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He holds me to his chest, as hard and unyielding as a wall, a visceral reminder of his strength and fortitude. He’s everything I shouldn’t want, but I can’t help craving his inflexibility and strength. If I meant something to him… if I truly, honestly meant something to him, I’d be… safe.
Like I once was, before Piero was ripped from me. I swallow my pain and shove it back to the dark burial place in my mind.
Tavi kisses my cheek. It feels like betrayal. A soft, teasing, seductive betrayal.
“Then if you don’t like being punished, Elise, you’d better watch that mouth of yours.”
I nod, because I want to cry. I hate how little control I have in any of this.
To my surprise, he draws in a deep breath, as if imbibing my scent or gathering his strength. I don’t always understand him. Hell, I rarely understand him.
Without warning, he releases me and turns away.
Okay, that was intense.
“It doesn’t matter if you eat breakfast or not. It’s nearly lunchtime.”
Wait, lunchtime?
I stretch my arms up over my head, and don’t realize how far the T-shirt I wear travels until I see his hungry eyes on my ass. I quickly put my arms down.
“Do you have any workout equipment here?” I ask. Maybe if I bring us back to the mundane, we can ignore the sexual tension that coats us like velvet, deep and sensual. “I miss my morning workout. But after I get some movement in, I’d probably like some lunch, thank you.”
I think of simple, real things. Gardens and dresses, sunsets and boats. I won’t think of being dominated. I won’t think of the wedding night that looms in my future.
I won’t think of Piero.
“We have excellent staff here, or I can take you out to eat if you’d like.” The velvet curtain begins to rise.
I really have missed the food in Tuscany. Even though the Rossi family’s Nonna cooks beautifully, it isn’t the same without the Tuscan backdrop.
“We do, yes, and I’ll have an escort bring you down there, but not until I’ve gotten you proper workout gear. You’ll wait for tomorrow, then.”
I nod. Not a point to argue on.
“Then if you don’t mind, I’d like a shower, and can you assign someone to take me for a walk? I love walking outside this time of year.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “The coroner won’t be ready until three, so I can take you for a walk.”
Great. Another chance to be near him. Just what I didn’t want.
I’m staring out the window at the way the leaves gently dance in the wind and can almost feel the breeze on my bare skin, when I hear the bed gently creak under his weight. “Go get your bag, Elise. Do you remember where it was?”
My pulse races when he commands me, at the way edicts flow off his tongue with ease, a natural leader if ever there was one. I shake my head.
“Check the closet.”
I look around the large room to locate the closet. Wow, is it gorgeous here. The room is big and airy, especially for Tuscany. Even though I grew up wealthy, my family’s homes in Tuscany were small and fairly cramped compared to America. This room’s decorated in authentic, timeless, beautiful Tuscan style—rustic but elegant and feminine, a mixture of wood and white. From the arched doorway, I can see a sitting room, and in here, visible wooden beams above me, streaked white as if a painter thought to soften the harshness with casual strokes of his brush. A small desk sits in one corner with an ornate pillow-topped seat, and instead of overhead lighting, elegantly curved lampshades complete the look. White shelves built into the walls adorn either side of the bed.
I take this all in briefly, as I don’t think it smart to keep Tavi waiting.
The closet’s tucked far in the corner.
“Wow,” I say softly, as I walk to the closet. “This room is beautiful.”
He nods formally. “Thank you. I hope you like it. This will be one of the rooms you stay in until we’re married.”
Until we’re married.
My heart skips a beat. I swallow, my throat and mouth dry, either from travel or nerves or both. I’ll share a room and a bed with him after we take our vows, my thoughts turning to our wedding night and his dark promises of rough sex. I turn my head so he doesn’t see my heated cheeks and change the subject.
“Do you know if I still have family in Tuscany?”
I hate that I don’t know. I’ve been so removed from everything that mattered in my life before my escape with Piero. In my mind, there are only two seasons of my life I’ve lived—life before Piero and after.
He doesn’t answer at first. When I see my luggage in the closet, I tug the wheeled suitcase out.
