I’ll walk with her on the beach, though, because we should talk, and I know that eyes are watching us. I’m certain Priscilla is watching from somewhere, and I don’t want more judgment today.
I wave my hand, and we head down the path.
The beach was what I loved about this property. I’ve always loved living near water. It was a given that I’d be the brother to choose the beach house. My other brothers live more in-land. Tristan, however, loves the woods. He likes being away from people, likes his space.
As soon as we take the last step down the path, we’re on the beach. It’s a private beach that came with the property. I have two miles of it before it connects with the rest of Redondo Beach.
Gabriella’s hair lifts in the wind. It looks like strands of sunlight. She turns to face me when we get further out.
“Are you going to invite me to the wedding?” she muses.
“We haven’t decided yet who we’ll be inviting.” That’s the nicest anybody will get from me. She knows the answer is no.
“Maybe I’ll get a different invite. I can’t imagine you with an inexperienced girl,” she says and circles me like a cat marking its territory. “I heard she’s pretty,” she states.
“She is,” I answer.
I plan to be very straightforward with her. In times like these, no one can tell friend from foe.
Just because we used to screw around doesn’t mean she’s here to get back in my bed. Or maybe she is. This was how it started in the past. We’d meet and we’d fuck, then we’d leave. Until next time.
“It figures. I always wondered what the Balesteri Princess looked like. Riccardo kept her away from the world. No one ever knew who she was.”
That’s exactly how it was, but most crime families are like that. It’s how I’d be if I ever had a family. I’d keep them out of business. At the first sign of shit, your enemies come for you through your weaknesses. Women and children. In that order.
“You seem keen,” I note, looking her over.
“Relax…” She smiles. “I’m here solely to know if we’ll still be fucking around after your nuptials, or maybe before.” She giggles and tilts her head to the side.
“Gabriella. We won’t be playing that game anymore,” I answer. The smile recedes from her face.
“Oh please, don’t tell me you’ve suddenly turned into the doting husband.” She laughs. “How can you with that sort of shit show for a wedding? Arranged. It’s so obvious. I just don’t know what for.”
I lean in closer, and she laughs.
“You know a lot. Did Riccardo send you to check on his princess?” I ask, boring my gaze into her.
It would be a clever idea since anybody else would have been shot dead before they could get to the door.
“What if he did?”
“Did he?” I demand. My blood heats.
“No. I know what you mafia men are like. It’s always about pussy in the end. I’m just offering it up to you.”
I’m usually good at guessing when people are lying, but thanks to the last few days, my emotions are screwed. From worrying over my brothers and what they think of my leadership to the sexually-charged encounters with Emelia.
“You weren’t offering it well before the news,” I answer, probably showing more emotion than I intend.
I thought about her. I thought about being serious, and she knew I was just before she hopped in bed with Senator Braxton. I’ve never been serious about anybody, but she made me consider it.
That’s probably why Tristan can’t stand her. He knew how I felt. I didn’t have to say it.
The smile that lifts the corners of her mouth is shaky. She raises her hand and touches my cheek, lightly running her finger along the graze Emelia left there.
“Such a beautiful man you are, even when you’re scarred. Makes you look better. I wasn’t into serious then, Massimo. I am now.” She drops her hand and runs it down the length of my chest and down to tug on the waistband of my pants.
I catch it just before she grabs my dick and smile down at her.