Page 30 of Of Grief And Gratitude

I spat pinkish saliva on his white dress shirt, and my palm cracked hard against his cheek. “Get out, asshole!”

I spun and slipped through the door into my apartment, slamming the door behind me and leaning my forehead against the cool surface. My heart raced, and I tried to catch my breath after Romeo had stolen it with his kiss.

Something thumped against the door, startling me.

Romeo’s muffled voice drifted through the wood. “I can’t wait to see you again, mia fiamma.”

Chapter Nine

What about mass made the tie I wore so often feel tight around my neck?

It wasn’t conviction. If I were going to feel bad about my actions, that would have happened years ago. No, I suspected it had something to do with the fiery redhead sitting primly between Cosimo and me, focusing on the priest’s Easter liturgy.

I’d been trying to figure out how to get her to spend more time with me after she’d slapped and spit on me. Her rage was fucking hot. I’d been hard all night after, even though I’d headed straight home to a cold shower and stroked myself while thinking about her spitting in my mouth during sex.

Fuck me. I shifted in the pew to relieve my growing erection, mortified when my mother gave me a sidelong glance. That did the trick—shriveled dick. The corner of Riona’s mouth tipped upward like she knew what had happened. She probably did, the witch, working her sensual spell over me like I was helpless to resist.

I finally texted and told her she needed to be seen with me at Easter mass with my family, and she’d bought it, allowing me to pick her up so we could arrive together. The Nerettis filled the front two pews in the church; we were all expected to make an appearance on the holiday to put on a good front to the community. My father’s attempt to look like one big, happy family only fooled the most naïve parishioners.

The priest droned on and on, and I abandoned any attempt at listening to the mass I’d heard year after year. Instead, I watched Riona kneel, her dress riding up her thighs. It was pink like her flush as she recovered after an orgasm, fitting snugly around her breasts and flaring out from waist to knee. Her matching pink heels had me thinking all sorts of indecent thoughts that all revolved around those shoes framing my head.

I wanted to muss up her styled red waves and see them spread over my pillow like she had looked on my massage table. I’d never been so fixated on a woman. Sure, I loved making a woman enjoy sex with me, and I liked the attention I got from my subscribers, but I was happy with my one-night stands. I didn’t offer to make women food, and I’d already fed Riona. Granted, it had been a sandwich, but between that and my parents’ dinner, I’d eaten more meals with Riona than I had any woman I’d fucked in years.

I closed my fist, so I wouldn’t reach out to touch her, and crossed myself at the end of the service. My father loved entering after all the other devotees, and none dared exit their row until my family had left like a recessional. Riona didn’t say anything if she found it strange.

People who had seen the news stopped to meet Riona before I could guide her away from the unofficial greeting line that had formed for my father. She handled it well, graciously shaking hands and smiling like all the attention was natural. Old church ladies weren’t as intimidating as paparazzi with cameras.

When I caught a moment with Riona alone, I leaned down and spoke so only she could hear. “Are you ready to head back to the house?”

“More than,” she said, her smile not faltering. “How long will Sunday dinner take?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, sliding my hand into my pants pocket and grabbing my key fob. “Maybe five hours?”

“Five hours?” she repeated incredulously. “For dinner?”

“Don’t the Irish have big family gatherings?” I couldn’t believe things were quiet at the O’Connor camp, given everything my sister Bianca had told me about her experiences with them.

“Well, yes,” she confirmed, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her dress.

“Great, then you’ll be fine. Let’s go.” I took her arm and led her around the side of the church, down the street to where I’d parked. She climbed in while I held the door, then sat silently while I drove us back to my parents’ house.

The sound of boisterous women filtered down the hall from the kitchen, filling the house with life. My mother returned with my aunt and cousins before the rest of us, so dinner prep was already well underway.

“Romeo!” My Aunt Valentina came to greet us. “Come have a snack.”

“Zia,” I greeted her, kissing her cheeks. “This is Riona.”

“I’ve heard so much about you!” she said, embracing Riona.

“Hopefully nothing awful.” Riona laughed, lightly patting her back. Valentina helped her out of her coat, hung it up, and then took her purse.

“Come on.” Valentina motioned toward the kitchen, and we followed her into the kitchen. “Look what I found!”

The entire room smelled of bread, beef roast, and spices. My mother stood by the stove, stirring the Sunday sauce, and my cousins Olivia and Gabriela stood at the island, rolling out sheets of dough. They looked up when we entered and greeted us loudly enough that Riona took a startled step back. I wrapped an arm around her waist, and she stiffened at my touch.

“Ah! You are here!” My mother handed the spoon off to Valentina and hurried over, taking a firm hold of my face and kissing me repeatedly.

“Mamma,” I protested, feeling like an embarrassed schoolboy. “It’s been twenty minutes since I saw you.”

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