Page 130 of La Dolce Vita

It was too much. She turned her face from his. She panted for breath under the stream unable to concentrate on breathing. Only focused on the feelings. And there were plenty. His mouth against the back of her neck as he lubed his dick while she leaned forward with her hands pressed flat to the slippery tiles.

"I wish you would have told me about your grandfather, but it's okay, Bella. I accept you didn't."

She opened her mouth to speak. It would be hard. The shower covered her head, back, and neck. It dropped from her brow, her lashes, and nose. It ran in a long stream from her chin. She closed her eyes as he thrust into her anus and she stretched and stretched. Mirabella was pushed forward. Her longs nails scraped against the shower wall. Giovanni kept thrusting until she pitched so far he had to grab her hip to keep her steady. And then he slipped out. Mirabella exhaled a sigh of relief. She turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her to him and lifted her up against him. She kissed him with all the love and power with her. He turned her to the wall and pinned her there. Against the wall, he trailed his kisses from her mouth, neck to her nipples and lowered. She closed her eyes and let her husband remind her body what it meant to be his again.

Once she climaxed and cried out her submission, he let her go. He had bathed her and himself before he fucked her against the wall again. And the day was forgotten. Her mistakes and his. She slipped down into bliss.

***

Someone knocked on her door twice. Rosetta opened her eyes confused. She turned to her side to see her door open, and Catalina squinted in the dark. Rosetta closed her eyes and pretended at being sleep.

"Rosetta? Rosetta?" she whispered.

Pretending at waking, Rosetta sat up. "Who is it?"

"It's me, Catalina," her cousin said.

Rosetta reached for the lamp and turned on the light. She frowned. "Something wrong?"

"You need to pack. This afternoon we leave for Paris. We'll fly out of Florence. Don't worry about having the right clothes. I'll have you fitted when we land."

"Really?" Rosetta asked. She was unable to hide the excitement from her voice. Rosetta needed to be more poised. She placed her hand on her chest. "Designer clothes? For me."

"Yes, dummy. You'll be in front of the fashion world, the press, the company, you have to represent Mirabella.”

“Va bene, whatever you say,” Rosetta smiled.

Catalina turned to leave but stopped. She cast another look at Rosetta. There was something more she wanted to say, but couldn’t.

“Something wrong?” Rosetta asked.

“I... I'm going to need your help in Paris. Can I trust you?" Catalina asked.

"You can. I swear, Catalina. I swear it on my life! I don't want to fight with you. Not anymore. I only want my chance to be someone special, and to show the world..."

"Basta. I get it." Catalina waved off her words. "Here's your chance. And make no mistake if I find out I can't trust you, you won't get another." Catalina walked out.

Rosetta stared at the door and smiled. She couldn't believe how easy it all was. And now she knew something else. The real reason why Catalina and Marietta were arguing and plotting together. Lorenzo killedPatriTomosino. That truth changed everything. Catalina wasn't so special. She wasn't even that pretty. And once Armando Mancini was done with her she won't be that cherished. Rosetta dropped back on her pillows and kicked her feet and pounded her fists with joy.

"Yes! Yeeeeesssssss!" she cheered.

This was the good life!

***

They lay together in each other’s arms. Husband and wife. Her wet hair was stuck to the side of her face. She listened and waited until the rapid succession of his heartbeat calmed. She waited until she knew he was relaxed.

"My grandfather’s name was Abel. Like in the Bible," she began. "Everything in my life since my mother’s death was always guided by the Bible. He was a preacher until the day he died. A respected man in our town. And I was what he would call ‘the pearl’ of his heart."

"You are the pearl of my heart," Giovanni said and kissed the top of her head.

She smiled. "My childhood was good, better than Marietta's. I was loved and spoiled. I was also sheltered, protected, watched closely, and when my grandmother died things changed. It broke him to lose her. It broke something in me too. No mother, no Me-Ma, the loss was really hard for me. Grandfather clung even tighter to me, Giovanni. And I clung to him. The only escape I ever had was sewing and reading books. Not much else. Until I met Cutter. He was six years older than me. A street fighter, training to be a boxer. He boxed at the local recreation center. My church did an event there. It was the first time I saw him. From that moment on I used to sneak away from home to see him box. And then... more. When my grandfather heard the whispers in the church, he was furious. And that's when the struggle between he and I began. My rebellion was against his desire not to make the same mistake he had made with my mother. It was like he didn’t see me anymore. Only her. And the things he would say, accuse me of, it wasn’t fair.”

She paused. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight. She wasn't sure she could continue. Giovanni didn't speak. All she felt was the body heat from his embrace. And the way his hand went up and down her arm lovingly. Soon the tightness in her heart loosened and the sob in her throat dissolved. She could speak and breathe evenly again.

“The day of his heart attack was the day Cutter, and I had a fight. My grandfather found us on the farm. He and Cutter...argued. Threats were made. I got in between them, and Cutter shoved me aside. I was pushed to the ground. My grandfather lost it. He fought Cutter. I had never seen him raise his hand in anger. But he did more than that. He.. in the fight... it.. he had a heart attack. Twelve days later he died."

Giovanni stared at the ceiling as he listened to his wife's history. He felt ashamed. The only history he ever cared to know was her tie to Marsuvio Mancini. He never considered there was more. There was so much more to know and to love about her. He wanted to be the husband she shared everything with. He worked hard at being that man.

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