Shadow Rider (38 page)

She swallowed hard. There it was. The “rider” business. Something about what his mother said was the truth, although she heard the ring of honesty in his voice.

“Did I notice you because you're a rider?” he continued. “Of course I did,
dolce cuore
—how could I not when so few come our way? But once we connected, once I was that close to you, I knew.”

She stepped closer to him, her hands going inside his jacket and under his vest to clutch his shirt. She wanted to touch bare skin, to be absorbed by him. Melt right into him. Since that wasn't an option, she settled for curling her fingers into his shirt and feeling the heat coming off of him. There was a lot of heat.

“Are you going to explain to me what a rider is?”

Stefano lifted his head, his hands sliding from her face reluctantly. He turned her toward the bench, and Francesca sank down onto the wrought iron. It was cold until he sat beside her and pulled her into his arms. He liked being close to her. He insisted on touching her when he was close. She liked that. A. Lot.

“Once I tell you that, there's no going back from it. Eloisa was . . . indiscreet. You should never have heard that term.”

“You have a lot of secrets,” Francesca observed.

He was silent, something scary working in the depths of his eyes. “Does that scare you?”

“Everything about you scares me, Stefano, but that doesn't
seem to matter. I'm still here. I would have worked this out on my own.”

“You work things out with me,” Stefano said firmly. “It has to be that way,” he added hastily when she stirred in protest. “Once you know all the secrets, they have to remain secrets. There's no talking to Joanna or anyone else other than immediate family. We're close for a reason. We depend on one another. We have to. Can you accept that, Francesca?”

“I want a family, Stefano, and I like how yours is so close, so yes, that's an easy one to accept.”

The tension hadn't left his body. She could feel it there, coiled and ready to strike to protect him. But from what? Her? Stefano suddenly shifted, one arm going under her knees, the other around her back. He lifted her easily and sat her on his lap, his arms circling her. She recognized the move as aggressive—claiming—rather than sweet. Her heart began to pound.

“In our family it is necessary for someone like me to produce children if at all possible. Those children have to be created with another person like me.”

“A rider.” She supplied the term he was so reluctant to use.

He nodded. “Yes. Another rider. When I said
children
plural, I mean we would have to try for a large family.” He sighed. “I don't know who I'm kidding. I
want
a large family, and I want my wife staying home and taking care of them. I want her to get up with me in the middle of the night and change their diapers and feed them. I want her to shower our children with love every minute of the day. I want her to be strong enough to stand up to me and balance my need to keep them all safe.”

She understood the tension in him. He'd never had that—not what he wanted for his children. Francesca slid her hand up his chest to stroke the tension from his hard jaw. “Honey, I grew up in a house filled with love. I want nothing less for our children. I don't want someone else raising them. I want family picnics and laughter and trips to the beach that cover all of us in sand that we drag back to our car.”

“You'll stay home with them?”

She laughed softly. “And be a kept woman? Seriously, Stefano.”

“You'll be my wife. The mother of my children. That means you'll be the heart in our home. Not kept, Francesca, important. The most important of all. I grew up being both mother and father to my siblings. I saw what I wanted for them and for my own children when I visited my aunts and uncles. There was love in their homes. Our children will have to train as I did, but that should be balanced out with love and acceptance. With the ability to recognize each child as an individual with different needs.”

She fell in love just a little bit more. How could she not? She heard the longing and need in his voice. He was baring his soul to her. Laying himself on the line. Whatever a “rider” was, it was unimportant next to what he was revealing to her. That was work; this was about his heart and soul. He was giving her that. Stripping himself bare so she knew exactly what he wanted and needed in his life.

“I have to know if that appeals to you, Francesca. I don't want to lose you. I want to give you the world, anything you want. At the same time, you need to know the things most important to me. Our family. You. Me. Our children and my siblings. You'll be the heart for them as well. Can you do that? Am I asking too much of you?”

She heard uncertainty for the first time in his voice. Her man. Strong. Invincible. Arrogant even. Yet he was uncertain when it came to her. He was asking for a home filled with love for his children. For him. For his sister and brothers. Asking if she would be right at the center of that. She knew that position would also put her in charge of the neighborhood, the people he obviously loved and considered under his protection. He would give her those people as well.

“I love you, Stefano. I want to be the mother of your children. I wouldn't know any other way of parenting than to show them as much love as possible. I'll certainly insist on raising them with you. I've worked since I was thirteen years old. I'm
not certain I would know how to stay home, but I imagine having multiple children is work in itself. So, yes, I love your idea of a home and family and I am certainly on board with it. However”—she turned his face toward hers and looked him in the eye—“there will be no more telling my boss I'm not working, or telling Emilio and Enzo to bring me home.”

He leaned that two inches separating them and brushed kisses from her cheekbone to her chin. “Can't promise that,
amore
. You run away from me like that and I lose my mind. I forget everything but the need to get you back.”

She burst out laughing, she couldn't help it. She didn't want to encourage him, but he was just too funny. “You're impossible.”

“But very much in love with you, Francesca,” he said, framing her face with his hands, looking into her eyes. “I'm so in love with you I can't even breathe without you. I know absolutely, I was born to be your man. Our shadows connected and that truth was there for both of us to see.”

It was a beautiful declaration and her eyes burned with reaction. Stark. Raw. He meant every word. She even knew what he meant by their shadows connecting. She'd felt that jolt of urgent chemistry and the rightness of Stefano Ferraro. She often felt emotion when her shadow connected with someone else's, but she'd never felt such a physical and emotional connection as she had when her shadow touched his.

Although he was incredibly possessive and always stating in no uncertain terms that she belonged to him, he hadn't said she was born to be his woman. He had said he was born to be her man. For some reason those words touched her as nothing else could have. She took a breath and let it out. She wanted everything he was offering, no matter how controlling and obsessive he was. No matter how secret their family life would have to be or what a “rider” was.

