Shadow Rider
Page 34
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“Signora Vitale, you’re upset. Please sit for a moment and join us. Have a glass of wine.” There was nothing but solicitation in Stefano’s voice.
He held up his wineglass toward Berta, who clearly had been watching along with everyone else in the restaurant. She hurried toward them and placed another wineglass on the table as Stefano helped the older woman into the seat across from Francesca.
“Signora Vitale, may I present Francesca Capello? Francesca, this is Theresa Vitale, a dear friend of mine.”
Francesca loved how gentle his hands were when they touched the older woman, pushing the glass of wine into her hand and keeping contact with her. More, his voice was soft with affection. She murmured a greeting, knowing the woman barely registered her presence. Signora Vitale’s entire attention was centered on Stefano.
“Drink that and then tell me what has upset you.”
Theresa took the wine in shaking hands and obediently took a sip. Francesca couldn’t imagine anyone disobeying Stefano, not even a woman of Theresa’s age. He might be gentle, but there was no mistaking that he was the absolute authority.
“Perhaps I should leave, give you privacy,” Francesca ventured.
Stefano’s fingers slid around her wrist, shackling her to him. “No. Stay. Please.”
Her heart fluttered at the soft please. He had issued a command to her, but then he’d added that one little word that changed everything. She nodded, and he relaxed his hold on her. Instead of shackling her, the pad of his thumb brushed intimately along her inner wrist.
For the first time, Theresa looked at Francesca, dropped her gaze to Stefano’s fingers around her wrist and then her eyes went wide as she looked at his face. “I’m interrupting something important.” A fresh flood of tears came and she rocked herself back and forth.
“Francesca doesn’t mind any more than I do, Theresa,” he said gently, using her given name. “Do you, bambina?” he asked, his eyes on hers.
“Of course not,” she immediately replied. “Please don’t be distressed.”
Theresa drank her wine and placed the empty glass directly in front of Stefano. Still keeping his hold on Francesca, he obliged Theresa by pouring her more.
“It’s my grandson, Bruno,” Theresa confessed, her voice very low. “He’s in trouble again.”
Stefano sighed and sank back against the booth, his thigh brushing Francesca’s. He brought her hand to his mouth, nibbling on her fingertips absently, as if he had forgotten it was an actual flesh-and-blood hand. The feel of his mouth on her skin was even more intimate than when his thumb had brushed her inner wrist. The ache in her breasts increased and her body responded with more damp heat. His eyes were hooded, impossible to read, but Francesca had the feeling he was exasperated with the conversation, not at all aware of the explosive chemistry she was feeling.
“What kind of trouble this time?”
Theresa took another gulp of wine, looked left and right and then lowered her voice. “Drugs,” she whispered. “I think he’s selling them for someone and I think the police are watching him. He can’t get arrested again. He just can’t.”
Stefano didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Around them, the air got heavier. Darker. Francesca felt the scary vibe he gave off. She knew immediately that Theresa’s grandson was in far more trouble with Stefano than he would have been with the police. Theresa didn’t seem to notice, but the rest of the people in the room did. Heads turned and conversation grew muted.
“What do you want me to do, Theresa?” he asked, the tone pitched very low. His voice was devoid of all feeling. His face was set in hard, implacable lines. Expressionless.
Francesca gently tried to pull her hand away, mostly because she was so aware of him, she couldn’t think straight. His fingers tightened around hers and he bit down with his strong white perfect teeth. The little bite of pain sent a streak of fire straight to her sex. He pulled the finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the bite, soothing the sting.
She froze. He wasn’t looking at her. She wasn’t even certain he knew she was there. His entire focus seemed to be on the older woman.
“You have to talk to him, Stefano. You have to talk to him,” Theresa repeated. “If he gets caught, he’ll go to prison this time. He’s a good boy. He needed a father. My daughter, she was no good. You know that. Always the drugs with her. She just left him, and then my beautiful Alberto died and there is only me. I pray, but God is not listening to me. You have to, Stefano.”
