"Why don't you divorce him, Eloisa? You're retired. It won't matter whether or not you can ride a shadow. It won't matter to him if he doesn't remember any of us." He spoke as gently as possible. "He's never been anything but hurtful to you."
Eloisa held up her hand. It was shaking, but she kept it there, a barrier between them. "If I can't ride a shadow, I can't get to one of you when you might need help. I don't care what Phillip does. It isn't like I'm going to find the love of my life at this late date, but I can continue to make certain my children are as safe as I can make them."
Stefano regarded his mother, wondering at her strange reaction. She sounded . . . caring. "Did you want to have children, Eloisa?"
There was silence. Francesca's fingers dug deeper into his muscle. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, needing to touch her. Grateful she was so close to him, leaning into him, staying by his side in spite of the way Eloisa had spoken of her earlier. She kept his temper under control and allowed him to listen to his mother's voice, judging it for honesty. He would never have asked his mother such a question, would never have gotten far enough in a conversation with her to even consider finding out more about her.
Eloisa was a very controlled, disciplined person, much like he was. She was also extremely private. She kept all emotions--other than anger--locked down. Now, she just looked vulnerable. He almost wished he hadn't asked. Eloisa never appeared vulnerable or fragile. She looked almost as if she might shatter.
Twice she licked her lips and her gaze shifted away from his, but not before he thought he caught the sheen of tears. She shook her head twice. "I wanted a husband and children just like most women, but that wasn't my reality. My reality was to give them a legacy they had no choice but to fulfill. I had gone through the training."
A bitter smile twisted her mouth, one difficult to witness. Francesca's palm stroked this thigh soothingly, as if she could feel his reaction and at the same time, keep him grounded and balanced.
"I know you think tua nonna e il nonno were loving, wonderful people, but they adhered to the old ways. They were taskmasters, far worse than I could ever be. The masters we were sent to were brutal, and I know you think the training was too hard on your brothers and sister, but that was what was drilled into us, that training was everything." She shook her head, a little shudder going through her body. "Some of the trainers were cruel, but a necessary evil."
"Is that what you think?" Stefano snapped, visions of Ettore rising up, sharp and murderous in his mind. His gut knotted and it was only Francesca's restraining hand that prevented him from leaping up and pacing with restless energy to keep from shouting insults at his mother. "You knew the trainers were cruel and yet you sent my brothers to them anyway. You sent me but that didn't turn out so well for the family, did it?"
"Stefano, you can't ignore the fact that training is necessary. Without it, none of you could do what you do. It's difficult, yes, but all other riders have gone through it."
"It's necessary, Eloisa, but it doesn't have to be at the hands of brutal trainers. Cruelty has no place in what we do, so those of us who ride shouldn't be subjected to vicious trainers just for the sake of inflicting pain for their pleasure."
Eloisa gasped. Her hand crept defensively up her throat. "Is that what you think? That I sent all of you to them so they could be cruel to you?"
"You are our parent. It was your job to protect us." Stefano made it an accusation.
Francesca pressed closer to him, under his shoulder, her body warm and soft and giving. Comforting him when he hadn't known that was what he needed most. The memories of his childhood were close--too close. Of his sister screaming night after night with night terrors. Of his brothers returning from other countries cold and hardened, with hell in their eyes. Of carrying Ettore's body through the shadows. Rage moved in him and he tightened his arm around Francesca to help keep it at bay.
"I followed tradition, Stefano, just like every other parent of a rider. I sent all of you to the best trainers around the world. I went, and every other rider goes. When you were away from me here in the States, I went to ensure there was no cruelty, but I couldn't go to Europe with all of you." Eloisa's voice was low. Choked. Strangled.
"You knew what would happen, Eloisa, or you wouldn't have gone to the trainers here in the States."
"It's tradition." Eloisa all but shouted it, but there were tears in her voice.
"Years ago, the women were nothing, Eloisa. They had no rights. They couldn't own property. They were property. That changed because it wasn't right. Children were beaten regularly by parents. That changed because it wasn't right. Just because something is tradition, handed down from one generation to the next, doesn't make it right."
"Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I learned that when Ricco came back from Japan and he was so changed? There's death in his eyes. There's emptiness when before there was such life. All of them came back changed. Even you, and you're so strong, Stefano." Her voice broke.
"All of them are strong, Eloisa. Every single one of them. Dump Phillip. We can take care of one another in the shadows. Let yourself live. Let yourself enjoy your children instead of making yourself crazy, trying to protect us when we no longer need it."
Eloisa took a deep breath to steady herself. "I'll think about it. I can see you're tired, Stefano, so I'll go now and let you get some sleep." She shook her head and stood, raising a hand to keep either of them from giving her sympathy of any kind.
Stefano stood as well, taking Francesca with him, locking her tightly to his side. She immediately pressed her palm to his abdomen so that her warmth burned right through his thin shirt and into his skin. It went deeper still, so that her heat spread through his body, making him very aware of how lucky he was to have her. To have found her. His mother was a shell. She presented a cold, calculating woman with little emotion to the rest of the world and even he had believed it. Instead, she was a woman with dreams of being loved. She had been forced into a loveless marriage with a man who cared only for the power of shadow riding. Of the ability it gave him to carry on his affairs. She'd sacrificed the love of her children in order to carry on the traditions her parents had forced on her.
