Deep (The Pagano Family Book 4) (33 page)

 

He was only gone a minute or two, and when he was back, he had a small box in his hand. He came into the kitchen and led her out to sit on her sofa. She loved this white sofa. Without it, she might not have been sitting here with Nick Pagano on his knee in front of her.

 

“I’ll say it in Italian, since you like it so much when I do.
Bella, con te voglio passare la mia vita. Sei tutto ciò che voglio. Il mio cuore è solo tua
.
Sei il mio sole. Sposami.”

 

Italian was so pretty. She didn’t know most of the words—though she heard the one about being his sunshine many times and loved that above all—but she knew what he’d said was beautiful.

 

He opened the box. Inside were two rings. The band of the engagement ring was delicately ornate, slender twists of rose gold rather than a solid band. Tiny diamonds were scattered around it. A large diamond solitaire in a tall setting dominated the center, and around it, in a separate setting, a ring of small diamonds. Like a halo around a bright sun. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. The wedding band seated next to it was a similarly delicate band of diamonds.

 

She looked up and met his eyes. “
Si
is yes, right?”

 

He grinned. “
Si
.”

 

“Then I won’t say yes. I’ll say
si. Si, si, si. Ti amo.

 

 

~oOo~

 

 

Much later, they lay naked and sweaty in her bed. With her head pillowed on his broad chest, Bev listened to the steadying thrum of his heart and let herself drift. He was playing with her new ring, his fingers caressing hers around it.

 

“I want kids with you,
bella.
But if you do, there’s something you should know.”

 

She stopped drifting. She thought she’d even stopped breathing.

 

“I’m not an only child. Not really. I had an older sister and a younger brother. They both died on the days they were born. From the same thing. Anencephaly.”

 

Bev rose up onto her elbow. “Oh my God, your poor parents. Your poor mother! Anencephaly…that means—”

 

“Their brains didn’t develop. It nearly destroyed my mother, especially after my little brother died. It fucked my parents’ marriage up for a long time. I knew more about that than a kid should, because my father told me once when he was weepy and drunk that my mother wouldn’t sleep with him anymore. Ma is devout, and they didn’t use birth control. She knew she wouldn’t survive it happening a third time, so she turned him out of her bed. He kept a
comare
for the rest of his life.”

 

“Are you saying it’s genetic? That could happen to us, too? But you’re okay.”

 

“I am. I’ve done some research. It’s not supposed to be genetic. Everything I read says that it’s very rare that it happens at all. That it happened a second time to my mother is unheard of. But I don’t know. Maybe it
is
genetic, and they just don’t have a test for it yet. You should know that before we decide to have kids.”

 

Bev lay back down on his chest, and he began to caress her arm, making long sweeps up and down with his big hand. “Whatever you decide,
bella
.”

 

She thought. He wanted children. They could make a family. But what would she do if she lost a child in such a way?

 

That was borrowed trouble, though. What she knew was that he was a strong, smart, big, gorgeous, physically perfect man who loved her. They would be married. And the odds were bright that they would make a perfect family. If she was wrong, then that was a trouble for then.

 

“I want children. A house full. And I want a house. I want a garden. What do you want?”

 

“To make you happy.”

 

She rose back up on her elbow. “No—stop that. What do you want?”

 

He grinned and rolled over, putting her on her back beneath him. “I want as many children as you can pop out. I want to watch you be a mother, and I want to lift children I made with you onto my shoulder and show them the world. I honestly don’t care where we live, as long as it’s in or near the Cove and I’m not surrounded by pink walls and lacy cushions. I’d like a style compromise. If you want a garden, that’s great. I want a cellar with a screening room and a pool table. I like pool. Actually—I do care where we live. I want to be close to the beach. I like to watch the water.”

 

“Oh. Wow.” He was describing a perfect life. “What about religion?”

 

“Catholic. Baptized. Not negotiable.”

 

She knew that one, and it didn’t matter to her. From her point of view, Catholicism seemed as cultural as it was spiritual, and asking Nick to let his children not be Catholic would be tantamount to asking him to let them not be Italian. She wasn’t deeply invested in any particular way of expressing her own faith, so she wouldn’t mind if their children expressed his.

