They stopped talking though, letting the whisper of their discarded clothing speak for them. Letting unhurried hands communicate what they were feeling, pressing meaning into skin with their lips. And, eventually, joining their bodies in the eternal language of love.
Rocco moved with slow care, drawing it out, keeping them in this state of celebrating each other with raptured sighs, ragged moans and the sweet struggle to avoid what they were both trying to attain.
When they were coated in perspiration and mindless with the joy of writhing together, his measured, masterful strokes shortened. His groan was helpless. She arrived at the peak and keened over it, caught in his hard grip as he tumbled with her, both of them abandoning themselves to exquisite surrender.
The next week was a return to the happiness they’d known so briefly before Silvio’s identity came out and Otto passed so suddenly. It was a contentment Mira wanted to believe was unshakable, but today would put it to the test.
They were on their way to Capri, to meet Silvio’s family.
She was curious enough about her half siblings to want to meet them, but utterly daunted by the idea of meeting Silvio’s wife. She’d spent most of her life punished by Otto for the affair that had conceived her. She didn’t want to be that proxy again.
She also knew how much Rocco valued his place in Silvio’s family. She feared that whatever happened today could make or break his relationship with them, and thus her relationship with him.
“I have already chosen you, Mirabella,” Rocco reminded her as he took the hand that wore the engagement ring he’d slipped back on her finger at the villa, warning her never to remove it again. “You know I would never take you anywhere that I thought you might get hurt. I will be right beside you. It will be okay. I promise.”
Mira was still filled with dread, bracing for her world to fall apart again.
They were meeting at Silvio and Claudina’s home, the villa Rocco had built so many years ago, he reminded her proudly when pointing it out from the helicopter. Silvio’s children had come without their spouses or children, keeping it less overwhelming, but Mira’s throat was still dry with apprehension when they landed.
A car was waiting and the drive was far too short. Mira didn’t get so much as a chip of nail polish picked off before Rocco was helping her from the car onto a cobblestone drive.
The front door of the villa flung open.
“They’re here!” a young woman cried in Italian. She was about Mira’s height and a few years younger. Her hair was cut in a short, masculine style and her smile was so big it was infectious. “Oh, my God! Look. We have the same nose.” She hugged Mira, then Rocco. “So much for Mama’s plan that you would marryme.”
“Simone,” Rocco informed Mira over the woman’s head. “She has a girlfriend and has never given me a second look.”
“I know we’re supposed to be angry with Papà, but once we got past the shock, we were all just so excited to have another sister— Oh, here’s Nadia.”
Another woman hurried out, smiling, and speaking a mix of English and Italian as she welcomed Mira with a warm hug.
A man closer to Rocco’s age stepped out to shake Rocco’s hand, then started to offer his hand to Mira.
“Ah, stuff it. Come here, mia sorella.” He wrapped her in a bear hug.
“Ernesto,” Rocco explained.
“Call me Ern. Where’s Vin?”
“Story of my life,” a young man Mira’s age complained as he joined them. “You send me for beer then go do something fun.” He also hugged Mira without asking.
Mira was beginning to feel like a squeeze toy, but couldn’t help smiling over it.
“We’re twins, you know,” Vin said. “Born on the same day, Mom said. Pops was shooting with a double barrel, I guess—”
“Vinny!” Nadia smacked his arm.
“What? Our sister from the same mister.”
“We can’t take him anywhere,” Nadia said with appalled laughter.
Mira chuckled, never expecting such an exuberant, playful welcome. She glanced at Rocco. His mouth twitched in a silentSee?
“Excuseme, Rocco,” Simone said with exaggerated outrage. “What isthis?” She snatched up Mira’s hand and goggled at the ring.
“That is a symbol of my affection,” Rocco replied mildly.
Ern whistled with admiration. “He affections the hell out of you, doesn’t he?”
