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Matteo glared at Rafe, who glared right back. They were his brothers. He could understand their concern for him, couldn’t he? He’d express the same sort of worry for one of them if he felt the need to. Hell, he had in the past. He hadn’t been supportive of Vincenzo’s marriage to that model who he rarely spent time with. He wondered why they were married at all.
And he hadn’t understood Rafael going along with an arranged marriage that their father and the girl’s father had set up years ago. It was downright archaic, yet Rafe seemed perfectly content with the prospect of marrying the girl. Matteo had even tried to get him out of it once their father had died, just so he wouldn’t feel forced to make such a major change in his life by marrying a girl already chosen for him.
Rafe had outright refused the offer, which baffled Matteo to no end.
“Things happen,” Matteo bit out, pissed that he had to explain himself. “People have feelings for each other they can’t always control. That I’ve developed feelings for Paige and she just so happens to be Matty’s nanny, well, it couldn’t be helped. We’ve spent a lot of time together these last few months.” Not enough for his tastes, he realized now.
“Playing happy household in the city is not the way to grow a relationship, Matteo,” Vince muttered.
“As if you can judge me. When was the last time you slept in the same bed as your wife, hmm?” Matteo sneered, hating that they pushed him to this.
Vince’s cheeks turned ruddy. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Stop, both of you.” For once, Rafe was the voice of reason. Strange. “We just don’t want you to end up with a woman who’s not good enough for you, Matteo. We watched it happen once. We don’t want to see it happen again.”
No one would ever forgive him for marrying Lucia. Settling heavily on a bench that overlooked the ocean, he studied the majestic view, the rays of the sun warming his tense shoulders. His thoughts were jumbled, full of his brothers’ concern and worry.
Countered with images of Paige. The last few days had been wonderful with her. He’d taken her all over the city, exploring the mountains, the historic buildings and secret alcoves that only natives knew of. He took her and Matty to the beach, where they splashed on the shore, Matteo’s gaze unerringly going to Paige’s slender body in the skimpy two-piece swimsuit she wore again and again. She stood out with her pale, freckled skin amongst a crowd of olive-hued, sun-bronzed Italians, her fiery red hair in stark contrast amongst the mostly dark heads that surrounded her.
She was beautiful. Sweet, and with lips that were ripe for kissing—which he did plenty of, never in front of Matty, of course. They didn’t want to confuse him, not yet. But at night, after Matty went to bed, they left him in Matteo’s mother’s care and Matteo would take her out for a late dinner, where they would talk and eat and drink plenty of good wine. Her cheeks would turn rosy and she’d become more open with him, reaching across the table to clasp his hand. Reaching beneath the table to run her bare toes against his leg.
And when they would return to the villa he would kiss her in the car, in the front alcove of the house, outside her bedroom door. Long, drugging, deep kisses with plenty of tongue and whispered words filled with promise. Wandering hands slipping beneath clothes, though he never took it too far. He needed to gain her trust. Make her believe he wanted her and that he wasn’t going to push her away.
He needed to convince himself of this as well. Old habits died hard. He’d grown accustomed to pushing all women out of his life after Lucia’s death, with the exception of his mother and sister. That he was slowly letting Paige into his life and his heart was a monumental event.
“Paige isn’t Lucia,” Matteo finally said when he realized they were waiting for his reply. “She’s a completely different type of woman. And we have a completely different type of relationship.”
“I should hope to hell so,” Vince retorted as he settled on the bench beside him. “I know my marriage isn’t perfect, so I probably have no room to talk, but we worry about you. You weren’t the same after Lucia’s death.”
No, he wasn’t. He’d withdrawn from the world almost completely, throwing himself into his work even further, if that was possible. Only giving what little precious free time he had to his son and no one else. He’d moved away from Italy, moved far away from his family and never looked back. He saw Stasia on a frequent basis only because she wouldn’t let him get away with hiding. Thank God for her stubbornness.
Now, he was full of regret. His brothers’ concern made him realize just how much he needed them around, in his life. Matty needed his uncles and especially his grandmother, as well as his aunt. The little boy needed his family.
