Shadow Rider (46 page)

“I can't wait for our wedding.”

His phone chimed before she could respond. He knew by the ringtone that it was Lucia or Amo. He could feel Francesca's eyes on him as he talked on the phone, reassuring Lucia he would come. It was what he did, not what he wanted. When he snapped the phone closed, she let out a little sigh and shook her head.

“I was hoping you could stay home today, Stefano. I feel like we haven't been able to talk or spend time together, and this wedding . . .” She trailed off, and his heart jumped.

“I want to stay home with you,
bambina
,” Stefano said, “more than anything. I'd like a day for us as well. Just the two of us.” He stood up and pulled her to her feet, leaving the dishes for the maids. She would have to get used to that; if he wasn't mistaken, she'd probably gather them up the moment he was gone.

She smiled at him, that smile that always took his breath.
The one he'd always wait for. “Me, too. But I can tell from your tone it isn't going to be today.”

He shook his head, walking them into the great room. “No. Unfortunately. Lucia called and needs me to get over there. Nicoletta is having a difficult time believing we aren't some human trafficking ring, or worse, that Lucia and Amo are the real thing, wonderful good people, and she's going to get them killed by staying with them.”

“Oh no. I know what that feels like. It's the worst feeling ever. Of course you have to go.” She licked at her lower lip for a moment and then lifted her chin. “I could go with you. I want to meet her. Don't you think feeling as if she had a friend would help settle her?”

He detested disappointing her. And was she getting cold feet? Was that what this was about? He sank into the wide armchair and beckoned her with his finger. “Come here,
dolce cuore
.”

She hesitated, just for a second, but it was there. He was very good at seeing every detail. He'd been trained from the time he was two. All those years of having to describe everything he saw in rooms or outside. All those years of looking at people and having to describe them and every emotion that crossed their face. There was no way he would ever miss hesitation on his woman's part.

He pulled her onto his lap and locked his arms around her. “Relax, Francesca. You're upset about something and you need to tell me.”

“I'm not upset. I'm really not.”

It was a denial, but her eyes didn't meet his. She did settle into him, relaxing enough that he slid one hand up her back to the nape of her neck. He loved holding her like this. Close. Feeling her body melting into his as if they shared one skin.

“Tell me, Francesca.” That was a command, and if she didn't comply, he wasn't going to be responsible for any words slipping out of his mouth she didn't like. He'd been making an effort for her, although, he had to admit, he didn't always succeed.

“I'm just nervous, that's all. We haven't known each other for very long, and this life you lead is very overwhelming.”

He sighed. He knew once she thought about it, the idea of living outside the law was going to get to her. “Being a shadow rider is a responsibility I can't . . .” He broke off when she shook her head.

“It's not that, Stefano. It's the money.” She made the confession in a little rush. “All that money. Living in a hotel. Having bodyguards. The clothes. I don't know how to act the way you and Emme act. I'm not sophisticated and I can't handle the paparazzi on every street corner waiting to snap pictures of me. It makes me sick to my stomach to think I'm going to embarrass you or your family.”

“Fucking Eloisa.” He burst out with it, fury moving through him. “You overheard the shit she was throwing at me and it got to you.” So much for his resolve to not use foul language, but really, what the fuck? Why the hell would his own mother undermine his woman's confidence? He wanted to strangle Eloisa.

“Stefano. Really.”

That was her little prim-and-proper-schoolmarm voice and he fucking loved it. He thought it best to keep that knowledge to himself.

“Not really,
bella
. You know damn well she put that shit in your head. You could never embarrass my family or me. I'm marrying you because for me you're as perfect as a woman could possibly get. I don't give a flying fuck if the rest of the world doesn't see you the way I do. And neither does my family. You don't seem to get this, Francesca, but you're nearly as important to my siblings as you are to me.”

She raised her face and pressed it into his throat. “See? Right there is why it's important to spend time with you. You have a way of making me feel beautiful and confident.”

