Out of the Dark (13 page)

Lucy is giggling so hard, she can’t speak.

“Say it!” When he reaches the foot of the stairs, he sets her down.

She has tears in her eyes from laughing.

“Can you please stop torturing my baby?”

The soft voice behind me causes me to turn.

The woman who steps onto the porch is a carbon copy of Lucy—big eyes, dark, wavy hair, rosy cheeks, and a soft smile. She has her hands on her hips as she scolds Enzo, but her sweetness cuts through her effort to be strict in any way.

“I’ll never surrender!” Lucy runs away again with the big, brown dog on her heels.

“Come back here, and say hello to Great Uncle Stefan!” The woman yells, but shakes her head with a dismissive yet tolerant smile. She extends her hand to me. “Well, we’re very rude, aren’t we? I’m Nora, Stefan’s niece. You must be Carina. Sorry for the commotion. Lorenzo and Lucy have been at this for hours.”

I shake her hand, and she kisses my cheek. Over her shoulder, I see Lorenzo wiping sweat from his brow. He’s staring at me.

“Nora, how I’ve missed you.” Stefan takes his niece into a deep and joyful embrace.

Enzo climbs the stairs toward me. His naked chest is pounding, and he glistens with sweat and takes several deep breaths as he calms down from the exertion of chasing after a five year old.

I read his tattoo—
In Vino Veritas
in an elaborate script—which is Latin for “In wine, there is truth.”

Stefan grabs his nephew, and they embrace. The look on his face is one of deep love.

“Welcome home, old man,” Enzo says with a wide smile before he faces me. “It’s good to see you again, Carina.”

“Same here.” My voice sounds all high and wobbly. I clear my throat. I’m trying not to stare at Enzo’s broad chest.

“Is that my brother?”

I hear the clicking of high heels running on a wood floor and turn to see who’s approaching.

The woman, who must be Stefan’s surviving sister, Gemma, bursts through the screen door the same way Enzo did and jumps into Stefan’s arms. “That’s the longest you’ve ever been away. Don’t do that again.” She squints as she holds her precious brother tight.

Gemma is petite and graceful with gray streaks in her hair. She’s dressed in more conservative attire than Nora and Enzo. They’re casual in jeans, and she’s in heels and a shift dress. Her outfit is similar to mine. Right away, I can tell she’s a woman of expensive tastes.

Stefan sets her down, and she hugs me.

“I’m so happy that my brother finally found someone! I was beginning to think the day would never come.” She lets me go and stands back to look at me, holding both of my hands. “Stefan, she is breathtaking.”

I blush from the attention.

“Stop fawning over her, Aunt Gemma. Can’t you see she’s embarrassed?” Enzo says.

“Oh, hush. I’ll fawn all I want.” She waves him away. “Come on. Let’s go inside.”

We sit down together in the living room filled with antique wooden furniture. The large couch looks comfortable and cozy. An intricate area rug matching the light shade of the upholstery lines the floor. There are silver picture frames everywhere filled with family memories, recent and ancient. Gemma and her daughter, Nora, sit on the floor huddled around Stefan’s feet like he’s Santa Claus. Enzo sits down on the love seat next to me. Stefan opens his bag and begins to take out gifts for each of them. I didn’t even know that he had them.

“I have a ton of Italian candy for Lucy when she returns and a pair of sneakers for Frank. Where is he by the way?” Stefan asks Nora.

“He ran to the market. He’ll be back soon.”

“Frank is Nora’s husband,” Enzo explains.

I look at him and nod.

He still has no shirt on, and it’s a bit distracting. I find that my eyes keep wandering to him. It’s only been a few weeks since he visited Savano Vineyard. I guess I sort of missed him.

“For my beautiful niece, I have two pairs of Louboutins. These are from the spring line. Impossible to find anywhere.”

Nora squeals and thanks him for her treasures.

“For my lovely sister, I have a diamond Versace watch. To make up for all the time that we’ve missed.”

