“I was just giving Tatum a tour of your beautiful garden.” He placed his hand on my back, and heat spread along my cheeks. I was flushing again.
“Ah. My wife deserves all the credit when it comes to our garden.” He glanced around until his gaze found a blonde woman standing by the table with the champagne glasses—an American woman. “Angelique,” he called out. “Come meet Tatum Linscott.”
The woman smiled, and she picked up two champagne glasses. I watched her with intent as she walked toward us. Uncle Gino, I guessed, was probably in his fifties while this woman looked no older than mid-thirties, yet Castello had told me they had been married for twenty-two years. She was beautiful. Light blonde curls hung just above her shoulders, and with her slender frame, she looked amazing in the navy-blue cocktail dress she was wearing. It was easy to see that she was well taken care of.
Uncle Gino reached out and placed his arm around her waist. “Angelique, this is Tatum Linscott, Castello’s guest. Tatum, this is my lovely wife, Angelique.”
She smiled and held out a champagne glass. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Tatum.”
“And you.” I smiled in return as I took the glass from her, trying to think of a way to get rid of it without making Castello suspicious.
“Castello took her on a tour of your lovely garden,” Uncle Gino said, beaming as he stared at his wife. It was obvious that he loved her. It was written in the way he looked at her.
“You do have a lovely garden, Mrs. Fattore.”
“Yes,” Castello chimed in. “Tatum is especially fond of the passion flowers. She told me all about it.”
I almost choked on the damn breath I took and glared his way. But Castello’s face remained stoic.
Sly mother—
“Oh yes, the passion flowers are one of my favorites too,” Angelique said before taking a sip of her champagne. I took it as my cue to pretend like I was drinking as well by merely touching the glass to my lips.
“I hope Castello has been making you feel at home during your stay here.” Angelique shot him a coy look. “He has been very reluctant to share you with us.”
“Oh, believe me, Angelique, I’m reluctant to share her with anyone.” Castello allowed his hand to drop just above the curve of my behind, and my body willed him to touch me so much more.
Uncle Gino let go of his wife. “Castello, could I have a word with you?”
“Sure, Uncle.” Castello leaned into me and placed a kiss on my cheek before whispering, “Stay wet for me.”
I bit into my lower lip, my body instantly electrified, everything south of my navel clenched tight. How did he do it? How did he manage to turn me into a needy whore with nothing but words?
Angelique stepped closer as we both stared after the men. “Castello reminds me a lot of Gino.”
“How so?”
She smiled. “He has that same passion, that same protectiveness when it comes to those he cares about. His father and Carlo never shared that passion.”
I shifted nervously as the memory of Carlo came rushing back. Angelique was right. Carlo didn’t have the same passion as Castello. He wasn’t nearly the kind of man Castello was. Carlo was charming, charismatic, amiable…tame, while Castello was fierce, ardent, volatile, and unpredictable. Twins who couldn’t have been more different. That was, if I ever really knew the real Carlo.
“Can I ask you something?” I turned to face Angelique.
“Of course.”
“What is it like…you know, being married to a man who is part of such a powerful family?”
She stared at me knowingly, as if she could see the reasoning behind my question. “It’s—how can I put it—challenging at times. Italian men are not easy to live with. And like I said, Gino and Castello are both very passionate men.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “But when they love, they love fiercely, and there is nothing like being loved by a Fattore man.”
I smiled shyly. “Oh, I don’t think I’m loved by a Fattore man.”
She held her lips against her glass as she stared at me. “I do not believe for one second you are that naïve.”
“Naïve?”
She took a sip of champagne. “I see the way he looks at you, Miss Linscott.”
“Tatum. Please call me Tatum.”