The door closed.
Mira walked out of Eve’s room and into her own. She observed him. He didn’t look her way at first. He shed his sports coat and his massive shoulders and arms filled the black silk shirt he wore. The strong muscular definition of his back quickened her pulse. His stance emphasized the force of his thighs and the slimness of his hips. Giovanni’s head turned, his piercing blue eyes connected with her from over his shoulder.
“You missed dinner,” she said.
He sat on the edge of the bed and removed one shoe then the other. “Couldn’t be helped. Come here Bella. I’ve missed you today.” He had a commanding voice that made his request sound more like an order than he probably intended. Either way she resisted. Instead she crossed her arms and faced off with him. She was a bit irritated, and now she knew why. Catalina had told her that he’d taken a mistress. That she’d be some kept wife while he split his time between her bed and that of some whore. The idea of it made her sick with jealous indignation.
“Something wrong?” Giovanni gave a weary sigh.
“Yes. I said you missed dinner. I thought it was tradition that we eat together. You didn’t call or say you would be late.”
“Carrisima, I apologize. Don’t be angry. I’ve looked forward to seeing you all day.” The warmth in his smile echoed in his voice. His jaw clenched. “Now come to me.” He extended his hand.
“First, I have a question.”
Giovanni lowered his hand.
“Do you or have you ever had a kept woman, a mistress?”
His expression stilled and grew serious. His eyes were sharp and assessing as was his tone. “Where is this coming from?”
“Catalina told me that men, lots of men around here and in your family keep mistresses. Do you plan to keep one?”
A faint light of understanding twinkled in the depths of his blue eyes. He cocked his head to the right and his gaze lowered to her feet making a slow climb to her breasts. She felt an internal heat move through her body with the seductive way he swept her appearance. Was he actually turned on by the accusation? No. He couldn’t be. His gaze smoldered with desire and a sly smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “Why would I want another woman? When you give me everything I need.”
“That’s not an answer,” she swallowed down her nervousness. She walked toward him. She wore a peach sweater dress and brown camel hair ankle boots. She stopped before him, and he ran both hands around her calves forcing her to part her legs and come to him. She complied by straddling his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed with her knees pressed into the mattress. She kissed his brow and stroked the side of his jaw. His head tilted back and she kissed his nose. His face was centered at the crease of her breasts.
“My mother was a mistress. It was a miserable existence for her, and she wasn’t the only one. My father had several. Madre was shamed to her grave to be a kept woman. His wife wouldn’t even let her sit at the front of the church at his funeral. Even I couldn’t change her suffering.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” she kissed his lips.
He dropped his face in between the cushions of her breasts and pressed his nose close to the beating of her heart. “Catalina and I are her bastards. We could not bury her next to my father. I would never take a whore. The woman in my life is going to be my wife, the mother of my children, my friend, my lover…” he rubbed his face against her breasts. “That woman is you, Bella. Only you.”
“I accept.”
“Never question my love or my commitment to you, and I will never give you a reason to question me. I swear it on our future babies, on my life.”
“I won’t.”
He slowly lowered back, and she captured his lips into a forgiving kiss. His hands roamed up and down her spine before going lower. He cupped both halves of her butt cheeks and squeezed.
“Ti amo, Giovanni,” she said.
“Ti amo alla follia.” I’m crazy in love with you, he answered.