Gemma kisses his cheek. “You’re forgiven.” Her eyes glaze over as she admires it.

“And, of course, I saved the best for last. For my dear nephew, I have a reserve, aged balsamic vinegar. Of the highest quality, of course. Nothing but the best for you, Lorenzo.”

It’s a simple gift, yet Enzo grabs it with enthusiasm. “Nice. I can’t wait to cook with it.” He smiles at the liquid gold Stefan bestowed upon him. Something only a person who loves to cook can appreciate. “Carina, you can help me with that, right?”

“Carina is a pastry chef, Lorenzo,” Stefan says.

“Yeah, but she’s also a great cook.” Enzo turns to me. “Now I won’t be the only one who has to slave away making meals for these fools.”

“Oh, shut up. You love it.” Nora walks through the living room in her new heels.

After some catching up and gift admiring, the room falls quiet.

Stefan sighs and stands. “Is she awake?”

“She was earlier today. She has good days and bad. I’ll take you up.” Enzo grabs a button down shirt from the back of an armchair.

Stefan takes my hand, and I follow him up the giant, creaky stairs.

The mood in the house goes from joy to sorrow. Enzo’s whole demeanor changes as his face hardens, and he leads us up another staircase to the top floor of the house. We walk down a narrow hallway to her bedroom. The door is ajar, and he nudges it open as he knocks.

Stefan’s face is somber as well, and I steel myself for what I’m sure will be unpleasant.

“Nonna?”

The woman in the bed is frail, but she has so much life in her face and in her eyes. Her smile is bright, and the wrinkles on her aged face multiply as she grins. “What’s with the long faces? I’m not dead, yet!”

I wasn’t expecting to laugh, but suddenly, I am.

Stefan’s mother is adorable. Her silver hair is tucked into a loose bun. She’s beautiful and must have been exquisite when she was younger.

“Oh, son. Come here, and hug your mother.” She raises her weak arms to Stefan.

I look around the room. It’s decorated with hundreds of small glass angel statues. Some are praying, some are singing, and some are weeping. They dominate every available shelf space. The scent of roses wafts into my nose, but there are no flowers in sight.

Stefan holds his mother for several silent moments.

I feel a jolt on my elbow and find that Enzo has touched me. He winks at me to relieve some of my anxiety, and I smile at his gesture.

“Mom, this is my fiancée, Carina.” Stefan beckons me closer.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Savano.” I take her paper-thin hand.

“Now, you just call me Estelle. Or Nonna. None of that formal
missus
business. You’re my family now, sweet thing. Oh, you are just like a ray of sunshine. I’m so happy to see you!” She kisses my hand.

Enzo plops down in the chair beside the bed and takes her other hand in his. “How are you feeling?” His eyes are fixed on her with intensity.

I know that look. It’s the same look I’ve always had for my mother. Limitless love. Devotion. Worry.

She reaches up and strokes Enzo’s cheek. When she looks at him, she blooms, like a dry plant getting watered. “I’m just perfect now that you’re here, my sweet, sweet boy.”

I stand next to Stefan. His face is blank as he stares at his mother and Enzo.

Chapter Nine

“She tires easily,” Enzo says, as we exit Nonna’s room. Solemn sadness has fallen back over us like a shadow.

Stefan clears his throat. “Lorenzo, now that I’m home, I’ll take some of this burden off of you.”

He looks at Stefan like he’s speaking a foreign language, like he’s an alien. “Caring for her is not a
burden
to me.”

Stefan clears his throat. “I’m going to show Carina to our room so she can get settled, and then I’ll give her a little tour of the house. We’ll see you at dinner.”

Enzo nods and smirks, and then he’s gone.

Stefan walks me down to the other end of the hallway, opens the door, and we enter an old office that seems as if it hasn’t been used in some time. A light sheen of dust has settled on almost everything.

“This was my father’s office. I use it for work when I’m here, but I’m the only one who ever comes in this room. Sometimes Lorenzo does, but he usually works out of his office at Cuore della Terra.”

