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  He wanted to say yes. He wanted to give her that big church wedding—and he would. But there wasn’t going to be anything bogus about this wedding. “This wedding won’t be fake, piccola. We’re getting legally married. We’ll file the papers, and then go home and let Francesca and Grace plan our big event. Grace is all into that. You can give all the input you want. You tell them what you want, and it’s yours. Go all fairy tale if you want. Hell, I’ll dress up as Prince Charming in those silly striped white tights for you, but this isn’t going to be an Elvis-slash-bogus wedding.”

  “You’re so lying right now. You would never in a million years dress up as Prince Charming in white or striped tights.”

  “Okay, I am lying about that,” he conceded. “It’s not good when my fiancée can hear lies.” He pushed out of the chair and went to the bedside stand to open the drawer where he’d placed the small jewelry box. All along he’d thought to ask her to marry him. Of course, he’d been planning to ask her officially. He’d all but told her that this was the end of her freedom, so she needed to enjoy it while she could.

  His cousin Damian Ferraro, from New York, was a very talented jeweler who made very special jewelry designed to be able to go into the shadows. He was famous for designing the perfect ring for an unseen, unknown lady. Taviano hoped he had created magic for Nicoletta. Like his brothers, he hadn’t looked to see what Damian had made for his woman. He’d been a little afraid to see.

  He brought the small jeweler’s box out just to make it official. Because Nicoletta didn’t have many things good in her life, he went down in front of her on one knee and opened the box with his thumb, shifting it so she could see inside.

  “I’m asking you officially to be my wife, Nicoletta. I want you to marry me and spend your life with me. I promise I’ll spend the rest of my life doing my best to make you happy.” It was a lame proposal because looking at her robbed him of speech, which didn’t seem possible.

  He wanted to give her the world. Take away every bad memory she had and replace it with something good. She thought she was in little pieces, scattered on the ground. He’d heard her say that once when she’d torn up a photograph of herself Lucia had taken. She’d been crying and she’d called herself trash. She’d burned the image and placed the ashes of the picture in the trash can “where she belonged.” He’d hated that. Now he couldn’t even give her a proper proposal because she left him without words. But she liked the ring. He saw that on her face. It was a flawless dark indigo blue diamond. Like his eyes. The stone had a lush elegance to it. He could have passed it off as a sapphire with its fiery sheen, but the cushion-cut diamond, set in a platinum band, was too rare and beautiful to be compared with anything on the market. She would be unable to wear the engagement ring in the shadows, but the wedding band was made of a special alloy she would always keep on her finger.

  “Taviano.” She barely breathed his name.

  “Say yes.”

  “I can’t wear that.”

  He took it out of the box and pushed it onto her finger. It slid on easily, just the way he knew it would. Damian had a way of knowing, without ever meeting the woman who would wear the ring. The stone looked perfect against her skin. She looked down at her hand and then up at his face.

  “You need to say yes, tesoro,” he coaxed.

  “I said yes, but I’ll say it again. Yes, but—”

  He leaned in and brushed a kiss across her lips to stop whatever she was about to say. Yes was just fine with him. He knew she was afraid she wasn’t going to be good enough. He knew she would be. He had his own secrets. His own past. He was no saint. She’d have to live with that.

  He took her hand and pressed a kiss over the ring. “Franco just said we’re going to be landing. Let’s do this, and then we’ll face Stefano.” He hesitated. “One more thing. The wedding band stays on your finger. This comes off before we take to the shadows, so in an emergency, if you’re wearing it, you’ll have to get rid of it.”

  She shook her head. “Taviano. No.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time to think of plans just in case, but you have to keep that in the back of your mind.”

  She pressed her other hand over the ring. “Maybe the ring is magic, and it will protect us. It feels as if it could be.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  What the hell were you thinking, Taviano?” Stefano snapped, glaring at his youngest brother. “You could have killed her. Instead of sitting on the couch with you right now, you could be carrying her out of a tube in your arms dead.”

