It was seven days after the “walking in the rain” incident. The rain continued with brief lulls of sunshine, but there’d been plenty of opportunities for the activity in contention. Every day Luca suggested it, but if I couldn’t be honest about my geeky alter ego, I could be honest at least about how I felt about his token gesture.
Today he asked me again since we were leaving for Chicago the next day.
I forced a smile. It was a small one, probably still tinged with hurt, but I said, “You know you don’t want to.”
“I’m trying here, Natalya.” He pinched between his brows.
I shrugged. “Maybe next time we come back?”
“That might take a while. There’s a lot going on in Chicago.”
“Then maybe we should have cut short our honeymoon and returned sooner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. What we’re building here is far more important.”
“Building here? You mean us?”
He looked further irritated. “The merger between our two families. That’s what.”
I shouldn’t be hurt. Ours was an arranged marriage to strengthen the alliance between our families. Our honeymoon in Paris was so magical, but in the last week I had been feeling anxious.
Ever since I found out that he told the men about my romantic whim, things never went back to normal. A wariness sprung up between us. We were like opponents circling each other, but I knew what was bothering me the most.
I’d fallen in love with my husband, and I wasn’t sure if he loved me back.
Sometimes I saw love in his eyes.
Sometimes I thought I’d imagined it.
And how could I forget that flash of contempt I saw in the restaurant?
So yes, things weren’t back to normal because I didn’t know what our normal would be after we returned to the United States.
But I was determined to make this work. Luca was known in the underworld as a silver-tongued devil who could charm a snake, as well as cut off its head in the same breath. I was a recipient of that charm, and married to that power, and I needed to return his cutting replies with understanding. I was a don’s wife. I couldn’t distract him with my petulance, especially when he had a lot to deal with.
I stepped into his space and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Well, then after? Paris will always be here. It’s not going anywhere. And maybe…” I smiled impishly. “You’d be so in love with me then, you’d be begging me to indulge you.”
His eyes gleamed predatory, making me shiver. I loved those primal displays because they usually led to him fucking me senseless and owning me with his body. The hint of it disappeared to be replaced by tenderness. I was getting used to my husband’s mercurial moods. No wonder his enemies were wary of him, and I couldn’t believe Carmine wasn’t aware of this when he could read people well.
Luca caressed my cheek gently. “I’m sorry, tesoro. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” He locked me in an embrace, his hands lowering to my ass, fingers digging into my butt cheeks to lift me up against him. “Tell me how to make it up to you.”
We could easily have sex again. I was sure that was the tension I felt radiating from him. And as much as I loved having sex with my husband, and the many ways he brought me pleasure, I loved nothing more than just sitting beside him and watching one of my romantic movies. I had the perfect one in mind.
“Have you ever watched Casablanca?”
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do on our last night?” There was an indulgent, almost puzzled look on his face, so despite the hardness growing against my belly, sex wasn’t all my husband wanted either.
“And for you to make me hot chocolate.” I played with the collar of his dress shirt.
He lowered me to my feet. “You’ve been eating a lot of sweets lately.”
“Yes…”
“It’s been a week since you missed your period.”
“Oh, you’ve been counting?” I teased. I knew it because he’d already bought the pregnancy tests.
“Yes, I have, and I’m very sure I’ve successfully made you pregnant.”
“What if it’s not a boy? Will you be disappointed?”
“Then we’ll try again.” He grinned devilishly. “You enjoy the process as much as I do.”
I laughed. “Yes, I do, but before we end up doing something else, you owe me a movie.”
Two hours later, Luca was making commentary on Humphrey Bogart’s character, Rick.
“He made the wrong choice.”
“Right?” Tucked contentedly to his side, I finished my hot chocolate even before the movie started and I had Luca make me a big bowl of popcorn. “But then, if it were a happy ending, it wouldn’t be a classic.”
Luca leaned forward to grab his beer, emitting a brief chuckle. He was eating the leftover boeuf bourguignon I made the other day. The drapes of the picture window were open to the Paris landscape—a partial view of the Eiffel Tower, gray skies, a light drizzle, and the haunting fog were the perfect backdrop for enjoying the acclaimed black-and-white film.
“So would you have made the same decision as Rick?”
“That’s a loaded question, tesoro, but I certainly wouldn’t be leaving a woman who looked like Ingrid Bergman behind to the other man.”
As the end credits rolled by, I snuggled back into him when he sat back. “If you were Rick, what would you have done?”
He glanced down at me with amusement. “I think you forget I’m not an honorable man.”
“So you will not let me leave with another man?”
“Let me answer this correctly,” he said. “Because I do not want to sleep on the couch on our last night in Paris.”
I laughed. “It’s a simple question.”
“No, it’s not,” he shot back. “For starters, the situation is different. And like you said, it wouldn’t be a classic if Rick left with Ilsa and left that poor schmuck of a husband behind.”
“He had an honorable cause.”
“And I’m not honorable, so at face value, if I were Rick, I would have left with Ilsa and abandoned what’s-his-name to deal with his cause. And I would have had no guilt.”
“Not even a little?” I pulled away so I could take in his expression more clearly.
He tipped his beer bottle at the TV screen. “In most movies, I’d be considered the villain.”
“Or an antihero. If you look at the top films of the AFI, The Godfather is one of them,” I said. “The most interesting people are faced with moral choices and they are faced with doing the right thing.”
Luca smiled at me faintly and brushed the hair out of my eyes. “I hate to disappoint you, baby, but I don’t care whether or not I do the right thing.”
“You give yourself so little credit,” I said. “How can I forget you saved me from Santino and Frankie?”
“And I used my niece to do it.” A hardened edge entered his voice.
My gaze dropped to my hands, remembering how Sera had almost died. “I’m surprised she doesn’t resent me.” I looked up. “I’m surprised you don’t resent me.”
A wry smile curved his mouth. I couldn’t tell if it was one of regret or one of resignation. “The end justifies the means.”
It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for and I couldn’t find the right words to say.
Luca tipped my chin up. “Let’s do that pregnancy test.”
A puff of laughter escaped me. “Why are you so keen on getting me pregnant? We’ve got all the time in the world.”
“No, we don’t,” he said. “Remember what awaits us in Chicago.”
I wasn’t suggesting again that we should have returned sooner. Anxiety and its best friend doubt planted an enormous seed of mindfuckery in my gut. But in my gut also sprung hope. Luca must care for me. There were things he didn’t have to do like watch endless romance movies with me, and how could I forget how he paid attention to which chocolates I liked? A child would bring us closer. He loved his niece. Surely he’d love his own baby and the mother of his child.
“Of course.” I pressed my lips against his. “Now let’s see if all your hard work paid off.”
