I broke eye contact because I felt unworthy of this man’s praise.
He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his hand over one of my ass cheeks before he squeezed it and slapped it. He stroked his hand down the small of my back as his fingers touched the silky material. Then he tugged his shirt over his head, revealing his muscled physique covered in dark ink, before he grabbed my hip and guided me onto my back so he could look at me from a different angle. One of his hands glided up my thigh then touched the soft material of my thong, his hungry eyes taking me in like a feast. “You’re beautiful, you know that?” He slid his hand to my bare stomach, his palm taking up nearly the entire thing.
“No…but you make me feel that way.”
His eyes held mine for a beat, nothing but raw seriousness in his gaze.
A long moment stretched between us, a sea of love that was deeper than the flesh. Then he rose off the bed, kicked off his shoes, and dropped his bottoms before he came back to me, moving over me as he separated my thighs with his knees and folded me into place.
He kissed my neck and my collarbone and my chest before he kissed the corner of my mouth. Then his hand went to my throat with a possessive squeeze, and he looked deep into my eyes before he kissed me.
Kissed me like he loved me.
27
FRANCESCA
Our weekend in Palermo passed in the blink of an eye. We tried a few new restaurants and spent most of the day on Saturday at the beach. Late on Sunday night, Wolfe drove us home, long after the tourist traffic had died down.
I hated that I had work in the morning, especially after leaving such a beautiful place by the sea. It made me treasure the week I’d spent with Wolfe there even more because I’d been truly disconnected from the world at the time. But now, work was in the back of my mind, haunting me.
I woke up to the sound of my alarm and saw that Wolfe was already gone, out of bed and working out in his gym downstairs. Half asleep, I stepped into the shower and got ready for the day. Then I made myself a cappuccino, downing it quickly before I headed to work.
When I arrived at my father’s villa, Leo wasn’t there, probably because he didn’t wake up until later in the day, whenever he decided to show up. The mornings were usually reserved for the wine business anyway.
A couple hours later, the winery was full of people, those there for the wine and others for the guns. Lots of people were working, and the painters were adding the final touches to the outside of the villa where my office was located.
I was working on my laptop in my temporary office when I heard a commotion outside that caught my attention. Men raised their voices, and others shouted. When someone shouted, “Vincenzo!” I knew it was serious.
I abandoned my laptop and ran to the window to stick my head outside. I was on the opposite side of the villa from the location of my first office, so I couldn’t see the main gate. I turned my head and could see the road over the wall and the clouds of dust, which told me several people had approached the iron gate.
I left my office and ran upstairs to my father’s office because I knew he was there since I’d just spoken to him ten minutes ago. “Dad.” I rounded the corner and came to a stop when I saw that he was already armed and guns were spread out on his desk.
I gave a jump when I heard gunfire from outside. “This can’t be happening again.”
“Frankie, come on,” he said. “Get over here.”
I rushed forward to the pile of guns he’d pulled out of the safe.
“Put this on.” He held out the bulletproof vest to me. He already had his on.
I stared at it and felt my heart race.
“Frankie.”
I snapped out of it and put it on, strapping it into place. The first thing I did was call Wolfe, but he answered so fast it barely rang. “Someone’s here?—”
“I’m on my way.” He somehow already knew. “Stay alive until I get to you.”
I wanted to sob on the phone because this was the third attack I’d experienced in just a few months. I couldn’t do it again. I couldn’t have another pile of corpses around me. I couldn’t let anyone come near me. I just…couldn’t do it again. But it wasn’t the time or place to say any of that.
Wolfe didn’t hang up on me. “Don’t forget who you are, Francesca Mancini. Say it.”
The words popped into my head, but I struggled to say them aloud.
“Come on.”
“I’m—I’m a tough…fucking bitch.”