 

There was one cultural marker that did scare her and might be a deal-breaker on the parenting front. It seemed strange to bring it up now, when he was lying on top of her and she could feel his erection pressing into her skin, but he’d started the conversation.

 

She was going to make him angry, though. There was a good chance.

 

“I don’t…I wouldn’t…” She sighed and started over. “I’d have trouble if our sons…” She couldn’t say it, so she gave up. Closing her eyes, she ducked her head against his shoulder.

 

But he knew where she’d been going. “I would never have married an Italian woman. Do you know why? This is a question you can ask about my business.”

 

She peeked up from his shoulder and looked sidelong at him. “Why?”

 

“It’s a tradition in my world that only full-blooded Italian men can rise in the ranks. Half-blooded men can be made, but they can’t rise above
soldati
—soldiers. I thought someday I’d change that, but I won’t. So not even a Pagano could rise within the Pagano organization if he was half-blooded. I want my sons to find other paths. I don’t want this life for my children.”

 

Feeling giddy and weepy at the same time, she hugged him close and kissed his chest. “I love you so much.”

 

He laughed. “See? Was that so hard?”

 

She reached between them and wrapped a hand around his big, beautiful cock. “No. But this is.”

 

Spreading her legs to settle him more squarely between her thighs, she guided him close until he took over and pushed into her. She was still a bit sore from earlier, but it was one of her most favorite feelings, that shift from tender soreness to intense pleasure. As he began to thrust, staring down at her, she brought her legs up and around his waist and hooked her hands over his shoulders.

 

“Marry me soon,
bella
, he groaned.

 

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes,” she panted before pleasure and joy made speech impossible.

 

~ 23 ~

 

 

On the November morning of their wedding, Nick woke feeling buoyant. He rolled over, intending to pull Beverly close and sleep a little longer. Or push her over onto her stomach and take her. Yeah, that was a much better idea. One more time before she was his wife.

 

But she wasn’t in bed. Disappointed, he sat up, and then he smelled coffee and something baking. Bread, maybe—no, something sweeter. He tossed the comforter back and grabbed his boxer briefs off the floor.

 

There had been a chill in the bedroom, but the rest of the apartment was warm. Beverly was in the kitchen, wearing her white robe open over an old nightshirt. He’d bought her lace and satin, silk, even some leather. And she’d worn it all, beautifully. But she loved her shabby, terrycloth robe and her ridiculous t-shirts.

 

He’d come to find them sexy.

 

She looked up and saw him leaning on the hallway wall, watching her, and she smiled brightly. “Good morning! I just put cinnamon rolls in the oven.”

 

“Cinnamon rolls? How long have you been up?” He crossed the room and came into the kitchen.

 

“Um…since about three-thirty. I’ve only been baking for about half an hour. I did some thank you cards before that.” Gifts had started coming in more than a week ago.  She hadn’t been able to wait to open them. The guestroom in his apartment was stacked with household goods.

 


Bella
.” He laughed and pulled her away from the sink, where she’d started to rinse her baking dishes. “We have a long day today. You need rest.”

 

They were getting married in the late afternoon, then a formal dinner and reception. There would be no casual, barefoot reception for his bride, and not only because it was November. He wanted this day celebrated for the wonder it was. Someday, she would be Donna Pagano. Today, she’d be his queen.

 

“I know. I’m too excited. But I’ll lie down for a little at your mom’s house.”

 

All the Pagano women and Beverly’s friend Skylar were meeting at his mother’s to get ready. Beverly’s mother had not returned phone calls or replied to her invitation.

 

Uncle Ben was walking Beverly down the aisle.

 

Nick was due at Uncle Ben’s, where the Pagano men were gathering. The tradition was to get the groom drunk, but the men would be disappointed in that endeavor today.

