Page 8 of Clash of Sin and Secret

Francesco and Da deserve their moment to be remembered properly. Not that they’ve been forgotten in any way. I can’t get through a minute in the day without thinking of them.

It’s been bittersweet to be back. This is my home, but every inch of the royal residence stirs up memories of me with Da, with Francesco, and with Zane.

The four of us were a family for two decades and the grief of losing our fathers seeps from the walls, the floors, and every piece of furniture. Still, it’s nice to be home. To be close to them. To spend time with Zane.

And so, with everything we’ve had to deal with since I got back, I called a time-out on my hostilities.

Zane hurt me. He knows it. I know it. Nothing he can say or do can change it, so there’s no benefit in fighting when both of our hearts are already broken.

I meet his weary gaze across the table and the shadows under his eyes speak volumes. He’s tired—physically and emotionally drained.

“We should all turn in early tonight,” I suggest. “You look like you could use some rest.”

Zane rises from his seat at the dining room table and sets his linen napkin on the table. “Not in the cards for me tonight, Scots. If you two will excuse me, I have a mountain of work to catch up on.”

“Can’t it wait?” I ask.

“Not according to my advisors, no.”

I sigh, wishing I could do more to help. The weight of the crown is his. The responsibility of running Vasari Industries is his. The only thing I have a hand in is the right of vengeance—that belongs to both of us.

“Good night, Zane,” Tucker says.

“Night, Z.” I watch him go, my gaze following him to the entrance of Francesco’s office—nope—Zane’s office waits down the hall.

Zane disappears behind the heavy mahogany door, the soft click of the latch locking him away for an evening of corporate decision making and paperwork.

My heart aches for him. The pressure he’s under, and that he puts himself under, is incredible.

Tucker’s warm hand squeezes the top of my thigh under the table. “Ready to turn in, beautiful?”

I meet his whiskey-colored gaze and soak in the way his wavy brown hair frames his high cheekbones and chiseled jaw. He’s all kinds of sexy and having him focused on me brings a rush of warmth between my thighs. “Turn in to go to bed or to sleep? Yes, to the first one. No, to the second.”

His gaze dances playfully, and before I can blink, he scoops me out of my chair and throws me over his shoulder. A surprised laugh escapes me as he strides down the corridor to the family quarters Da and I shared.

When we get to the entrance, Tucker turns around so I can reach out and press my hand on the identification scanner. When the locks disengage, he swings the door open and then we’re inside my personal sanctuary.

The long strides of Tucker’s frame cut the distance from the door, through the sitting room, to my bedroom. The soft purple walls embrace us like twilight, and the gray silk drapes on my four-poster bed flutter as he sets me down on the mattress.

He lifts my foot, removing first one shoe, then the other. My socks follow as his strong hands massage my tired feet. “What are you in the mood for? Do you want to be ravaged or savored?”

I close my eyes and think about that. The weight of today’s memorial service is still heavy in my chest. “How about slow and sensual? I could use some TLC.”

Tucker pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and even in my melancholy, I admire the show. The man has abs for miles and that sinful muscled V…well, it’s pointing straight down to a luscious bulge in his dress pants.

Tucker unbuckles his belt, his pants, and lets the black slacks fall to the floor in a quiet thump. He goes commando, so he’s gloriously naked as he climbs onto the mattress, pulls the tie of the drapes, and encloses us in our own private world.

He gives me that gentle smile that makes my ovaries ache. “Slow and sensual, the lady says. I can do that.”

Tucker

From the moment Scottie burst into my father’s barbershop on the night of the attack, I knew. Broken and bleeding—yet fierce as hell—she stole the breath from my lungs.

My bear claimed her at first sight.

The man had a little more restraint, but not much.

And every moment I’ve spent with her, I’ve fallen a little more. A little deeper. A little harder.

---