“It’s all a game to him,” Giovanni said. “He thinks he’s the smartest man in the room.”
“Maybe he is,” Vittorio said. “But that doesn’t mean he can win against all of us.”CHAPTER FIFTEENGrace laid her head back and stared up at the explosion of stars. They were spread across the clear night sky, looking like glittering diamonds. Around her, small puffs of steam rose from the hot tub to drift lazily around her. Her shoulder ached from the laps in the pool she’d done in order to strengthen it, but there was satisfaction in knowing she was finally able to actively work on repairing the damage.
Vittorio picked up her foot, put it in his lap and began massaging the sole and toes, relaxing her further. He had a way of touching her that relaxed her body immediately. He’d made love to her dozens of times. The moment he could, he had his staff leave, and he loved to strip her naked, or have her dress in very beautiful, elegant, but transparent lingerie. She learned very quickly he liked looking at her body.
“You do know, if I were to get pregnant, I’m not going to look the same.” It came out before she could censor.
His long fingers continued the massage, and silence ensued. She looked up cautiously and met his eyes. There was always that moment when she first made eye contact where she had the sensation of being held captive. She knew, no matter how long they were together, how many years passed, every time she looked at him, she would feel that same thrill, have that same sensation of a slow somersault in her stomach.
“Where did that come from?”
His tone was strictly neutral. She was coming to understand, Vittorio never got ruffled. He was always calm. Always centered. He spoke in that soft, low tone that carried absolute command, but he didn’t raise his voice.
She gave what she hoped was a casual shrug. “I was just thinking about how much you like to look at my body. After Merry leaves, the first thing you like is for me to strip, or to put on a see-through but gorgeous outfit.”
“Does that bother you?”
Vittorio tipped his head to one side and his hair fell across his forehead. Whenever he did that, she always had the urge to push the wayward strands back. She indulged herself. He touched her often and in intimate places. When they walked, he always had his hand on her hip or the small of her back, sometimes on the cheeks of her butt. She hadn’t yet been brave enough to claim him by voluntarily touching him unless they were having sex. Then she indulged her needs. Right now, she felt very brave reaching out and brushing at his hair with her fingertips.
He lifted his head and caught her finger in his mouth, drawing it in to suck on it. Her stomach plunged. Rolled. Heat exploded deep. Her sex clenched. She would never get enough of him. Never. He was the most sensual, gorgeous man in the world and she still couldn’t believe he was hers. She kept waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.
His tongue curled around her finger as he drew it out of his mouth. “The question requires an answer, gattina.”
She had to wrack her brain to remember the question, that was how easily he could make everything go out of her head. “I like that you want to look at me,” she admitted. She did, but it took getting used to. “I never thought of myself as beautiful. I think, like most women, I see every flaw I have, so at first, I was a little uncomfortable.” She still was uncomfortable, especially if he laid something out—like tonight—that was something she considered risqué. Still, it didn’t matter. If he wanted her to wear it, she would, because she loved to see the look on his face when she complied with his wishes. Pride. Approval. Pleasure. Possessiveness. He looked at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
“You have flaws?”
She laughed. “I’m not pointing them out to you if you’re blind to them.” She couldn’t imagine that, since he saw every little detail.
“I like when you wear what I’ve bought for you. It especially meant something to me tonight. I know you were a little reluctant when you first put it on, but you looked so sexy, you took my breath away. Thank you for at least trying it.”
Hearing the ring of sincerity, she hugged his compliment to her. She felt she didn’t give nearly enough in their relationship. He was always giving to her. He had smiled a lot less after the meeting with his family days earlier and she’d done her best, without knowing what was causing him undue strain, but so far, she didn’t feel as if she had succeeded in lightening his mood. Wearing lingerie seemed a small thing to give back if it pleased him.