Page 116 of Love Without Control

He waved his hand. “Nah, you two go do… whatever it is married people do.”

A wicked grin spread over my lips, and I waggled my eyebrows at my brother-in-law. “Oh, you’d be surprised at—”

The rest of my teasing statement was muffled when Dane covered my mouth with his palm and chuckled. “That’s not for my brother’s ears, Wildcat,” he informed me before saying, “Later, Fi. Keep us updated when you can.”

With the press of his finger, he disconnected the call and pulled me closer. I swiveled until I was straddling him on the cushy taupe couch in our hotel room. But his normally direct gaze lingered somewhere around my chin.

“What’s wrong? This is good news, isn’t it? We might be able to go home if Luca goes to jail.”

His brown eyes finally met mine, and I read the conflict there. “You’ll be able to go back, E, but I’m not sure about me.” My heart sank at his words. “When you reappear, Luca will suspect I’m alive too. I’m sure there will be media coverage out the ass, and even with how different I look now, he’ll know it’s me when photographers inevitably take photos of us. Even from inside prison walls, he’ll still wield his power.”

“And he’ll come after you,” I stated, and Dane nodded.

“Neither of us will be safe if I’m with you.”

I leaned forward and rested my forehead to his. “Let’s not think about that right now. Like Fiero said, it will probably be a while before this goes to trial, so we have time to formulate a plan. I won’t go back without you.”

I was shocked at how easily that last sentence fell from my lips. All I’d wanted for the past eight years was to get back to my family, but now… Now I knew I couldn’t live without the man who wrapped his arms around my waist and jerked me close until my chest was flush with his.

“I want you to be with your family, Eden. I want that so much for you.”

Cupping his face with my hands, I pressed a soft kiss to his pillowy lips. “You are part of my family now. You’re my husband.” Our eyes held, and I let him read the truth of every word before kissing him again. “Now let’s go enjoy this beautiful city together.”

April in Treviso was beautiful, the weather a comfortable sixty-seven degrees. I was dressed in a sky-blue maxi dress and a downy white cardigan since some of the more historical tourist spots required “modest attire” for women. Dane was in jeans and a long-sleeved black T-shirt that was just tight enough to hint at the muscular physique beneath.

We’d hit a couple museums yesterday, but today, our trek was aimless and unscripted. We ate gelato and walked along the cobblestone streets, admiring the beautiful frescoes and architecture.

A few hours into our wandering, a few droplets of rain dotted the stone beneath our feet and tapped our heads and shoulders.

“Guess we should get back to the hotel,” Dane said, stopping to look up at the graying sky.

“A little rain never hurt anyone,” I said, lifting my chin to allow a few splatters to splash onto my face.

“Tell that to flood victims,” he smarted, and I giggled.

“It’s only a sprinkle, and besides, I like the rain. It’s cleansing, like a renewal of your soul. In fact, to some, rain is considered good luck.”

Dane laughed and twirled me in a circle beneath his arm before tugging me close. He looked so much younger than his thirty-three years when he just let go and had fun. I had just turned twenty-seven the month before, though since Robert had fudged our ages eight years ago, our IDs and paperwork listed Dane as thirty-five and me as thirty. My husband liked to joke that those were our ages in “Dane and Eden years,” similar to the concept of “dog years.”

“I’m sure you have examples in that brilliant mind of yours,” he said, his tone a lilting inquisition.

“Mmm, I’m sure I do.”

He brushed his lips across mine and swiped a damp strand of hair from my forehead. “Enlighten me, Wildcat.”

I was a bit love-drunk from the way he was holding me, touching me, looking at me like I was his world, but my brain managed to remember something I’d heard once.

“Let’s see… in Hindu culture, they believe marriage is like a knot, so rain on your wedding day is supposed to make the marriage stronger because a wet knot is harder to untie.”

The smile faded from Dane’s face, replaced by a narrowing of his eyebrows. “I should have given you a real wedding.”

“What?” I laughed. “No. Totally not necessary.”

But he was fixated on something behind me, and a second later, he grabbed my hand and took off at a jog—pulling me behind him—toward a large white building with Corinthian columns. The church of Sant ‘Agnese.

“Dane, what are we doing?” I hissed as we trotted up the short stairs.

“Getting married,” he said, wiping his feet against the concrete, and I followed suit. Then he pushed open the large, brown wooden doors, and we entered the old church. The air instantly changed, the sweet smell of incense melding with a peace that relaxed the senses.

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