La Famiglia (5 page)

“Catalina! You and Catalina did this. Didn’t you? Did Teddy help? Was he involved?”

Giovanni had to hold her to slow her down. She felt soft, warm in his arms. “I told you, Bella. I am the man to make sure your dreams come true. Teddy did nothing. It was all me.”

She shook her head. “Of course, honey, it was all you.”

“You give up nothing for loving me. Right?” he boasted.

“Right,” she reassured him.

“You will have everything you wish as we build our life together,” he said.

She nodded. She hugged him with her face pressed against his chest. “This is what we dreamed of when we came to Italy—Fabiana and me. This is our dream. We were going to build our own fashion house in Italy. Start our lives together and then take over Europe. From Milano to Paris we’d leave our mark. We had so many plans. So many.”

Giovanni lifted her chin. “It’s time you’ve seen your final gift. Your office.”

“Really? So you designed that too huh?” Mira’s mouth took on a decidedly sensuous curve. Those curious brown eyes of hers ringed in long thick lashes stared up at him with undiluted love.

“I do everything for you,” he replied.

“And for you,” she teased.

“Give me a kiss, my woman,” he said, unable to resist her mouth so close to his.

“Why don’t you take it, my husband,” she whispered. She brought her lips just a centimeter away. “You know how, don’t you?”

He caught the corner of her lower lip between his teeth. She released a silent cry of surprise over the sting of the nip. With a tiny sigh in her throat she returned his kiss. Letting his tongue glide deeper and sweep fully in her mouth, he enjoyed the melting sweetness of her tongue as it rolled over his own. The round hard swell of her tummy carrying the future of their family brushed his lower abdomen. Desire speared him—strong, seductively insistent. When she guided her hand to his groin and squeezed he had to force himself to let her go. Giovanni shook his head and smiled.

“Something wrong?” she teased.

He took her hand and walked her toward two glass doors. There had been a single request made to Dominic. One he wanted his consigliere to see to personally, and he was stunned by the execution and presentation of his gift. However, his surprise was no match for Mira. She walked into the office staring up at the portrait in silence. Three years ago just before they met, Mira had taken publicity photos for her debut in Milano. One in particular was of a very fetching, seductive pose of Mira and Fabiana back to back. Maybe it was done for fun, or to advertise their partnership. It was Theodore Tate who provided the still image to Dominic and Giovanni for them to have immortalized in a realistic portrait. Italy remained one of the greatest places to find talented artists and Salvatore Gilucci painted this personally for the Battaglia family. Today was the first time Giovanni had laid eyes upon the portrait.

Mira’s slender figure was nicely defined in an alluring black dress that stopped mid thigh. She appeared both seductive yet professional in her pose. Her thick hair was straightened and reached just beyond her shoulders, tucked behind her ears to reveal teardrop black jeweled earrings. Her smoky dark eye shadow, and extended lashes made the side ways stare she gave the camera lens suggestive. Fabiana was just as striking in the portrait. Her scarlet red hair cascaded to her shoulders. She wore an identical sexy fitted dress but hers was white with matching stilettoes that only added to the beauty of her legs. She too cut the camera a sideways glance with a seductive smirk to her red lips. The yin and yang power team stood back to back with arms crossed. Both women were fiercely composed.

“I remember this. We took the picture two months before we… before we traveled to Italy.” Mira put both hands to her brow. Giovanni remained close out of concern. When her shoulders shook he realized she was crying. He embraced her from behind.

“You two made quite a team,” he said. He hoped she shed tears of happiness. That was the only emotion he wanted to evoke. Giovanni glanced up at the painting and was riveted by the artist’s ability to capture his Bella the way he saw her. The portrait was seven feet tall and four feet wide. Against the stark white wall it commanded attention.

“I love you so much, Giovanni. For doing this. For doing all of this. For being my best friend and knowing what I need. I thought… never mind what I thought,” she sniffed.

