find that Affonso’s jealousies could and would flare at the smallest, most insignificant things. Men couldn’t look at her for long without Affonso questioning them. She couldn’t have male friends at all. His blame and jealousy, when they did come out, were almost always pinned on Emma.
It was disconcerting.
“He didn’t congratulate you?” Emma asked.
“I barely talked to him all night,” Affonso dismissed, waving his hand.
Emma stayed quiet as Affonso dug through his bedside table, finding the things he wanted. He rested back against the plush headboard with a book in hand, his attention gone from Emma for the moment. Even still, a dozen and one questions plowed around in her head, wanting answers.
“You’re chewing on something over there,” Affonso said, never looking away from his book. “Spit it out and get it over with.”
“Safe zone, right?”
Affonso nodded, saying nothing.
For as many things about Affonso that Emma didn’t like, the man did have a few half-decent qualities. Their private space being one. He never let her ask questions or talk about private things, except in the safety of their master bedroom where they wouldn’t be overheard.
It was, quite literally, the marriage bed clause. The one thing someone couldn’t use against Affonso were the things he told his wife in private.
“Why have Calisto as your right-hand if you two clearly don’t get along?” Emma asked.
Affonso chuckled dully. “Oh, we get along. He simply doesn’t like me. There’s a difference.”
He had a point.
“Huh.”
“And he’s good at what he does,” Affonso added, shrugging. “He spent the majority of his life under my feet, making sure I was pleased and doing my bidding. As a boy, nothing made him happier than when he could make me happy. When he became an adult, it was second nature. I had already groomed him for it.”
“What changed?”
Affonso’s flingers froze over the page he was reading. “He became older. His mother died. It was a rough year all around.”
Emma was pretty sure it was more than that. Affonso wasn’t giving her the whole story. He was leaving bits and pieces out. What parts were they?
“Maybe he’ll come back around. The baby and—”
Affonso laughed, cutting Emma off. “I doubt it, sweetheart. Calisto burned that bridge. Or I did. He has no intention of repairing it. I still think he would make a good boss, but because I want it for him, he won’t do it.”
Emma had heard that same statement before, straight from Calisto’s own mouth. She wondered if he had told Affonso that, too.
“He does care for my children, however,” Affonso said like it was an afterthought.
Emma glanced down at her hands. “I noticed. He looks after the girls. They’re very close to him.”
“My bastards, too.”
Ouch.
Emma tried not to cringe as she asked, “Your illegitimate daughters, you mean?”
Affonso hummed his agreement. “I have three other daughters. Calisto watches over them, makes sure their mothers are provided for financially and whatnot. He doesn’t have to, but he has a good sense of duty. He gets that from his father.”
The way Affonso twisted the final word drew in Emma’s attention. He’d said it almost snidely, like there was more to that statement.
“I thought his father died before he was born.”
Affonso didn’t say a thing back.
“He seemed happy about the baby,” Emma lied.
Calisto didn’t seem happy at all.
Affonso did smile that time. “Good. Maybe that will bring him around more often. I don’t like it when he stays away, even if when he does come around, his attitude is unbearable.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Sometimes, he stays away to punish me. He does the bare minimum of what he needs to for his work, and he keeps me at bay. But I would rather have him where I can keep track of him, and deal with his attitude at the same time, than see him keep me at arm’s length.”
Emma was stunned.
Entirely speechless.
Affonso was still looking at his book, unconcerned and cold as he always was. But a sadness lingered in his downturned lips and the browns of his eyes.
He cared about Calisto.
Loved him, even.
“Would you ever tell me about the things that happened when the bridges were burned between you and him?” Emma asked.
Affonso shook his head. “No. As I keep telling Calisto, the past is better left where it is. Behind us all. As it is, he doesn’t let me forget. That’s more than enough. I don’t need yet another person to hold it all over my head, too.”
Emma didn’t press Affonso for more. Her curiosity, on the other hand, was burning as bright as it ever had. She wondered what, if anything, she could find to tell her more. Something had happened between the nephew and uncle that separated them, despite their strong bond.