“Let me take care of this thing with Nicoletta. I want you to become her friend. Hell,
amore mio
, you're more her age than mine, but not right now. She's overwhelmed and needs to settle with just Lucia and Amo for now. I've called Taviano—
he stayed with her on the jet. I think she's feeling shame for all that happened to her. Apparently Benito Valdez actually raped her on more than one occasion. He was very brutal and he made certain she knew he would have her permanently. His obsession with her was worse than we first thought. She's terrified he'll find her and that Lucia and Amo will be hurt or killed. I've got a counselor and a doctor who will be looking in on her daily.”

“That poor girl. Thank God you and Taviano got her out of there.”

“You understand why we're limiting the people she's around for now. She's overwhelmed. I promise the next two we'll introduce to her will be you and Emme. Just a few new people at a time.”

Francesca sighed, and nodded her agreement. “That makes perfect sense, Stefano. Actually, it's best anyway. I would have been going for the wrong reasons. I do want to meet her and hopefully become friends with her, but I really wanted to go to be with you.”

“I'm sorry, Francesca.” He was disappointing her and that was the last thing he wanted.

“No, don't be. I'll be staying in today, so come back as soon as you can. Take Emilio and Enzo with you. They've been doing women things for the last few days and they're pouting. I'll be safe here in the penthouse.”

He threw back his head and laughed. She could do that so easily, make him smile. Make him laugh. His arms tightened around her and he nuzzled her neck. “The idea of Emilio in a dress shop or shopping for china is hysterical. I should have asked you and Emme to take pictures or a video of his face.”

Her laughter joined his. “The expression on his face was priceless. In all honesty, Emme and I worked really hard to come up with a dozen places the boys would have to go with us, just so we could see that look on their faces. Enzo was just as bad, if not worse. They looked like a couple of bulls going to their doom.”

“I can imagine the places Emme decided to make them accompany you.”

“We hit every single sexy lingerie store close to us. Emilio and Enzo did a lot of groaning. They were quite the hit in a couple of stores. At one of them, two women insisted on coming out of the dressing room in their sexy getups and asking the boys their opinions. I swear we didn't pay them to do that, but Emilio and Enzo think we did.”

“Emme probably did behind your back. It's something she would do. She was always getting the two of them. She likes to get back at all of us for being what she calls ‘overprotective.'”

Francesca laughed at him, her arms circling his neck. “Stefano, you know full well all of you are overprotective of Emme. You probably made her teenage years a nightmare.”

“Ha. She made our lives a nightmare when she was a teen. She's a rider,
bambina
. That means she could get out of her room whenever the mood struck her. On top of that she's a little on the wild side.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “Emmanuelle is wild? I don't think so. You don't see her picture splashed in every magazine with two women hanging on her arm. That's Ricco and your brothers.”

“If she had two men hanging on her arm”—Stefano couldn't keep the menace or the grim out of his voice—“they'd find those same men in the morgue the next day.”

“That is
so
not fair,” she declared. “You really are chauvinistic.”

“That's right,” he said without apology. “Keep that in mind when we have a daughter. You might want to warn her.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I'm sure she'll figure it out very quickly. With you for a father and her four uncles as well as cousins everywhere, she'll most likely know it by the time she's three.”

“You certain you aren't going anywhere today? No fittings for your wedding dress? No looking at cakes or flowers?”

“No.”

Francesca was decisive about it, so much so that he had a hard time not laughing. She wasn't thrilled with all that making wedding plans entailed, especially on the scale Eloisa and Emmanuelle were making them. There was no point in fighting his mother and sister for control of the wedding, not even for his woman.

“Emmanuelle said she'd drop by and check on Theresa Vitale today, see if she needs more soup, or anything at all in the way of medicine. I think she's on the mend, but even with her grandson watching over her, we decided not to take chances. With Emme taking care of that, I don't have a thing to do but veg out.”

