Chapter Sixteen
Chiara
He said I love you. Frankie hasn’t even said that. He’s slowing his pace while moving inside me. He’s kissing me, gently and full of feeling. He’s showing me he loves me with his body. It’s heady, and scary. I want him, I do. But do I love him? It’s too early to know. I want to run with him, but I can’t go. I was being selfish when I asked if he’d have sex with me after I was married. But I can’t see any other way for us to be together.
He slows to a stop, and moves his mouth to kiss my cheek. After we come back down, I’m reminded that I shouldn’t be doing this, that it’s wrong, that I’m engaged to someone else. But every time I’m with Misha the guilt lessens. He’s so careful with me, so caring, I can tell he feels something for me. Love? I don’t know if he knows me well enough to say it’s love, although I don’t know what’s inside his head.
“I got swept up in the moment, and I couldn’t stop myself. I shouldn’t have said it.” He’s kissing my neck, and muttering in my ear. It’s sexy as hell, but his words make me tense up. He moves so he can look into my eyes, and says almost forcefully, “I meant it, treasure. I just don’t think now is the right time. I’ve had time to get to know you. You’re still learning about me.”
I smile in reply, because I am learning a lot about this man. He’s a giving lover. He’s considerate. He’s obsessively clean. And he’s hot as hell. Like scorching hot. The whole hired killer thing should be a bigger negative, but I’m starting to not even think about him that way. The ink he’s wearing should be a bigger reminder, but his beautiful face and sexy body overshadow the tattoos.
“I like what I know,” I admit, as I reach out to caress his cheek.
“I don’t know why. I’m filth,” he groans as he moves off the bed and walks toward my bathroom. I hold my breath, because I know mine is so much messier than his. He says nothing, though, as I hear the commode flush, then water running. He’s in there for several minutes, and I’m wondering if he’s shoving my make up into a drawer. Then he opens the door, glances into my bedroom, and places his hands firmly on his hips. “We’re going to need separate bathrooms.”
I roll my eyes and chuckle, but I also reach for the sheet to hide my embarrassment. I don’t have men in my bedroom, so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing it, but I should have known he’d come tonight. I mean, I left the door unlocked hoping he would.
“What is this stuff? Exfoliating sugar face scrub? Spot treatment? Vitamin E face oil? Moisturizing wrinkle cream?” He picks them up one by one and stares at them. Then he opens them and sniffs them. He’s nearly six and a half feet of prime cut beefcake, manhandling my beauty products. And it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
“I have dry skin, and pimples…” I inform him. Not that it’s any of his business what I put on my face.
“But you don’t have wrinkles,” he insists, and turns toward me. Damn, he’s beautiful.
“And I don’t plan on getting them, either,” I reply impishly.
Then he finds a tube of body lotion and squirts some out. He rubs it into his hands then pulls them up to his nose. “It smells like you.”
“How did you get so organized,” I ask, as I watch him perusing my things. “What makes you keep everything so neat?”
“I dunno… I just feel in control when everything is in its place.” He flips off the light and returns to my bed. At least I had the forethought to change the sheets. He climbs in beside me, pulls me into his big strong arms, and lightly kisses my forehead. “I love you. I treasure you. One day soon we will be together. I swear to you, my love, no one will tear us apart.”
I close my eyes, and listen to his heart beat and his breathing. Misha is what I never knew I needed.
*****
I awake to the sound of my phone ringing. “Misha?” I say, as I roll over toward the table. I look around the room and find the bathroom empty, and his clothing isn’t laying in the floor. He’s gone again, just like he was after the first night we spent together.
I grab my phone, and sigh loudly when I see it’s my mom. “Hello, Mom,” I say when I answer.
“Sweetheart, I need you to come over and stay with your brother and sister. I just need a break, Chi, and I know you’re off today.” I suppress a groan, and stretch. I still feel a slight soreness from our lovemaking, and it feels so comforting.
“Sure. Let me shower and I’ll be right over,” I say. It’s not like I’m doing anything else. I have no idea where Misha is, or what he’s doing. He slips in and out so quietly, I would never have known he was here last night if I wasn’t watching for him. And the only way I saw him was the flashlight he carried with him.