After all, Affonso had practically raised Calisto.
Carefully, Emma tried to prod for information on a slightly different topic. “Were you close to your brother growing up?”
“Richard was my father’s pet. But yes, mostly.”
“Oh. After he died, his widow must have appreciated that you stepped up for Calisto.”
Affonso barked out a laugh, startling Emma. “Camilla?”
“Yes, Calisto’s mother.”
“God, no. Camilla despised me.”
Well, that left Emma confused again, and with more questions than answers.
“That’s too bad,” she said, unsure of what else to say.
Affonso smirked and turned another page. “That woman always hated me, and the closer I was to her precious son, the more her hatred grew. She didn’t have much of a choice, though.”
“Why not?”
“She had no man to raise her son, and I was the only one who could give Calisto what he needed. She didn’t want me around him, she didn’t want him in the family business, but she wanted him to have a man in his life. None of her family was around after Richard died because she was useless to them without him. She had to depend on someone for her son—that happened to be me.”
“Like a double-edged sword?” Emma asked.
“Sort of. You ask too many questions.”
That was Emma’s cue to shut her mouth. Turning in the bed, she pulled the duvet high enough to cover her shoulders, and hoped it was enough to let Affonso know she wasn’t in the mood to spread her legs and act like she gave a damn that evening.
“You have that doctor’s appointment tomorrow for bloodwork, don’t you?” Affonso asked.
“Sì.”
“Maybe I’ll come along.”
“Sure.”
Emma felt Affonso’s hand pat her hip a second before the lamp was turned off. Affonso shifted around in the bed until he found a comfortable spot.
Then, in the dark, Affonso said, “Should Calisto happen to come around more often because he feels like he needs to keep an eye on you now, I’m going to let him.”
Oh, God.
Emma chewed on her lower lip, not quite knowing where to begin. Affonso had no idea what he was letting in by doing that. Her own husband could very well lead her right back into the temptation she had tried to stay away from once, and failed miserably.
“Is that so?” Emma asked.
“Yes. And if I know Calisto like I think I do, he’ll feel like he owes the child something. He’ll want to be around to make sure everything is fine, even if the baby isn’t born just yet. You’re to encourage it, Emma. I prefer Calisto close, as I told you already.”
Fucking hell.
“You want me to manipulate him. Is that what you’re asking me?”
“I never used that word,” Affonso murmured.
“You didn’t have to.”
He reached back and patted her ass lightly. Emma grit her teeth, said nothing, and waited until his hand was away from her backside.
“Do with it what you will, but I want him close. If that means you use the pregnancy as a way to keep him coming around more often to check up on the baby and things around here, then so be it.”
“Fine,” Emma managed to say.
“Dio, Emma. Don’t sound so sullen. It isn’t you Calisto will care about, it’s the child. My child. He can’t help it, he’s obsessed with caring for his family. He thinks where I fail, he has to pick up the slack.”
Except with you, Emma held back from adding.
“Why do you think I let him handle my daughters? They don’t need me, they have him.”
Emma didn’t correct Affonso, but he was wrong on a dozen different levels. Affonso’s teenaged daughters would forever resent their father for being a distant figure in their lives, buying their love with meaningless possessions and pretty things. Emma and her own father were the perfect example of how that kind of relationship would turn out. She hated her father.
It didn’t matter.
Affonso’s games weren’t important for now.
“If Calisto even comes around, you mean.”
“He will,” Affonso said, strong and sure. “I know the man. He will.”
Emma bent down to hook the strap of her kitten heels around her ankle, only to find Affonso kneeling down in front of her. His hands stopped hers, and he offered her a charming smile.
It was far too sweet to be true.
What did he want at eight in the morning?
“Let me help,” Affonso said.
Emma let him hook the straps, and ignored the way his fingers danced up her calves before coming to a stop on her thighs. His hands were still under the skirt of her summer dress.
“Smile, Emma.”
She did.
“Beautiful,” her husband praised.