  It was easy enough to see that the head of the Ferraro family was furious. Nicoletta curled closer into Taviano, uncertain whether she was doing so in order to protect him or have him protect her. She had seen Stefano angry, but never like this. His rage radiated throughout the room—not just the room, it filled the entire penthouse apartment. She was afraid even that gigantic space couldn’t possibly contain the fierce emotion and it would leak downstairs and affect the people staying in the Ferraro Hotel.

  Taviano glanced down at her the moment she moved into his rib cage, and his arm dropped from the back of the couch to her shoulders. The heat from his body seeped into the cold of hers. He had a way of always calming her when she wanted to run. He didn’t seem that affected by his brother’s wrath, not the way she was. She wanted to find one of the shadows and try to hide herself, even knowing the toll it would take on her. That made her feel like a coward, but she didn’t like raised voices—especially men’s raised voices.

  “He’s not angry with you, piccola,” Taviano explained, his voice gentle. He dipped his head so his lips were close to her ear. “Our brother Ettore didn’t make it out of the shadows. It was Stefano who found him. He has every right to be angry with me. The risk was very real.”

  “But I’d done it before.” Nicoletta lifted her head, forcing herself to meet the fury in Stefano’s eyes.

  It was difficult to be surrounded by all of the Ferraro brothers at once. Even though the room was very spacious and extremely luxurious, warm with Francesca’s homey touches, having all of Taviano’s brothers around her took discipline not to panic. She knew being in close proximity with too many men was still a trigger for her. She’d discussed it often with the counselor, and how she could best handle that and hopefully overcome it.

  “When I was a child, I sort of played in the shadows, not riding them, or really hiding in them, but I was really drawn to them and would jump in and out of them, always feeling that weird pull on my body. That wasn’t the same, but I think maybe in a way it prepared my body for the feeling of being in the tube.”

  She had played often, and even as she got older, she couldn’t stop herself from jumping in and out of the shadows, like a child playing hopscotch. She’d felt silly, but it had been a compulsion.

  “Then, after my parents died and I was given to my step-uncles, when I was taking a shower and I heard one of them coming for me, I inadvertently found myself hidden from him. He called to the others and they hunted for me, but they couldn’t see me.”

  She detested talking aloud to the entire group of Ferraros about what had happened to her. It was too personal. At the same time, she would do anything to make things right for Taviano.

  “I didn’t realize that I could move in them, but I did it accidentally. Once that happened, I tried to do it deliberately.”

  She detested that Taviano was being yelled at because of her. He didn’t show hurt or anger, nor did he try to defend himself, even when he knew his career was on the line. She wanted to defend him. At the same time, she could barely breathe.

  She wanted to go home, get to Lucia and Amo. Emmanuelle was there, and Mariko sat quietly with her hands folded neatly the way she did, looking graceful and poised. Two women. That helped, but Nicoletta really wanted to be away from there. Away from all of them—even Taviano. Especially Taviano. She wa
s beginning to sweat, although she felt cold and clammy.

  There was silence after her statement. Stefano’s dark blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her skull into her mind, into her soul, where he could see things she didn’t want him to find. Taviano’s arm tightened around her, and she realized she was shaking. She hadn’t lost it in the shadows. She hadn’t lost it when there was gunfire. She couldn’t make a fool of herself and lose it with his family.

  She’d been to this penthouse hundreds of times. She’d played with Stefano’s son. She’d worked out in his training hall with his brothers—all the men in this room that she was now so nervous with. What was wrong with her that she was so close to a full-blown panic attack? She knew them. She liked them all. They’d been good to her. Protected her.

  She wiped at the sweat on her face and tried to take a breath, but her lungs felt raw and burning. Her vision blurred. There were too many men surrounding her. Too many of them.

  Stefano leaned toward her, his dark eyes steady on her face. “What do you mean you’ve done it before? You actually went into the shadows deliberately, Nicoletta? You knew you could hide there? Not be seen?”