 

Her hair was caught back in a big plastic clip. He took the clip out and tossed it on the counter, then fluffed her waves over her shoulders. “See that you do. I don’t want you falling asleep in your wedding cake tonight. I have plans for you for later.”

 

“You do? What kind of plans?” She slid her hands up his bare chest, leaving tingling tracers of desire behind. He’d had a mind to fuck his woman when he woke up, and he hadn’t changed that mind.

 

“Surprise plans. But I’m gonna need you wide awake to appreciate them. So promise me—a nap today.” He kissed her throat, sucking lightly until she moaned and curved into him.

 

“I promise.”

 

“Good. How long do those muffins bake?” He lifted her t-shirt and slid his hands over her smooth, warm skin.

 

“Rolls.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

“Forty minutes.” She kissed his chest, running her tongue across his pecs and down to flick back and forth on his left nipple.

 

With a harsh groan, he pushed his hands into her hair and pulled her head back. “That’s plenty of time. I want you back in bed. I can get you off at least three times before breakfast.”

 

Her eyes flared wide at that. “I thought you wanted me to be rested.”

 

“I do. I’m gonna make
sure
you take that nap later.” He picked her up and carried her back to bed.

 

 

~oOo~

 

 

Nick sat alone in a room off to the side of the nave at Christ the King. He was still a little buzzed, but not too much. He’d found himself much more amenable to all the toasting from his cousins than he’d expected. He was in a damn fine mood. And now he was waiting, alone.

 

He’d sent Matty, his best man, out because the asshole was driving him crazy, checking his pockets for the rings every fifteen seconds, like he was paranoid that Nick would slit is throat if he lost them.

 

Actually, Nick wasn’t so sure that was paranoia. But he hadn’t lost the rings…yet.

 

Yeah, he might slit his throat if he lost them.

 

For the last time in his life, he was alone. He closed his eyes and took a breath. Everything would be different. In moments, he would marry. Tonight, he would give his wife a wedding gift. Tomorrow, he would take her to Italy and Greece for their honeymoon. And then, when they came back, their life would be different.

 

There was a light knock on the door.

 

“Come.”

 

His mother opened the door and peeked in. He smiled and stood. “Hi, Ma. You look beautiful.” She really did. She looked elegant and regal. He went over and led her all the way into the room, then kissed her cheek.

 

She beamed at the compliment and smoothed the skirt of her long gown. “Thank you, Nicky. I just wanted to let you know everybody’s here. We had a little drama with Bev’s dress, but it’s all taken care of.”

 

“Is she okay?”

 

“She’s fine,
caro
. We had to take her dress in a just hair at the last minute. She’s lost a little bit of weight since the last fitting. But everything’s fine, and she is a vision to behold. That dress—my word. She looks like Grace Kelly.”

 

He’d paid for the dress, but he hadn’t yet seen it. Beverly had been adamant that the first time he’d lay eyes on it would be when she was standing at the end of the aisle.

 

He’d thought she was losing weight again, but she’d been happy and light, and he hadn’t noticed her skipping meals. Then again, she’d been working long hours at the bookshop, and doing planning for a five-hundred-guest wedding in barely more than two months. He hadn’t been with her all that much.

 

His mother fussed with his tie. “You’re a vision, too. Her handsome prince.”

 

Seeing her eyes get moist, Nick put his hands on her shoulders. “Ma, don’t.”

 

She dabbed at her eyes. “I’m your mother, Nicolo Pagano. If I want to cry at your wedding, I will. I want to say something right now, and I know I’m going to cry, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.” She took his hands in hers. Her wedding and engagement rings glittered on her left hand. His parents had had a complicated, volatile marriage with a lot of heartbreak and pain. But they had loved each other fiercely, even through the worst of it.

 

“I’m so proud of you, Nicky. You know that?”

 

“I do. Thank you.”

 

She shook her head. “It’s not a compliment. It’s the truth. You are such a good son. You saved me. From the day you were born, you saved me. You’ve always saved me.” Letting go of one of his hands, she cupped his cheek. “You were strong when I wasn’t. You were strong for me and for your father. You’ve been strong for us since you were too young to be.” Her tears topped over.