It did nothing for her. Just the same way as his hands stroking her bare thighs did nothing for her. Despite worrying the night before that Affonso might want something from her, the man hadn’t actually asked for a lot since she found out she was pregnant a month earlier.
They’d had sex once.
Nothing else.
That was weeks ago.
Instinctively, Emma reached for Affonso’s waist. It was her go-to trick to sedate and please him if he wanted, something without actually having to do very much. She much preferred taking him that way than needing to fake her way through an entire round of sex.
It wasn’t that Affonso wasn’t attractive. At his age, fifty, he appeared a decade younger. He had the virility of a much younger man, and the stamina to match.
Emma just … couldn’t.
She tried.
She couldn’t.
Affonso stopped Emma’s wandering hands, and put them back to her lap with a smile. At least his hands were gone from under her dress. She took that as a win.
“Don’t you want me to—”
“Not today,” Affonso interrupted with a grin. “Besides, sweetheart, you’re not exactly up to the task lately. Hmm?”
Emma blinked, surprised he had noticed. “No, I guess not.”
That wasn’t a total lie.
She was never up for it.
“Hormones. It’s fine.”
Emma smiled back, and it felt honest instead of the fake one she usually wore. “Maybe. I’m tired and sick a lot. It doesn’t help.”
“You don’t need to worry about it. That was something I wanted to talk with you about this morning before we met the girls downstairs for breakfast.”
“Oh?” she asked.
Affonso nodded. “I won’t be coming home tonight. I don’t think you’ll find yourself bored without me, but I figured you should know where I am, in case you need something.”
Emma’s brow furrowed. “You’ve gone away for the night before. What’s different about this time?”
He pulled a card from his slacks pocket, and set it face up on Emma’s lap. A quick glance at the card showcased a woman’s name and phone number written in Affonso’s neat scrawl.
Sandra, it read.
Emma squeezed her fists tight. “Who is that?”
“A good friend,” Affonso said, offering nothing more. “Don’t ask anything else, and you’ll be a much happier woman, I assure you. Ignorance is bliss.”
She could safely assume that the woman was just one of his mistresses.
“You didn’t have to tell me,” Emma muttered. “Or shove it in my face, Affonso.”
“I’m not. I’m also not in the business of hiding things. If I don’t come home on any given night and you need something, you can call here.”
Her stomach rolled.
“Is that all?” Emma asked.
“For now.”
Affonso stood, patted her head with his palm, and left their bedroom without another word. Emma took a few cleansing breaths to steel her nerves before she followed behind him.
She wasn’t surprised at her husband’s actions. Affonso was a bastard. He simply didn’t hide the kind of bastard he was.
Emma slipped the card into her dress pocket, wondering if she should be grateful for the woman her husband went to and thank her, or hate her. It wasn’t actually a choice. Anyone who could distract Affonso from Emma enough to keep him out of their bed was a friend of hers.
She didn’t care.
What she told Calisto months ago still stood. If her husband was fucking someone else, then he was leaving her alone.
What more could Emma ask for?
Emma was surprised to find her step-daughters weren’t milling around the kitchen, waiting for the cook to serve them as she walked in behind Affonso. Sherry, their cook, was behind the island, prepping and going from one bowl to the pan on the stove while muttering under her breath.
“A fair spread this morning?” Affonso asked.
“Yes, sir,” Sherry said, never taking her eyes off the food. “It’s almost finished. I decided to make eggs in a hat the way I used to, but I had to add it onto the rest of the meal I was cooking.”
Affonso smiled, much to Emma’s confusion. “Is that so?”
“Someone’s favorite.”
“Someone?” Emma asked.
Her husband’s grin deepened. “As I said last night, I know the man. I know him much better than he thinks I do.”
Calisto.
“Cal said he was fine with waiting for when you were ready to eat,” Sherry added.
“No problem,” Affonso said, waving it off. “Where is he?”
The cook flicked her wrist in the direction of the second entrance to the kitchen like that explained it all. “With the girls.”
Affonso tipped his head in the same direction the cook had waved. “Emma, go find them and let them know it’s time to eat.”
“Sure,” she said.
“Follow the music,” Affonso told her as she was leaving.
