Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 142938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Do you love Vittorio?” Francesca asked.
It was far too soon. A month? Five weeks? Part of that she’d been out of it. It had been the best month of her life, in spite of the pain. She looked for him. She listened for him. Every cell in her body was completely tuned to him. Was that love or obsession? Was it just turning to a man to help her out in a terrible time of need?
“I haven’t had time to find out. He asked me to give him a chance and I was. I told him I would, but then Eloisa came along and I lost my confidence.”
Francesca sighed. “Don’t fall into the trap I did. Eloisa tried to drive a wedge between Stefano and me. She does a good job of undermining my confidence whenever she sees me. I wish I was more like Mariko, who ignores her, or Sasha, who puts her in her place. Instead, I let her words hurt me and then Stefano loses his mind.”
“Vittorio threatened to put her out of the house, and I think he would have.”
“He would have,” Francesca and Sasha said in unison.
Grace found herself laughing. “I’m beginning to know him enough that I believe when he says something, he means it.”
The smile faded from Sasha’s face. “I hope you always remember that. Ferraro men show their true colors to the women they fall in love with. I can’t imagine that Vittorio won’t let you see him as he truly is with what he needs and expects from his woman.”
Francesca glanced at her sister-in-law sharply but then sipped water from a straw and subsided onto her pillow. “Do you have any idea how exhausting it is doing absolutely nothing? I’ve taken up knitting and it’s a mess. I heard crocheting was easier, but I doubt it. I really admire and have mad respect for women who knit.” She indicated the bag that was on the side of the bed.
Sasha took out the ivory-colored yarn and held up the shapeless blob that was supposed to be some kind of handmade item. “What is it?”
“Give that to me,” Francesca said and tried to snatch it out of Sasha’s hand.
Sasha burst out laughing. “I’m showing this to the boys.”
“Don’t you dare. That awful Taviano will have it framed and hung in my baby’s room and then torment me day and night over it.”
Grace wanted the camaraderie the Ferraros unfailingly showed to one another—and now were extending to her. Vittorio was offering her that. Was she really so afraid that she wouldn’t even give him a chance—give them a chance? She didn’t want to be that girl, the one curled up in a little ball. The one under the covers in the fetal position. She’d been there hundreds of times and every single time she’d told herself to stand up. This time, win or lose, if she just stood up, she had the very real opportunity, which would never come again, to be with a man she’d dreamt of.
She wanted someone to care for her the way Vittorio was offering. Someone who would keep her safe and protect her from the worst of life. She’d had the worst for too long and she wanted a buffer. The idea of an exciting and different sex life made her hot and damp with excitement. She was unashamed that she wanted everything he was offering and was willing to trade a little of her freedom for it. In her mind, Vittorio gave her wings. He set her free to soar high, but in safety.
“Do you know something?” Grace leapt out of her chair, jarring the hell out of her shoulder but she didn’t care as realization dawned. “Most of my life, I’ve thought about Haydon every single minute. I’ve been terrified of him. Terrified for anyone I spoke to that day. If I laughed when I was talking to a client. Or to the catering company. Anyone. The point is, he was always uppermost in my mind. I haven’t thought about Haydon practically at all. Just the last few nights when Vittorio wasn’t sleeping in my room.”
She didn’t care how that sounded to them—if they believed she and Vittorio were already having sex. What sane woman wouldn’t have sex with him? She was elated. In his way, by taking her phone, wrapping her in a cocoon, making the decisions about who could speak to her and who couldn’t, he had already given her freedom. I haven’t thought of Haydon. She hadn’t been afraid. She already missed the closeness she’d had with Vittorio. “Vittorio is on my mind. I think about him every waking minute.”
Francesca practically beamed at her. “That’s good, Grace. I’m so happy that Vittorio could do that for you.”
“Me too.” She touched her arm and found herself laughing. “Ow. I don’t think I’m quite ready to jump out of chairs.”