 

He pulled his face away. “Ma, no. Stop.”

 

“Today, I want you to remember. I loved your father since I was a girl. I love him still. And he loved me. But I don’t want you to be a husband like he was. I want you to be a good husband like you’ve been a good son. I don’t want you to bring your business home. I don’t want you to let pain poison love. Treasure her, Nicky.”

 

He was angry and offended. He’d lived most of his life with the mission to take what was good about his father and learn from the bad. To be a better man. And he certainly would be a better husband. He didn’t need his mother to tell him to treasure his wife.

 

But she was crying and trying not to smear her makeup. He was her only surviving child, though she’d wanted a big family, and now she lived alone in a big house. And she had borne the weight of his father’s weaknesses.

 

It was his wedding day. Instead of telling her off, he hugged her. “I will, Ma. I already do. I’ll treasure her until I die. And I’ll always take care of you.”

 

 

~oOo~

 

 

“Where are we going? Did you book us a suite somewhere?” Beverly sat at his side in the limousine, her enormous white skirt covering his legs and the entirety of the seat. His mother had been right—she did look like Grace Kelly. Her lace bodice and this gigantic, embroidered satin skirt glittered in the passing streetlights. Hundreds of little crystals were sewn into the embroidery.

 

Her hair was done up in a wide bun, circled by a crown, and his mother’s sapphire and diamond earrings sparkled from her lobes. She was indeed his queen, and her wedding had been fit for her.

 

“A suite? Something like that.”

 

“You’re just not going to tell me, are you?”

 

“Nope. Maybe you need a lesson on the word ‘surprise.’”

 

She laid her head on his shoulder. The little crown dug in, though, to his shoulder and apparently her head. She sat back up straight. “I’m so ready to get out of all this stuff.”

 

“You’re beautiful, though. Just spectacular.”

 

She grinned and plucked at her skirt, making the crystals twinkle. “It really is pretty, isn’t it?”

 

“The dress is lovely. But I can’t wait to get you out of it.
You’re
the vision. You glow.”

 

“It took three people to get me into this thing. There are buttons everywhere. I’m not sure you’re up to the task.”

 

“Sounds like a challenge.”

 

“Are you up for it?”

 

“I am.” He pulled her hand to his crotch and showed her.

 

The limo stopped. Beverly peered through the windows. “Where are we? Not a hotel.”

 

“No, not a hotel.” The driver opened the door, and Nick stepped out, then turned around and held his hand out for her. She took it and, after some negotiation with the miles of satin and lace she was wearing, got out and stood at his side.

 

She looked up, her forehead creased. “Okay. Is it still a surprise? Because I don’t get it.”

 

They were parked on the circular drive of a large, two-story, shake-shingle house at the top of a hill. It wasn’t Greenback Hill, but it wasn’t far from it. The back of the house faced the ocean. The beach was at the bottom of a fairly steep rise of sand and beach grass—all the sea sounds, the sea view, but none of the beachgoers to invade privacy. But Beverly didn’t know all that yet. Right now, they were looking up at the front of the house. All the lights were on.

 

“It’s empty.”

 

“Mostly, yes.”

 

She scanned the front of the property and then saw the real estate broker’s sign. “Oh, my God. Did you
buy
this?”

 

“No. I rented it for the night. I wouldn’t buy a house you hadn’t seen and agreed to. But I think you’ll like this one, so all the papers are ready, and the seller has already agreed to my price. If you like it, it’ll be ready for us when we get back from our trip.”

 

“My God.” She turned that fantastic smile on him. “You’re amazing.”

 

“So are you,
bella
. So are you.”

 

Then she frowned again. “Wait. We’re spending our wedding night in an empty house? That’s…I don’t know.”

 

The driver had their bag in his hand, and Nick waved him up and took it from him, then sent him on his way. They’d have no more need of him tonight. “Not exactly empty. Come see.” He took her hand and led her to the door.

 

Once inside, he ushered her forward. “We can poke around to your heart’s content in the morning. Right now, follow me.”

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