Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Of course.”
Feeling relieved, I eat in silence for a minute before I think to ask, “How was your day?”
Angelo clears his throat. “Do you really want to know?”
Right. Do I want to hear about all the people he tortured and killed?
But he’s my husband. If I’m going to learn to love him, I’ll have to accept what he does for a living.
I take a deep breath before I nod.
He lifts an eyebrow at me, then says, “I spent most of my day at the shipping yard. It was actually boring.”
That’s not what I expected to hear.
“Why were you at a shipping yard?”
“I own a fleet that transports illegal goods worldwide.”
Nodding, I take another sip of my wine. “How many businesses do you have?”
“Three. Piccola Sicilia, Fallen Angels, and the fleet.” He seems to relax as the conversation grows more comfortable. “But I spend most of my time at the club.”
Not knowing much about Fallen Angels except that Giorgio loves to go there, I ask, “I’m assuming Friday nights are busy at the club. Are you going there after dinner?”
He shakes his head. “I have someone who manages everything.” The corner of his mouth lifts in a hot grin. “I’m yours for the weekend.”
He’s mine.
The words hit me right in the heart, and I quickly drink the rest of my wine.
“Before I forget,” Angelo says while relaxing back in his chair, “We’re taking a trip to Sicily soon. Do you have a passport?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“We’ll get you one.”
Are we going on our honeymoon?
Excitement bubbles in my chest. “Why are we going to Sicily?”
“I have business to take care of, and I want you to meet my family.”
Crap.
I didn’t even consider Angelo’s family. Instantly, nerves tighten in my stomach.
“I took over from my uncle, but he’s still involved in the business. He runs things on my behalf in Sicily,” Angelo informs me. “He’ll be happy to hear I finally got married.”
I twirl the wine glass around and around as I nod to show I’m listening.
“When we’re visiting with them, don’t worry if they bring up the topic of heirs.”
My eyes dart to his. “I won’t mind if they do.”
“I don’t want you to feel pressured about having children.”
I let out an awkward chuckle. “I’m not on birth control, and you took off the condom the other night.”
His eyes narrow on me. “Does that bother you?”
I quickly shake my head. “No. We’re married.”
“Giorgio mentioned you want to be a mother,” he says.
God. I haven’t even thought of Giorgio since the wedding. It sucks that he doesn’t even check to see if I’m okay.
“Yes, I’ve always wanted children of my own.”
I just never thought it would be with Angelo Rizzo.
My gaze drifts over his face, and I wonder whether he’ll be a good father.
“If it will make you happy, then we won’t start you on birth control.”
The corner of my mouth lifts at the thought of holding a baby in my arms. “It will make me very happy.”
Angelo reaches for my arm and trails his fingers over my skin. Goosebumps rise beneath his touch, and he looks fascinated by my reaction to him.
When his fingers trail over the back of my hand, I turn my palm up and close my fingers around his. Angelo’s eyes snap to my face, and I feel a fluttering sensation in my stomach.
Gathering my courage, I admit, “I really want our marriage to be a success.”
His features soften, and for the first time, I see affection in his eyes. “I want that too, mia piccola cerviatta.”
The sensation grows until it feels like my stomach is doing cartwheels.
“You’ll have to change your nickname for me soon,” I tease him.
“Why?”
“I’m only skittish around new people.”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Does that mean you’re getting used to me?”
My thumb brushes over his golden skin. “Yes.”
“That’s good to hear.” His tone is low and intimate, causing tingles to spread over my body.
I take a deep breath then look at our empty plates. “Are you ready for dessert?”
“There’s dessert?”
Smiling at him, I pull my hand free from his and start clearing the table.
Angelo gets up as well and helps me carry everything to the kitchen.
When I open the fridge to take out the strawberries and freshly whipped cream, I ask, “Are you allergic to anything.”
“No.” Instead of returning to the dining room, he takes a seat at the island. “Do you have any allergies?”
I shake my head, and placing the dessert on the marble top, I say, “It’s nothing elaborate. I wanted to stick with the fruit theme.”
Just like the night before, Angelo pats his jean-clad thigh. “Come sit here.”
My face heats as I sit on his lap, and I wrap my left arm around his neck.
This position is so freaking intimate.
He picks up a strawberry and scoops some cream onto it before bringing it to my mouth.