  She nodded. Desperately drew in air, taking a deep, quick breath. The pressure in her chest increased, her heart pounding to the point that she was afraid it might burst. She pressed her hand hard against her breast and forced herself to answer. “Yes. When I was a teen, they came for me when I was showering, and I was terrified. The things they did to me . . .”

  Now she couldn’t breathe. She could barely see. Her vision had tunneled until everything was going black with the exception of Stefano, who was straight in front of her. “Taviano.” She whispered his name, her fingers twisting in his shirt, gripping him tightly as she had in the shadows, terrified she would make a fool of herself, panicking in front of his family.

  Instantly he was crouched in front of her, his forehead pressed against hers. “Just breathe with me, Nicoletta. It’s just you and me. Breathe. Tutti qui sono famiglia.”

  She found herself looking into his eyes. Taviano. She loved him. She detested him. He wrapped her around his little finger. She adored him. He made her feel safe. She breathed with him because she would do anything for him, and he was asking her to breathe with him. She knew enough Italian to know he was saying everyone there was her family. She also realized he’d said it deliberately in Italian because he wanted her to distinguish between his family and the ones claiming to be her family who had been so abusive toward her.

  Once she was able to breathe again, she slipped her arms around his neck and held him for a moment, gathering her strength before facing Stefano and his brothers. They were intimidating men when they were on their own, but together, they were a force. Taviano slipped back onto the couch beside her as if nothing had happened, his arm once again sliding around her shoulders.

  Nicoletta lifted her chin. “I still have panic attacks when I’m in close confines with several men. I’m sorry, it just happens out of the blue and I can’t seem to control it. It doesn’t always happen, and I’ve worked on it, but my counselor says that it might continue to happen for the rest of my life. I’ll keep trying to get on top of it, but who knows if I’ll be able to.”

  “It was probably Stefano and his God-awful temper,” Vittorio said.

  Nicoletta sent him a small smile, not quite daring to look at Stefano to see how he took that little dig. She couldn’t control the color rising in her face. She was embarrassed that she had to admit she had panic attacks when the Ferraros seemed to be so perfect and confident. Apparently Taviano was going to be the one stuck with the “flawed” wife. Eloisa was going to have a field day with that one.

  “Francesca is always on me about my temper,” Stefano admitted. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, Nicoletta. Going into the shadows is dangerous. If you aren’t trained properly, it can take a toll on your body. More importantly, you can get lost there.”

  She nodded. “I was well aware of that. The one time I did move accidentally, I was hiding from my step-uncles and I found myself from one side of the room to another place, and I didn’t know how I got there. It was very disorienting. They were angry with me when they found me, and the consequences were very brutal, but I was so sick and feeling so lost, as if I wasn’t all there, that the things they were doing to me didn’t really register until afterward. In a way, the consequences were a blessing. I wasn’t as afraid as maybe I should have been.”

  There was silence after her declaration, and she felt the rising tension in the room, that sudden flare of anger tamped down in Taviano and reflected in his brothers. She glanced up at his face for a sign of what she was supposed to say to ease the tension in the room. She was at a loss with all of them.

  Taviano’s fingers found the nape of her neck and began a slow massage. She sat very still, not knowing exactly what to do. No one had ever touched her like that, and the feel of his fingers on her bare skin, pushing into her muscles and nerve endings, sent a heat wave through her. It was a kind of slow seduction of the senses. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time.

  “Relax, Tesoro. Stefano might choose to eat me, but you will go unscathed in all of this,” Taviano whispered into her ear, amusement in his voice.

  The touch of his warm breath added to the feeling of seduction, and that little undertone of amusement created an intimacy between them. She imagined that was what it was like between two people who really were in love. His lips actually brushed against the lobe of her ear, feeling cool and firm, sending a roller coaster crashing through her stomach.

  “Were you aware that we were shadow riders?” Stefano asked, his voice pitched very low. Again, his gaze was fixed on her face. He looked suspiciously very hawklike.