“Thank you, sweetie. Can you pick up some bagels on the way? You know what we like.” Mom hangs up quickly after that. I’ve spent many Saturday afternoons this way, giving my mom the respite she so desperately needs. This is why I returned home, after all.
I move groggily to the bathroom, and when I look in the mirror I smile.
A heart drawn in red lipstick, my favorite of course, greets me. Inside the heart is an M, and surrounding it is a C. I should clean it off, but I don’t. I leave it.
And I think about it while I’m in the shower, and while I’m on the bus, and while I’m getting bagels and cream cheese. And I’m still smiling when I enter my parents’ house.
My mom must have been hovering at the door, waiting for my arrival. But when she sees me, she stops suddenly. “You look happy. Have you and Frankie finally…”
My eyes go wide when she suggests it. Is it that obvious that I’ve lost my virginity? My mom could tell immediately. “No, Mom, God no. How could you even suggest that?”
“Because you just look so satisfied. Are you sure you didn’t get some?” She’s grinning from ear to ear as she says it. It makes me feel literally dirty. Because my mom is saying it? Because she’s right? And because she’s so damn wrong.
“You know I don’t feel that way about Frankie. You know I’m only marrying…”
I stop, because she suddenly looks horrified. Oh God, she doesn’t know.
My mouth is firmly closed now. I look away from her, turning my head almost violently. That’s when she grabs my shoulders, and turns me to face her. Her gray eyes are wide with the realization of the truth. “You tell me right now, Chi. You tell me.” She shakes me one good time when I refuse to talk. “What did your father do this time?”
I shake my head, and fight the tear that’s threatening to fall. “I brought bagels. Has Nicky eaten?”
“You stop right now, Chi. Stop being the withdrawn one, and tell me.” I’ve never realized how much Guilia looks like her, until right this moment. She must have been incredible when she was younger. My father is lucky, because he’s a total schmuck compared to her. I wonder if her father forced her to marry him. “Chiara you tell your mother the truth, right now.”
The tears are coming, and they’re not going to stop. Damn it, why does she have to pick now to worry about me? I’ve always been the one she depended on, the one she practically took for granted. Yea, all those nights I was at home during high school, I was helping take care of the younger kids. Angelina was out raising hell, and I was stuck at home. I don’t regret it, not now that I have Misha.
She grabs me and hugs me, and the tears flow along with the truth. “He’s threatening to marry Guilia off to Dante if I don’t marry Frankie.”
“What!” she screams right in my ear. I cringe, and slip out of her arms. “That bastard! He swore he wasn’t involved. I could see that you didn’t care for Frankie!”
“Mom.” I try to stop her, because I hear Guilia walking down the stairs. “Mom, calm down.”
“No, Chi. I will not calm down. I’ll cut that bastard’s dick off if he even thinks of marrying her off to Dante.”
“Dante?” Guilia pipes up from the kitchen.
I hold my breath. “Mom, shhhh…” I murmur.
She stops, and turns toward the doorway. “It’s okay, Guilia. Do you want something sweetheart?”
Guilia’s grin is brighter and wider than I’ve ever seen when she walks toward us. How can a woman look that sweet? Her eyes are gray like our mom’s, and her hair is a mass of black curls against her pale skin. “Dante kissed me at Angie’s wedding,” she says happily, in a sing song voice. “And he’s kissed me since then, too.”
Mom and I stare at each other silently. I have no fucking idea what to say to her, or to my precious sister.
“Dante said he’s going to marry me, and we’re going to have a baby.”
“Oh, hell no. There’s no fucking way you’re marrying Dante, Guilia,” I spit out angrily. I’m still looking at Mom.
She nods, but her voice is firm when she says, “Language, Chi. We don’t say those words, do we Guilia?”
She shakes her head, her natural curls bouncing. “Dante’s cute, Chi. Cuter than Frankie. He said he likes me.” She smiles again, then skips off toward the kitchen.
“Where are your keys, Ma? I’m going to kill him,” I insist.
She digs them out of her jacket pocket and hands them to me. “Who first?”
“I’ll start with Frankie, I think. I can always murder Dad in his sleep.”
Her eyes twinkle as she kisses my cheek. “That’s my girl,” she says, before she opens the door for me.