“What’s Cuore della Terra?” I ask as I explore the office, running my hand over the oak desk.

“It means ‘Heart of the Land.’ It’s the wine bar we own on the southeastern half of our land here, near the road. Lorenzo manages it. It’s a popular location for locals and tourists who come through on wine tasting tours. It’s been very profitable. We feature our own wines there mainly.”

We walk through the office, and I peek through the gaps in the heavy, burgundy velvet curtains at the stunning view outside. I can see the whole vineyard and the mountains beyond from this height. Pale yellow dots the hillside as the leaves are beginning to change.

The office isn’t a large room, and the only real piece of furniture is the massive desk. A dusty black-and-white picture of Stefan’s parents when they were young sits by the window. His father is riding a bike, and his mother is perched on the back, holding onto his shoulders. They’re both laughing. It’s a beautiful photo.

“What was your father’s name?”

“Marco.” His eyes are on the picture as well. “Let’s go.”

We walk down one flight, and like the upstairs hall, there are rooms at each end. Two doors in the middle of the hall lead to a closet and a bathroom.

Stefan points to the room that’s below Nonna’s. “That’s Lorenzo’s bedroom,” he tells me, and then opens the door nearest us. “This is ours.”

Our room is below the upstairs office, and thus, has a similar view, which I’m ecstatic about. A four-poster wooden bed, two night tables, and two dressers are the only furniture. The room isn’t elaborate and luxurious like the one we shared at Savano Vineyard. It is cozier here, and I like it.

I sit down on the white comforter and stroke what looks like a handmade blanket that’s folded at the foot of the bed.

“What do you think?”

“It’s perfect. Really. It’s just perfect here.”

He smiles. “
You’re
perfect.”

The sun is beginning to go down, and the light in the room softens. It’s very romantic.

Maybe we can make a fresh start here.

Stefan stands with his arms folded across his chest, watching me.

He steps toward me. He doesn’t sit down on the bed with me but kneels before me.

He kisses my thighs, and I stroke his hair for a moment before my lust for him overtakes me, and I pull his shirt over his head and toss it to the side as he crawls on top of me. When my head hits the pillow, his lips touch mine and he presses his whole body against me. He is adoring and slow as we kiss.

I can feel his stress melting away.

He’s gentle as he slides my clothes from my body, and our kiss is deep and unrelenting.

My body heats, and I feel the ache between my legs become sharp and wanting. I wriggle beneath him, moving my hands down to his thick, smooth, hardness. I guide him inside me.

We both let out a long sigh as he sinks in as far as he can go.

He locks his eyes with mine as he moves. He bites his lip as he moves harder, but his gaze never leaves mine, and I have to fight the urge to close my eyes out of pleasure.

I wrap my arms around his neck and move my naked hips against his as his cool blue eyes stare into me.

His skin is hot, and he moves faster.

The bed begins to creak, and he smirks.

The creaks get louder.

Faster.

He grins and kisses me again, then my neck, my earlobe, my shoulder. He touches my breasts, and he envelops my nipple with his mouth.

My flesh tingles in response. I push back against him, wanting to feel him deeper.

The sound of the creaky bed gets louder, as do my moans of pleasure.

I bend my knees and wrap my legs around his waist. As I savor the feeling of him inside me, I see he’s struggling to hold back with each thrust. He’s on the verge and so am I.

As the waves begin to crash over me and my eyes water from the ecstasy, I release a deafening moan and the creaking bed joins me, sounding as though it will break any moment. “Oh, yes. God. Yes!”

He smiles as he watches my face, and my eyes roll shut.

After he climaxes, he lingers beside me, his damp body sticking sweetly to mine, and he buries his head in the pillow.

I run my fingernails up and down his back as we lay there in contented silence. It’s so quiet compared to how loud it just was, with our moaning and the bed creaking, and I get a hit of nerves as I wonder if someone might have heard us in this old house.