“All right,
dolce cuore
, I won't be gone too long. I'll take Emilio and Enzo with me and we'll drop by the office to collect everything I need on the way back so I can work from here for a couple of days.”

“I'd love that,” she agreed instantly.

Stefano changed to his three-piece suit, standard wear when outside his home. It was a drawback at times being a rider and always wearing the suit, as classy as it was. Wearing it meant he could disappear at any time into the shadows, but it also meant he was overdressed on occasion.

“Walk me to the elevator, Francesca.”

Francesca reached up to straighten his tie, leaning her body into his. “Don't be long, but make certain Nicoletta feels safe, Stefano. You did that for me—even when I was a little afraid of you, you managed to make me feel safe.”

He kissed her thoroughly. “I'm really sorry I have to go,” he repeated.

“It's for a good cause.” She wrapped her arm around him as they walked together toward the elevator. “Are Emilio and Enzo waiting for you downstairs?”

“Yes, I texted them. I'll be safe. Don't worry.”

Francesca took a deep breath and nodded, watching as the elevator doors closed and she was alone again. She really didn't want him to go. She'd felt strange the last couple of
days without him. The wedding preparations had become extravagant as far as she was concerned. Neither Eloisa nor Emmanuelle seemed to know how to put the brakes on when it came to the wedding, not even when she objected to things. She had envisioned a very small wedding, with just his family. She didn't have any family of her own, but suddenly there were tons of aunts and uncles who had to be invited as well as cousins. First cousins. Second cousins. And then there were the people in the neighborhood. She had wanted to talk to Stefano about it, but he was so exhausted when he'd first gotten home and then they were all over each other. Now he was gone again.

She sighed again and found her way back to the sunroom to collect the dishes off of the balcony. She liked the penthouse, but living in a hotel wasn't really her idea of a home. She'd seen his “office.” It was inside the family home. His family home was extremely intimidating. It was a huge estate, even by Chicago's elite standards. Just the front door was intimidating. It was thick and wide and painted a violent red. It should have been ugly, but instead, it managed to be elegant, just like the Ferraro family.

She stood for a long time staring out over the city. The family as a whole had many respected businesses. Each business was legitimate and made them millions, some more than millions. Still, the one small branch of the family—the shadow riders—wasn't at all legitimate; in fact, their activities would be considered criminal. Within the family they were almost revered. Outside the family many people, just as she had, assumed they were part of a crime family. She was one of them. Or she would be in a couple of short weeks.

Her phone went off, a musical melody that told her Emmanuelle was calling. She sighed, considering not answering. She didn't want one more discussion of flowers or cake. Still, she liked Stefano's sister a lot, and truthfully, it was nice to have someone be excited about the wedding and seeing to all the details.

“Hey, girl, what's up?” she greeted.

“I'm on my way to see Signora Vitale. Then I'm heading to the family home. I've been summoned by Eloisa.” Her voice changed from annoyance to speculation. “She sounded . . . upset. She never sounds that way. In any case, I had planned to come to see you today to discuss music, but Stefano called and said you needed the day off.”

Francesca realized there was a question in there. “Yes. I'm sorry. I do. I'm just going to rest and read and try not to think too much about everything happening so fast.”

“Bridal jitters. They say it happens to everyone.” Emmanuelle laughed as she hung up.

Maybe she was right and the restless feeling that just wouldn't leave her alone was just that—cold feet. After all, committing a lifetime to a man like Stefano was a little daunting. She would always have to work to stand up to him. That crazy protective side of him would be difficult. He'd want to build a fortress around her and their children. She was well aware that she would have to temper that quality in him for all their sakes.

Francesca took a deep breath and let it out, sweeping her hair back from her face. She'd dressed in a pair of vintage blue jeans. They were soft and molded to her body nicely, but were very comfortable. They weren't from a thrift store and she didn't want to know what Stefano had paid for them. It seemed like her clothes multiplied on a daily basis. She never saw him put things in her drawers or hang them in her closet, but she was fairly certain Stefano had someone shopping for her.