“I can live with all of it, Stefano, because I suspect I just might have been born for you.”

He dropped his chin to the top of her head and just held her in his arms for a long while. She watched the people
moving around the park. A few joggers. A couple strolling hand and hand. It was cold and when she shivered, Stefano put her on her feet.

“Let's go home,
bella
. We can spend the day together. Maybe ask the siblings over for dinner tonight. But I just want a restful day. Eloisa always wears me out.” He stood up, locked his arm around her waist and began walking back toward the entrance. Emilio followed them. Enzo was nowhere to be found.

Francesca gave an exaggerated sigh. “I don't know about that woman as a mother-in-law, Stefano. She doesn't like me. At. All. In fact, she said she was friends with Barry Anthon's parents.” She tried to hide the anxiety in her voice, but she was fairly certain he heard it anyway.

“Don't worry about Eloisa,” he assured. “First of all, she isn't anyone's friend outside the family. She's close to her sisters and brothers, but no one else. She doesn't let anyone in. She might know Barry's mother, but she doesn't like her. Margaret Anthon is a society queen. Eloisa, for all her faults, can't take that kind of snobbery. Margaret doesn't touch a single charity unless there's something big in it for her.”

“That's a little sad. About your mother, I mean,” Francesca pointed out. “That she doesn't have friends. What about Emmanuelle? Surely she's friends with her daughter?”

He shook his head. The car waited at the entrance to the park, Enzo in the driver's seat. Stefano opened the back passenger door for her. Francesca slid onto the cool leather seat, scooting over to make room for her fiancé. Emilio slipped into the front seat.

Stefano shook his head. “Not Emmanuelle. If anything she was nearly as bad with Emme as she was with Ettore. She was incredibly hard on both of them. We all tried to shield them, but during training, we had no real say at all. Emme doesn't ever talk about it, but she keeps her distance from Eloisa and Phillip the way we all do.”

There was pain in his voice, and Francesca immediately threaded her fingers through his and brought his hand to her
mouth, kissing his knuckles. “Honey, you did your best. Emmanuelle's happy. She loves you and her brothers and cousins. I think she's amazing. You did a good job with her.”

“She is pretty amazing,” Stefano agreed, pulling her hand to his thigh and holding it there over his solid muscle. “I'm very proud of her. She doesn't have a mean bone in her body, but she can be steel when she needs to be.”

“She can fight, too,” Francesca said. “You'll have to teach me. She wiped up the floor with the three bimbos.”

He raised his eyebrow.

She scowled at him. “Don't pretend you don't remember your three exes. Janice. Doreen. Stella. The horrible threesome with a penchant for doing coke in a bathroom.”

“Ah. Them.”

“They pled guilty to possession with intent to sell. They have access to high-priced lawyers and yet they took a plea deal. That didn't make sense. They have a good career going . . .”

He shook his head. “They'd been doing more partying than recording, and their last tour was a disaster. Stella was so drunk she fell off the stage, and Janice OD'd right after. The PR people had a nightmare trying to cover that up. Their excesses made them a terrible liability for their label. This last stunt put them over the edge and the label dropped them. Their career is gone.”

“Did you have something to do with them losing their label?”

He shrugged. “No one fucks with my woman.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “They were arrested and received a hefty sentence.”

He shrugged again and she sighed. She couldn't actually feel sorry for the three women, especially since they'd tried to shove cocaine in her face.

“Emmanuelle beat the crap out of them and didn't even break a fingernail, and she did it when she was in high heels.”

He burst out laughing. “You sound admiring. I'll teach you a few moves,
bambina
, but you'll have bodyguards from
now on, even when you go to a restroom. I have a female cousin or two trained in security.”

“Of course you do.” She rolled her eyes. “Emilio and Enzo have a sister, do they?”

He nodded. “Enrica. I've already asked her to come on board.”

“Did you think you might want to consult with me first?”

“I told you, I don't argue. You like that shit and I'm just not going there with you when something needs to be done, like hiring a female bodyguard to watch you everywhere.”

“So Emilio and Enzo can go back to looking out for you?” Her tone was just a little shy of challenging him, but she had faith in Emilio and Enzo and wanted them looking out for Stefano, not her.

Stefano laughed again, the notes warm and alluring. The sound washed over her like the sun, bright and warm. She didn't hear him laugh nearly enough and it was disarming. At the hotel, Emilio opened the door for them and Stefano slid out, retaining possession of her hand so that she followed him out of the vehicle and was drawn close. She realized Stefano always did that. He liked her close. She found herself smiling in spite of the fact that he hadn't answered.

In the privacy of the elevator, she leaned into him. “Will your mother call Barry Anthon and tell him where I am? Or ask him questions about me?”

His eyebrow shot up. “You're my fiancée. You have my ring on your finger and I told her in no uncertain terms that we would be married as soon as possible. She understands that, whether or not she agrees or likes it. That makes you family.”

“I'm confused, Stefano. She really didn't like me. Won't she try to find a way to stop us from being married? Barry would be her perfect solution.”

The doors opened and they stepped into the apartment. “It doesn't work that way, Francesca. Not in our family. Family is family. You protect your family. Close ranks around them. My mother is all about family to the extent of
everything else. She would never betray you to Barry Anthon or anyone else. It just isn't done.”

She tried to grasp what that meant. The enormity of it. His mother had been so adamant. Clearly, mother and son had major issues. Still, he was absolutely certain she wouldn't call Barry or his mother. “I don't . . .” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Stefano stopped abruptly and tipped her chin up to his. “She would protect you. Physically protect you. Step in front of you if a bullet headed your way. As long as my claim is on you, any one of my family would do so.”