He held up his wineglass toward Berta, who clearly had been watching along with everyone else in the restaurant. She hurried toward them and placed another wineglass on the table as Stefano helped the older woman into the seat across from Francesca.
“Signora Vitale, may I present Francesca Capello? Francesca, this is Theresa Vitale, a dear friend of mine.”
Francesca loved how gentle his hands were when they touched the older woman, pushing the glass of wine into her hand and keeping contact with her. More, his voice was soft with affection. She murmured a greeting, knowing the woman barely registered her presence. Signora Vitale’s entire attention was centered on Stefano.
“Drink that and then tell me what has upset you.”
Theresa took the wine in shaking hands and obediently took a sip. Francesca couldn’t imagine anyone disobeying Stefano, not even a woman of Theresa’s age. He might be gentle, but there was no mistaking that he was the absolute authority.
“Perhaps I should leave, give you privacy,” Francesca ventured.
Stefano’s fingers slid around her wrist, shackling her to him. “No. Stay. Please.”
Her heart fluttered at the soft please. He had issued a command to her, but then he’d added that one little word that changed everything. She nodded, and he relaxed his hold on her. Instead of shackling her, the pad of his thumb brushed intimately along her inner wrist.
For the first time, Theresa looked at Francesca, dropped her gaze to Stefano’s fingers around her wrist and then her eyes went wide as she looked at his face. “I’m interrupting something important.” A fresh flood of tears came and she rocked herself back and forth.
“Francesca doesn’t mind any more than I do, Theresa,” he said gently, using her given name. “Do you, bambina?” he asked, his eyes on hers.
“Of course not,” she immediately replied. “Please don’t be distressed.”
Theresa drank her wine and placed the empty glass directly in front of Stefano. Still keeping his hold on Francesca, he obliged Theresa by pouring her more.
“It’s my grandson, Bruno,” Theresa confessed, her voice very low. “He’s in trouble again.”
Stefano sighed and sank back against the booth, his thigh brushing Francesca’s. He brought her hand to his mouth, nibbling on her fingertips absently, as if he had forgotten it was an actual flesh-and-blood hand. The feel of his mouth on her skin was even more intimate than when his thumb had brushed her inner wrist. The ache in her breasts increased and her body responded with more damp heat. His eyes were hooded, impossible to read, but Francesca had the feeling he was exasperated with the conversation, not at all aware of the explosive chemistry she was feeling.
“What kind of trouble this time?”
Theresa took another gulp of wine, looked left and right and then lowered her voice. “Drugs,” she whispered. “I think he’s selling them for someone and I think the police are watching him. He can’t get arrested again. He just can’t.”
Stefano didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Around them, the air got heavier. Darker. Francesca felt the scary vibe he gave off. She knew immediately that Theresa’s grandson was in far more trouble with Stefano than he would have been with the police. Theresa didn’t seem to notice, but the rest of the people in the room did. Heads turned and conversation grew muted.
“What do you want me to do, Theresa?” he asked, the tone pitched very low. His voice was devoid of all feeling. His face was set in hard, implacable lines. Expressionless.
Francesca gently tried to pull her hand away, mostly because she was so aware of him, she couldn’t think straight. His fingers tightened around hers and he bit down with his strong white perfect teeth. The little bite of pain sent a streak of fire straight to her sex. He pulled the finger into his mouth, his tongue curling around the bite, soothing the sting.
She froze. He wasn’t looking at her. She wasn’t even certain he knew she was there. His entire focus seemed to be on the older woman.
“You have to talk to him, Stefano. You have to talk to him,” Theresa repeated. “If he gets caught, he’ll go to prison this time. He’s a good boy. He needed a father. My daughter, she was no good. You know that. Always the drugs with her. She just left him, and then my beautiful Alberto died and there is only me. I pray, but God is not listening to me. You have to, Stefano.”
