Page 65 of The Billionaire's Pact

“Yes, that’s it,” he affirmed.

A hush fell over the crowd of thousands, and we all took in our collective breaths. The thick rope holding them back fell, and all the riders surged forward like a dam breaking, igniting a wave of excitement that swept through the spectators.

I wanted to watch the race, but I was also taken up by the group around me, screaming and cheering. The air was electric with anticipation, and the sound of the crowd was deafening. Mayor Louisa, who had her Giraffa red and white flag waving it in her hand, adding her voice to the many in the cacophony. Rocco had his fist in the air, yelling. “Go. Go. Go!”

He turned to me and squeezed my waist. “Isn’t this amazing?”

I lifted my arms. “It is. Yay!” I called out.

He laughed and kissed my cheek.

One jockey broke ahead, while another fell off his horse and rolled over to the barrier, just missing two other horses galloping wildly ahead with the riders swinging their whips.

I covered my eyes, but immediately dropped my hands to see, not wanting to miss what came next. In my head I knew the riders had on chest protectors, goggles, gloves, and a vest, but the danger was ever present, adding a thrilling edge to the race. The riders didn’t stop, but rode on fearlessly.

The lone horse continued turning the sharp corners, completing the first circle around the square with the other nine still racing. The pounding of hooves joined the crowd’s cries as they sailed past our balcony, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the pack.

I shouted above the crowd to Rocco. “What if the horse keeps going?”

“Then the horse wins the race, and that contrada wins the Palio.”

“I’m rooting for the horse,” I yelled.

He laughed and grabbed my hand.

I gasped as four riders caught up with the lone one in front. One horse slowed down and moved to a trot. Someone behind us burst into tears. It was a man lamenting the fall of his Contrada, now out of the race. Then, I understood there was a profound emotional connection to the race, a bond that united the spectators.

There were still seven riders circling the square. They moved like a streak of fire, and an image came to mind of the riders as lightning circling the earth as waves of light moved out. I was inspired and hoped to paint it one day soon. But we were now so close to the end. Two horses galloped neck and neck, but the one in red and white from Giraffa rushed forward crossing the finish line first. People left the square and poured onto the track surrounding the winner.

I turned to Rocco; he was almost like a little boy, roaring, jumping, dancing, and hugging the group on the balcony. I was just as caught up, allowing myself to be pulled into celebratory dances, cheek kisses, and hugs. Rocco pushed his way back to me and lifted me off my feet, hugging and kissing me hard. And I returned his kiss with just as much vigor. Our gazes stayed on each other as we broke apart. Neither one of us moving on.

An officer approached us and spoke in rapid Italian for us to join the group headed to the presentation.

We followed him and the other guests off the balcony to the next ceremony. It was the presentation by Major Louisa of the Drappellone, a beautiful piece of painted silk at the nearby church of the winning contrada. This year, it was Giraffa, with the red and white with a giraffe being held by a Mort on the flag. It was also Mayor Louisa’s neighborhood. She was as ecstatic and emotional as all her neighbors, with pride and joy on her face as she hugged and shook hands. To my surprise, we posed behind her for the pictures. My heart pounded as I stood beside Rocco, the emotional significance of the moment touched me deeply. The photographer recorded us in the city’s history, and the honor was tremendous, leaving me full of gratitude.

“Thank you so much for inviting us,” I said to Louisa. Rocco kissed her cheek, and she hugged him.

“It was a pleasure,” she said. “I will see you all again soon.”

We left and went out on the streets to join in the celebration. We were riding the river of the crowd. I was sure I would lose him with the smash of bodies around us. But Rocco pulled me in front of him and gripped my waist. Screams were so loud I couldn’t hear. I looked up at him and he was staring at me. My heart raced.

“La più bella delle città,” Rocco screamed along with the chant around us, that meant the most beautiful of cities. I was definitely captivated by Siena.

I repeated the chant, and he lifted my arms up.

He said close to my ear. “Let it out, Adelina. Scream.”

I let out a loud bellow.

Our hands were high as we moved around the circled square. Everything was heightened by the sound of the horns and drums pounding. And there was Rocco.

I turned my head, and found his eyes on me. He took my waist and weaved us out to the outskirts of the crowd, pushing us against a corner shop. My breath and pulse moved fast as he kissed me hard on the lips and down my neck. He moved back to my mouth. Oh, yes. I opened my lips. Give me more. His tongue pushed in hard. His hands moved over my breasts, my sides, and down to my ass. I moaned and clenched, pressing in against his hard body. We were in a crowd, but it all faded away, leaving just me and Rocco. With all the chaos and danger around us. We could get trampled. We may survive. Yet, all I wanted was to be in his arms. This was passion.

But just as sudden as he took me, he let me go.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I stared up at him, disheveled, heated, and uncertain. Why did he stop?

I straightened my dress as we both caught our breaths.

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