What music?
Emma had no idea what her husband was talking about. She couldn’t hear any music. The downstairs section of the home was as quiet as it ever was, but she was pretty sure that was on purpose. Affonso mentioned once or twice that the home’s walls were doubly thick for business purposes.
Emma didn’t question him more.
She didn’t want to know why.
Toward the back of the house, where the library and Affonso’s private office was located, Emma began to hear the music. The sweet, upbeat tune of the piano flooded the back hallway. Soon, she was leaning in the library doorway, watching Michelle play the piano while Cynthia did a few steps that Emma immediately recognized as ballet.
She hadn’t known the girl danced.
Calisto rested on the edge of the piano bench, smiling in a way that Emma hadn’t seen from him before. It was sweet—affectionate, even. Like he was so damn proud of the girls. Emma hadn’t ever seen Affonso grace them with even a small fraction of that kind of love and attention. Calisto wasn’t their father, and he gave them more than Affonso did.
It was terribly sad.
Once Michelle had finished her song, Emma cleared her throat to gain their attention. She pretended like she didn’t notice Calisto watching her under his lashes in that way of his that said he’d known she had been standing there for a while.
“Time to eat,” Emma said.
“Great. I’m fucking starving,” Cynthia mumbled, making a beeline for the door.
“Watch your mouth,” Calisto barked. “Ladies don’t talk like that.”
Michelle snickered as she strolled past Emma like she wasn’t even standing there. The girl didn’t pretend to like her. “Who said anything about Cynthia being a fucking lady?”
“Oh, my God,” Calisto grumbled.
“They don’t talk like that in front of their father,” Emma noted.
Calisto’s eyes popped open, and a clearness replaced his glassy-eyed look from the night before. He pushed off the bench to stand with a learned grace that Emma appreciated. She just wish her body didn’t appreciate it, too.
“Better for them that they don’t,” Calisto said.
“I see you sobered up.”
“I’m still a little drunk.”
“And you drove here this morning?” she asked, disgusted.
Calisto laughed deeply. “No, I have a driver. Worry not, kitten.”
Emma swallowed hard.
Kitten.
That was a new one.
She liked it.
In his mouth, she liked it a lot.
“What brought you over here this morning, Cal?” she asked. “One apology was enough.”
“Business for Affonso, nothing more. It wasn’t about you.”
Emma hoped he was telling the truth.
Without saying anything else, Calisto crossed the room in long, smooth strides. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he passed her by, not giving her a second look. Emma almost wished he would.
Wary, she followed behind Calisto until they were in the dining room and taking their seats. She filled her plate with different foods, and watched Calisto approach his uncle out of the corner of her eye. Calisto bent down, whispered something into Affonso’s ear, and waited.
Affonso’s features blanked, but anger simmered in his gaze. “What a mess.”
“Yeah,” Calisto agreed vaguely.
“Thank you for letting me know.”
“I’ll handle it, zio.”
“Actually,” Affonso drawled, passing Emma a look, “I think I will handle it this time. I’ll take a trip down and see what they left.”
“I usually handle that for you,” Calisto said.
“I know, but I want to. I’m bored. What else can I say?”
Emma didn’t know what her husband was up to, but she didn’t like it a bit. Especially not when he looked at her again like he was telling her to eat and stay quiet. She shoved a mouthful of pancake into her mouth and chewed.
“Tell you what,” Affonso said, smiling. “You take Emma to her appointment today. I’ll give her enforcer the day off. He can come with me and learn a bit. I’ll go downtown for you.”
Calisto glanced at Emma, unreadable. “Appointment for what?”
“Bloodwork. The baby. Standard things,” Affonso said.
“It’s a quick appointment,” Emma assured.
Calisto sighed, and his jaw clenched. “Sure.”
“Great,” Affonso said, clapping his hands together once.
Calisto wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t exactly running to get away, either.
Wonderful.
“Sit. We’ll eat together. Like a famiglia should,” Affonso demanded.
Calisto smirked, never taking his eyes away from Emma. “Right. Just like a family.”