Stefano looked down at Francesca as the elevator doors slid closed. "Our children will know love, dolce cuore. If I become too harsh in their training, I need your word that you'll stop me."
She smiled up at him. "I would hit you over the head and knock sense into you if you dared to be too harsh with our children."
She was smiling at him, but there was truth in her eyes, honesty in her voice and steel in her spine. He had no doubts that she meant what she said.
"Let's go to bed," he said, turning her toward the bedroom. He wanted to lie down and just hold her. "That was a surprise. Eloisa has never talked about her feelings. Not once. She's never showed emotion, not even when Ettore died." His death was too close. Far too close. He felt as if the walls were pressing in on him.
"What she said about Ricco. The training. What was that?"
He stripped, tossing his clothes aside and then stretching out on top of the sheets, hands behind his head as he watched her take her clothes off. When she reached for one of the many sexy camisoles he'd bought her, he shook his head. "Not tonight, Francesca. I don't want anything between us. Not even something that gives me great pleasure in taking off. Just come to bed."
She was beautiful. More than beautiful. Her body was lush and inviting, just the way she was. "You give all of us hope. Did you know that? Do you have any idea how important you are to my brothers and sister? Not because you're going to give me babies, but because you represent something beautiful and amazing. None of us believed we'd ever have the chance to love someone. Or that we'd be loved."
Francesca stretched out beside him, her body turned toward his, one arm slung around his waist, her head on his shoulder, one leg thrown over his thighs. She did that a lot, he realized. Turned her body toward him. She never protested wh
en he locked her to his side, or at night when he draped himself all over her. She just snuggled closer to him.
"You need to explain all this to me, Stefano," she urged. Her fingers moved over his chest, tracing his heavy muscles. "I need to know. I want to understand."
He shifted just enough that he could wrap an arm around her. The lights were off, but he could see her easily through the bank of uncovered windows that were one wall of his room. Up so many floors, there was no one to see in, yet he could look down on the city with all the lights. He loved his city. He loved his neighborhood. More than anything he loved his family.
"I've told you some of it. We go back hundreds of years. The Ferraro family always had riders born into it. Men and women capable of connecting with shadows and entering them, like a tube, an expressway. When we're inside the shadow, no one can see us. In the old days, our ancestors took on the task of protecting family and friends and then, eventually others in our neighborhood."
She nodded and turned her head just slightly to press a kiss into his chest. He'd told her this before, but he needed to start somewhere comfortable. She was patient with him, but then he knew she would be--just like she would be patient with their children.
"When the Ferraros refused to join the Saldi family or reveal to them just how they were able to protect so many, the head of the Saldi family issued orders to wipe them out. Every man, woman and child. Only the riders escaped. A few cousins off on a holiday. Those remaining alive went into hiding. Because the shadow riders were able to get away, the family began to rebuild in secret."
Her finger traced his ribs. "I know where you get your tenacity."
He captured her hands and brought her fingertips to his mouth, his teeth scraping seductively along the pads. "They spent years building an empire. Branches of riders were established in major cities throughout the world. Every rider had to be familiar with languages and geography so they're sent to each city to train while teens. The other family members began legitimate businesses. Solid ones that would bring prosperity to the family. Banks, hotels, casinos, nightclubs. Each business was carefully built up before another was added."
"All of them are capable of handling any money a shadow rider would get for his services that aren't so legit," she murmured. "Like the rescue of a seventeen-year-old girl."
"No money for that job. Some jobs are bartered for favors. Others small things. Taking on work that involves executing someone"--he deliberately used the expression to see her reaction--"requires a great deal of money unless, as in the case of a brutalized child, the petitioner can't afford it, isn't a criminal and the need is justified."
"That's why you have such a process. The greeters, and then the investigators."
"Yes." He bit down again on her finger, wanting to kiss her, warmth spreading through him because she didn't even flinch when he used the word executing. "We have to be certain before we take a job. There can be no mistakes. Both sides are investigated, the petitioner as well as the target and the incident itself. We protect the family at all costs. We make certain our own riders don't take down anyone who can draw attention to us in our own city. We don't do our own personal work. Nothing close to us. We use the paparazzi for alibis. Because we play so publicly, few people ever consider that we would do anything that they can't see."
"And you're careful." She made it a statement.
"And we're careful," he confirmed. He was silent a moment before continuing, his fingers delving into the silk of her hair. "It's difficult to find others outside the family with the ability to ride the shadows. There just aren't that many. Men have a little longer to find someone they truly want than a woman, because in the end, we serve the family and that means producing riders. Riders keep us safe. If the Saldis or anyone else ever try to wipe us out again, retaliation would be swift and brutal. They know that. They don't know how we do it, but they know we can get to them."
He had to make her understand. "The riders are important to the family, Francesca. Our training, training the children, it is necessary for us to continue. It's difficult but very rewarding. But . . ." He trailed off.