“You thought I wanted to change you. I do. But never for the worst, Bella, only for the good of our marriage and our family. We need you.” He kissed her. “I want a wife, a mother to my kids. And for that to happen I want you to be whole. This is who you are.” He glanced back up at the portrait. “Mirabella Ellison Battaglia. I don’t fear that woman. I love her too.”

Mira turned in his arms. There was so much emotion in her weepy eyes he couldn’t discern which one she settled on. “I will keep my promise. Not a day before we are ready will I return full time to my career.”

“And I promise to be ready when we decide you do,” he smiled. He kissed her.

She ran her hands over his arms, up to his shoulders and neck. He dragged his mouth from hers to look into her face. Beneath her long lashes her pupils were large, her plump lips parted, she had that dazed look in her eyes when she wanted him to make love to her. “Ti amo,” he whispered against her mouth.

“Ti amo,” she breathed in response. The sexual tension they shared mixed nicely with the way her touch to his neck and the side of his jaw soothed him. After a moment of mutual reflection Mira eased her hands down his sides to circle his waist. Giovanni stole a glance behind him. Renaldo knew better than to enter unless summoned. No one was on the floor. The room was carpeted but emptied of furniture. Giovanni’s gaze switched to the portrait. The first time he saw Bella she was as fiercely independent as that woman staring back at him in the photo.

“I want to celebrate, baby,” she said and kissed his chin, beneath his neck. Her hands glided around his waist and rubbed up his back slowly. “Here.”

“Now?” It was as much a question as it was a warning. She was still in a delicate way. The miscarriage scare was just under two months ago. They enjoyed sex regularly but always in a controlled manner, their bed. There he could reign in his desires and balance her comfort against his insatiable appetite.

“Yes. Now,” she said. “Let’s christen my office.”

Mira shed her leather jacket. “You will have to undress me. I have trouble bending forward you know,” she teased. She kicked her boot at him in a playful fashion.

After a deep intake of breath Giovanni walked out of her inner office to the front and closed the doors. The doors each locked from the inside. They would be alone. He returned to find Mira before the portrait. She ran her hand over the bottom of Fabiana’s image as if touching the painting simulated touching her friend. He entered the room. Though they spoke often about Fabiana it occurred to him why his wife’s torment was never-ending. Fabiana was her sister, family, the only family she had before she met him.

Giovanni felt a pang of guilt over the secret he carried. Surely his actions in separating his wife from Marietta weren’t the same as the loss of Fabiana. Even if he introduced Mira to Marietta they wouldn’t bond. The women were different. They had nothing in common. He reasoned that he did his wife a favor by sparing her the stress. But how long could he keep them apart?

“I really do love it. Fabiana was so beautiful. Wasn’t she?”

“She was.” Giovanni agreed.

“That’s what I will name our Italian operations. Fabiana. We can keep the American company Mirabella and start a new one under her name. What do you think?” she looked back.

Giovanni removed his trench coat and tossed it. He began to shed his suit jacket. He tried to shake his guilt, conceal it from her. “I like the idea.”

Mira grinned and turned to face him with a joyful clap. “I’m so happy! She will always be here.”

When he looked up at the portrait again all doubt melted away. Mira came to him. He began to unbutton her shirt.

“Are you sure we won’t be disturbed?” she asked.

“No one will dare,” he replied. Her shirt opened. He kissed her brow and then lowered. His hand travelled down her left leg and captured the zipper at the top of her ankle boot. He ran the tab down and removed one boot from her foot and then the next. She aided him by bracing for balance by gripping the tops of his shoulders. He stood and immediately went for the buttons to her jeans. Her breasts were twice the size they once were. She swore the pregnancy swelled in her boobs instead of her belly. He had to agree. Lucky for him he was indeed a breast, ass, and thigh man.

“Catalina will love this. I can decorate the office from home. I have a ton of magazines to order from. You know? I can look through them and start ordering what I like.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said. She giggled with excitement. He lowered the zipper to her jeans and began to peel
the fabric down her shaeply hips and thighs. She really was very, very, lovely—

The high-waist black lace panty trimmed her pussy. Giovanni ran his tongue along the seam. She gasped a breath. He could see it happen as if it occurred in his mind in slow motion. He’d undress her with care. Taste the pussy that was his. Fuck her. Fuck her again. Release the pent up desire that has cramped his dick since she emerged from the shower with her skin glistening with moisture, her hair poufy around her face, and her round ass and large breasts bouncing with each step she took.

