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Beatrice’s skin had flushed to match her dress. It made his hands itch to hold her.
She was the one who moved to his side, even though her scowl matched Vespa’s as she aimed it at him. “Shouting it from the rafters?”
“Pretty sure I already did that.” He leaned into her, lips brushing her ear. “I shouted so loud with how hard I came, both our ears were ringing. You remember?”
Vespa sighed. “You still suck at whispering.”
He straightened with a shrug. “I’m an open book anyway.” He was still feeling giddy, even with his wife’s eyes snapping at him. “I mean, it’s not like I bragged to you, Ves. You were the one who called me out for being chipper.”
“You’re like a goddamn Energizer Bunny today.” Vespa headed toward the door, waving a hand at him. “Do something about that, will you?” she told Bea. “I’ll tell the boys about the change of location.” She shut the door behind her.
Beatrice’s annoyance had fallen away, along with her embarrassment. Instead of a giddiness that matched his, her face looked tense, and her eyes were shuttered again.
“Hey, no.” He wanted to pull her against him. Instead he lifted a hand to stroke back her hair; he was relieved when she didn’t flinch. “You don’t have to do anything. I’m just happy. Not about the sex. We could never have sex again, and I would love you.” His smile felt wobbly as his skin itched from saying it. “I do. I just love you, Bea. That’s what’s making me bubble over.”
Beatrice blinked at him. “How many times are you going to say that?”
“That I love you?” Saying it again made her look like a deer caught in headlights. It was fucking adorable, nothing like the remote expression she’d worn moments ago. Montrell kissed her nose, unable to resist. “Every chance I get. Unless that bothers you?”
She leaned into his chest, and the itching tingles multiplied at the gesture. “It’s kind of embarrassing,” she mumbled.
He wrapped his arms around her, giving her a squeeze. “Never. Will it really bother you?” A slither of guilt snaked in. “I can try to curb it. I suck at not saying what’s on my mind, but I’ll do my best if you hate it.”
Beatrice sighed, giving him one of her gentle kisses. “I don’t hate it. I just…” She frowned as her mind did its thing. Montrell buffed her arms, content to wait for her to decide. “Maybe only around the Coronellas?”
Her saying that convinced him she was already thinking of his men as family. “Fuck, I love you.” He pulled her tighter against him. As he did, he felt the new tension taking over her body.
Her face tilted back, and she searched his eyes. There was worry in hers. “I’m not the same as you. I won’t say it all the time.” She was back to biting her lip. “Do you… need me to?”
“No forcing yourself.” When she looked away, his gut churned. “Hey, look at me.” Her eyes returned to capture his. He hated that they shimmered with tears. “It’s like with sex. You can never say it again, and it doesn’t matter. I know now. I’m not going to doubt it.” He smiled at her. “Like everything else, my ego is big. I don’t need your constant reassurance, Bea. I love you as you are.”
“There it is again.” But her small smile had returned, the one that squeezed his chest every time he saw it. “You’re constantly reassuring me. Isn’t that a bit unfair?”
“I like to.” His hands were back to buffing her arms. He wondered if his need to touch her was going to be a problem, but her hands came up to press to his shirt. She wasn’t flinching from his touch, so he told himself not to overthink it. “Does it bother you?”
“No.” She played with one of the buttons on his dress shirt. “I like it,” she admitted. “I like everything about you.”
Montrell couldn’t contain his grin. “I thought so.”
“There’s that ego.” The small, joyful sound she made returned all the bubbles from before.
He linked his fingers with hers. “Come on. We’re having the meeting at the restaurant. After, it’ll be lunchtime, and Giulia can feed us and the boys.”
Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Is Giulia aware of this?”
“No. But she’ll love it,” he said, tugging her toward the door. As he did, he appreciated the way she never left his side.
Montrell had many memories of the restaurant. He’d practically grown up there, mainly because Giulia wanted to keep him away from the estate as much as she could. He loved the family feel of the furnishings, and he had often run meetings out of there since he’d taken over the Coronellas’ business.
Yet it was the memory of his date with Beatrice that kept replaying in his mind, distracting him. He’d done himself no favors by eating her out on top of one of the tables. The fact that they weren’t gathered around that particular table didn’t matter.
It wasn’t only the sexy part of their date that was distracting him either. He remembered Beatrice’s sad expression as she let herself be vulnerable enough to tell him about her scars.
Her current giddiness as she led the discussion as his consigliere was a powerful comparison. Oh, she looked professional and confident, but he was understanding her better and could read the glint in her eye. Beatrice was happy.
It was a balm for his soul. His wife was healing.
The vibration of his phone wasn’t welcome, not when he had better things to look at. He was expecting a call from Di Salvo, so when another name was shown on the display, it took him from the heights he’d been experiencing all day and grounded him in the mud.