"Tell me."
He could because it was Francesca. His woman. She seemed to understand everything he needed or wanted. "I will train our children and they'll go to other trusted trainers, but Francesca, if this life isn't for them, I don't want them not to have a choice. I don't want arranged, loveless marriages for them. I'll teach you to shadow ride because I want you safe, but I never want you to do the work or see the violence. I don't want it touching you. I need you to understand that. It isn't because I don't want to share power with you. It's because . . ."
She rolled over, sprawling over his body, her hands framing his face. "You don't have to explain. I know you want me home, to balance out the training. There's nothing wrong with that."
"I want to come home to clean. To something wonderful and warm. To love. I want that for my children. I need that."
"I know you do," she murmured, and pressed a kiss into his throat.
"You have to know there are consequences to being with me, Francesca. I wasn't exaggerating when I warned you what kind of man I am. I expect to lead. I expect you to follow. I'll give you everything I can. I want you happy. But I need you safe. That's something in me I can't change. There will be a lot of demands. That you let me know where you are every minute. That has nothing to do with trust, and everything to do with my issue to know you're safe."
"I know that about you, Stefano."
He took a breath. He had to let her know everything. He had to know if she could live with the real consequences of being married to a shadow rider. "That's nowhere near the worst." He took a breath. Framed her face to look into her eyes. "The truth is, Francesca, once we're married and our shadows are completely merged, if things didn't work out and we divorced, the shadows would tear apart and there isn't any repairing them. I would lose my ability to ride the shadows. That's what my mother was talking about tonight. You would lose all memory of me, our life and even our children together. You wouldn't remember anything to do with shadow riding. You wouldn't suffer, because you'd have no memory of it, but you would lose your children. That's why it's important to know for certain before we're married, that this life is for you."
He felt her sudden stillness. The swift inhale. She started to roll off of him, her first retreat. He didn't allow it, his arms locking her to him. "Don't, bambina, don't leave me. Just listen. Hear the truth in my voice. I love you with everything in me. There will never be a time that I won't. I'm incapable of cheating on you. I'm too loyal, and I know you have that in you as well. We'll work things out. I know I'm difficult, but I swear, with every breath in my body, Francesca, I'll work at our marriage."
"It's a huge price, Stefano, if something goes wrong."
"I know that. I know what you're risking. It seems I have less to lose, but it isn't so. I would be half a man without you, and I wouldn't know who I was without the ability to ride. Marry me, be my wife. Be my partner. Take the risk with me. I need you in a way I've never needed anything or anyone." He was giving himself up to her. He'd never felt more vulnerable. Never felt more terrified. "Every fucking word I said to you is the truth."
She brushed her mouth across his. Looked into his eyes, searching for something. She must have found it because she nodded. It was slow in coming, but in the end, she did nod her acceptance. "Yes. The answer is still yes."
*
Stefano woke Francesca three hours after he fell asleep and he made love to her. Gently. As gently as possible for him. He made certain she was gasping and ready before he took her, driving her up again and again, giving her three orgasms before he emptied himself in her. He fell back asleep to the sound of her taking a bath. The woman loved the fucking bathtub.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stefano woke with the dawn creeping into the bedroom and urgent need clawing at his belly. His cock was hard and thick, desperate to be inside Francesca's warm, wet ch
annel. Francesca's long hair moved in a sensual slide over his thighs and belly, so much silk, building a wild urgency as her mouth moved between his legs. Up his thighs, spreading kisses and little bites right up to his aching balls. She licked his sac and his cock jerked hard. Her fingers found him, rolling and caressing his tight balls even as her tongue slowly bathed them in warmth. She made little moaning sounds that added to the dark fantasy.
"Dolce cuore." It was all he could manage when she licked up his shaft. Greedy. Hungry. He reached down to bunch silk into his fist. Her mouth slid over the wide, flared head of his cock and she engulfed him. Completely. Taking him deep. Unexpectedly. The inside of her mouth was wet and slick, hotter than hell. "Fucking paradise." He groaned. Tugged at her hair to raise her head. He wanted to see her eyes. He loved holding her gaze while she went down on him.
"Gotta look at me, bambina. I have to see your eyes." He loved how she was ravenous for him in the same way he always felt insatiable for her. How her eyes conveyed her excitement and her love of what she was doing. He needed that almost as much as he needed her mouth on him. Her hair, moving over his thighs and belly, made him ultrasensitive so that every nerve ending in his body leapt to life. Fire danced over his skin, adding to the sensations her mouth and hands created.
He waited for the impact, holding his breath. When it came, when she lifted her lashes and her eyes met his, his heart contracted in his chest and deep inside, where no one could see, she shattered him. That look. So full of love. So full of lust. For him. The man. Not the name. Not the money. Not for any other reason. Just for him. His fists tightened in her hair. He wanted to jerk her up to him, but she chose that moment to take him in her mouth.
Watching him watch her, she parted her lips and slowly, inch by inch, took him deep. It was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. She kept her gaze on his, letting the hunger burn in her eyes as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, her tongue lashing him with strokes that felt like white lightning.