  If Taviano’s strong fingers hadn’t chosen that moment to settle around her neck possessively, and there was no other word she could think of to describe the feeling, she might have run from the room. Stefano was expecting the truth. She was well aware that every one of the Ferraros was like her, they could hear lies.

  “Yes, at least suspected,” she admitted. “I watched all of you and the way the shadows swallowed you up. The time the truck tried to run Ricco or me down, one of us, and he pushed me out of the way, he was so fast, too fast. I watched him quite a bit after that. I was fast like he was when I did things. I have a memory that few others have. I can hear lies. I have these strange gifts, and all of a sudden there were others that seemed to have them. Of course I paid attention. I saw whenever you disappeared into the shadows. And I remembered you taking me through one of the shadows to the plane when you were getting me away from my step-uncles.”

  “And yet you said nothing,” Stefano said.

  She ducked her head. “I loathed myself. And you. And Taviano. You knew what they’d done to me.” She whispered it, feeling the grasping hands on her body. The way they forced themselves on her, the pain of the intrusion. The laughter as they brutally used her again and again, switching places so casually.

  Taviano stroked his fingers gently on her face. “Piccola, who is your man? Your compagno? Your marito? Look at me. See only me.” Very, very gently, he framed her face with both hands and turned her toward him. “Open your eyes, Nicoletta, and see me.”

  She lifted her long lashes because she was used to doing what Taviano asked of her. He was the one man in the world she trusted when she wouldn’t trust any other. There he was with those dark blue eyes of his, looking at her as if she were the only woman in the world. She had no idea how he could do that—focus so completely on her—but he always did. She couldn’t help but smile at him. She couldn’t help the way her heart reacted with that instant joy. She adored Taviano. No matter how often she told herself she was going to get her heart broken if she didn’t protect herself, she couldn’t stop the overwhelming emotion he produced in her. It just spilled over, like some volcano welling up out of nowhere.
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  “This is going to be your life with me, you know that, don’t you?” She cupped the side of his face, hating that he had been forced to marry her. That he had known three years earlier and had been helpless to do anything about it. She had always wondered why he had been so angry. He’d been abrupt with her, those dark blue eyes so moody, his handsome face never quite facing her when all the other Ferraros did. Their shadows had twisted together, and he’d been caught in a trap, just as surely as men had been caught in years gone by when girls had purposely gotten pregnant. She hated that for him.

  He leaned into her, covering those scant inches between them, and brushed a kiss across her lips, trailed more kisses down her cheek to her shoulder. Light. Gentle. Barely there. She felt his mouth like a hot promise. He might as well have pressed a fiery brand straight through skin and muscle and etched his name into her bones forever.

  “Dio, Taviano,” Stefano snapped. “I’m supposed to be passing sentence here. You’re tying my hands.”

  Taviano sank back against the leather couch, taking Nicoletta with him. She couldn’t help noticing the others smirking a little as they exchanged looks with one another. She didn’t quite understand what that all meant, but she knew those looks were at Stefano’s expense. He was both sibling and parent to his brothers and sister, and it wasn’t always the most enviable position to be in. Right now, she felt a little sorry for him.

  “Nicoletta is famiglia.” Stefano pinned his youngest brother with a stern eye.

  Immediately Nicoletta felt the difference in the room. All humor was gone. Whatever Stefano was about to say, he meant business; all of them were listening, and every single one of them, Taviano included, would abide by what he said. She slipped her hand into Taviano’s and tightened her fingers around his, willing to show him support as best she could.

  “She’s loved by all of us. You claimed her three years ago, so yes, you have that first right to her, but she is famiglia. We do not fuck around with famiglia. We don’t take chances with famiglia. Never with our women. I will admit, there were extenuating circumstances I was unaware of. The fact that Nicoletta had already been in the shadows and was experimenting on her own—which, by the way, is extremely dangerous and is now forbidden to you, Nicoletta.”