He loved the body of his pregnant wife.

Giovanni removed her panties next. Mira tried to cross her arms and keep them lowered to cover her belly. The action offended him. She should never hide her beautiful curves. He knocked her hands away.

She talked of something related to the fashion business as she used his shoulders for balance to step out of her undergarments. His hearing dulled. Nothing she said registered. At his level the lovely smell of her fragrant skin had left his head spinning. All he could think of was having her.

Giovanni swiped a finger between the thick folds of her pussy. She silenced. She was wet. Her pussy felt warm and ready. For a moment he stroked her there as his eyes climbed the round curve of her stomach, the thick peaks of her dark nipples. And his gaze reached hers.

“Enough talking,” he said. “My ears burn.”

She blinked those round eyes of hers at him, and then smiled. She combed her fingers back over his scalp and stared down at him. “You trying to say I talk too much?”

He stood and this time it was he who had to look down on her. He lifted her chin. “Tell me all about decorating later. Focus on me. Only. Now.”

A spark flickered in her eyes, and to him it resembled obedience. His mouth found hers again and this time he devoured her sweet tongue and lips. Her silky tongue responded, stroking deeply. His lips suctioned softly. And her sweet sighs reminded him of all the other parts of her body he wanted to taste and suck the same way.

Mira’s hands worked fast at undoing his buckle and lowering his zipper. She pulled her mouth away to focus on the task. He only wore sleeveless t-back undershirts and boxers. He removed his clothes.

“Down boy,” she ordered.

His heart hammered fast, stricken by the primal surge of lust that seized his loins from the request.

Her steely gaze narrowed. “Now,” she said.

It was difficult to breathe. The air he did manage to take in was hot and sultry. Giovanni went to his knees. He carefully brought her with him. She pushed hard on his bare shoulders for him to recline so she could straddle his lap. But he was too busy rubbing his lips across the fuzz of pubic hair around her pussy. She didn’t shave and trim as much as she used to. He didn’t bother to question why. He was a man not a boy. He preferred his wife with hair on her pussy. The urge to spread her out on the carpet and drive several inches of his dick through her tight core became his singular purpose. When the damp folds of her pussy brushed his dick he went back as she requested.

“Good, baby, let me take control.” Mira cooed to him.

Giovanni put his hands behind his head, stretched out with his ankles apart. His male strength was hard and aroused when she fisted his dick and guided him to her opening. She decended. He slipped into bliss. His lids fluttered once her wet tightness sheathed his shaft. He heard her gasp for a breath. On instinct he shot his hips upward and encountered tight muscle. Urgent desire ripped through him and he gripped her hips for mercy. He thrusted slowly now, and aimed his dick with each push to what he knew would be her pleasure point. She countered his move with her own. Her soft thighs curved sensually around his hips as she rode his cock with a sweet rhythmic swirl of her hips back and forth.

“Ah, yes!” he grunted.

Giovanni was forced to rise to hold her, love her. In doing so he put her belly between them and felt the life they created. She was the woman of his dreams. She had given him more than he dreamed for. He captured a taut nipple in his mouth. He cupped her ass. He palmed both round cheeks and controlled her rise and fall on his dick. Mira’s pussy muscles expanded and then tightened on his cock in synchronization with his bottom maneuvers. So demanding was the pleasure boiling him from the inside, he lost the ability for any coherent thought. His brain fired off commands to take more. Mira put down moves that owned him. Every feeling was raw and undiluted. Giovanni dropped back and gripped her hips to slam her pussy up and down on his dick, refusing to relinquish control. He ignored the sharp breaths escaping his woman. It got so good to him he shot up again and began to sink his teeth into the curve of her neck, sucking her skin in through his pursed lips.