Page 39 of The Virgin's Dance with the Devil
“Because she doesn’t care. My parents haven’t shared a bed since Siena was born. They’ve been together since they were at school, and their marriage works for them. They’ll never leave each other.”
“I’d care.”
“I know you would, and so would I. You’re the only woman for me now, angel, and I’m the only man for you.”
“Till death us do part.”
He kissed her belly. “Till death us do part.”
Massaging his head contentedly, she said, “So, your father… terrible husband but great father?”
“Great to me. Mattia and Tommaso might disagree. He’s always been harder on them.”
“In what way?”
“He had greater expectations of them. I was the youngest son, so I got away with a lot more than they did. I suppose it helped that we had a love of old cars in common and that I’ve always been able to make him laugh.” He turned his head so he could look up at her. “I know the reputation my father and my whole family have. I know people in the higher echelons of society turn their noses up at us behind our backs and suck up to our faces. We’re too powerful to be snubbed.”
“Too frightening,” she clarified.
“Yes. That too. Treat us honourably and with respect, and we’ll return the favour. Disrespect us, double-cross us or try to screw us over and expect to pay for it. But once you’re a part of our family, you join our ranks and become one of us. When Niccolo marries Siena on Saturday, he will become my brother and my father’s son and will be protected for the rest of his life.”
“Protected from what?”
“His own foolishness. Niccolo is reckless.” Ricofelt an unexpected and unwanted prick of his conscience to remember how the Espositos had taken advantage of that recklessness for their own ends; the end being marriage to Siena.
“What’s wrong?” Marisa asked.
Quickly squashing his conscience, he smiled. “Nothing.”
“Your eyes clouded.”
God, she was observant… although she would probably put that down to God making her observant. “There are some things it is better for you not to know.”
“So thereissomething wrong.”
“It depends on your definition of wrong, and as your definition of wrong is very different to mine, then believe me when I say there are things it is better for you not to know.”
“Rico, I can’t go into a marriage knowing my husband will keep secrets from me. We both chose all, and that means all. No secrets.”
“Not even if it’s for your own protection?”
“Especially then.” She traced her finger over his nose and cheekbone. “How can I protect you if you keep things from me?”
That made him grin. “You, protectme? You’re half my size.”
She tapped the end of his nose. “Protect your soul.”
The bell outside their Bali bed rang. Rico uncurled himself and climbed off the bed. After taking their drinks from the barman, he handed Marisa hers. They tapped their glasses together and then sucked through their straws, but the potent liquid had barely touched his tongue when his phone vibrated. As it was in the back pocket of his shorts, he pulled it out; would have ignored it if his father’s name hadn’t flashed on the screen.
“Speak of the devil,” he said wryly, showing the screen to Marisa. “I’d better answer this.”
Normally, he would take his phone elsewhere to speakwith privacy, but after the conversation they’d just had, thought he’d better stay put. He was confident Marisa would soon understand why it was better that certain things were kept from her and understand, too, that there would be situations when hehadto keep things from her, but those things were in their future. This was their present, and while he’d earlier had a different prick of his conscience and tried to give her a way out, that had been an impulsive burst of madness he would never allow be repeated. If Marisa wanted to be keeper of both their consciences, that was fine by him: Rico’s brief touch with his had led to him attempting to sabotage the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Once his father started talking, though, he wanted to kick himself for not taking a short solo walk.
“What’s happening with the English woman?” his father wanted to know. “Is the situation still under control?”
“Nothing’s happening,” he answered carefully. “Everything’s under control. She can’t leave.” He flicked a glance at Marisa to see her reaction to his words, but she’d taken her phone out of her beach bag and was reading something with a furrowed brow.
