Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 31582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 158(@200wpm)___ 126(@250wpm)___ 105(@300wpm)
“Thank you.” Anabelle blushes, making me laugh because she’s actually nervous. I wink at her and take a drink from my glass, which is now empty. Wow, I’m getting pretty damn bubbly.
“I brought some wine,” Mrs. Fiore says, pulling a bottle out of her bag.
“I like your way of thinking,” Anabelle says.
“Fantastic. Wow. Is this from your vineyard?” I ask.
“It is. My nephew is the owner now and continues with our family vineyard in Sicily.”
“You have a nephew?” Anabelle asks. I knew that, but I haven’t met the handsome Soren yet, who is a little younger than Fabio and Franco.
“Yes, she does, but he’s too young for you,” Fabio growls, entering the kitchen almost as if he’s been listening in.
“He’s twenty-five, Fabio,” she tells her son. I feel bad for Soren because he’s not going to know what hit him other than Fabio’s fist.
“So he’s a year older than us. I want to meet him.”
“He had to run an errand. He’ll be back later.” He mumbles something under his breath and I can’t make it out, so I ignore it and pour Mrs. Fiore a glass of wine.
“Thank you, dear. Come join us in the living room. I’d love for you to meet my husband and the rest of the family, including Soren who happens to have returned from his errand.” She does air quotes, and I have to choke back a laugh. So he hasn’t left yet? Fabio’s totally interested in my sister. I follow her out, grabbing my phone and setting the timer for when I have to go back into the kitchen and cook.
My eyes find Franco first, as if I’m automatically drawn to him. He stands in a darker corner, looking as if he’s a predator stalking his prey. I walk up to him first, needing to hear him speak to me. “Why don’t you introduce me to your family? Since you are the host, after all,” I add. I don’t know all of them, including another older couple. The older woman looks just like Mia. That’s where she gets that Irish look from. The rest of the family almost look identical. It’s clear that Franco’s father and uncle are brothers.
“Everyone, I’d like to introduce you to the love of my life, Isabelle Jones, soon to be Fiore.” He smiles down at me and adds, “Isabelle. You know my parents, Maria and Marcello, but this is my uncle Soren and my aunt Linda. You haven’t met my cousin Soren.” He glares at them and announces, “See this ring? She’s taken, so don’t even think about it.”
“I suppose he’s already locked her down. What about you, beautiful?” Soren says, winking at Anabelle.
“She’s spoken for as well,” Fabio declares.
“No. She’s not,” Soren challenges, giving me a wink.
“He’s right, Fabio. I don’t belong to anyone.” Anabelle rolls her eyes and polishes off her glass of wine. Shit, she’s a nice and sweet drunk, but she rarely ever gets wasted, and this wouldn’t be the best time for her to be drinking. I don’t know what’s going on between them, but something happened.
“We’ll see,” Fabio grunts under his breath. Damn, they are going to be tearing at each other’s clothes by tonight.
Chapter Eleven
Franco
I’m lost when it comes to the conversation, unless it’s Isabelle speaking because all I can do is stare at her. My eyes haven’t left her pretty mouth as she speaks. I’m too busy thinking about holding her for the rest of our days. The day has been nice and romantic until my family arrived. Not that I’m complaining because this is what I’d been upset about missing, but with Isabelle so close, I ache to touch her until we end up naked again.
“So do you two have any more siblings?” Soren asks. She doesn’t, but I already knew that from the information I dug up on Isabelle a long time ago during one of my many stalking days and nights.
“No. We’re the only ones. Our parents had a hard time conceiving, so we came later in life and as a huge surprise. They’re retired now, living in Florida,” Isabelle explains. They’re both almost seventy. From everything I gathered, they love their girls so much, but the weather isn’t conducive to their aging bones. I can’t say I blame them. Since the injuries, the cold air causes a bit more pain, but I think my body is getting used to it.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I say, leaning in and brushing my nose along her neck. She doesn’t move away even though we’re in front of company. Instead, she turns to me and grazes my chin with her pillowy lips. I hear a low muffled sound, coming from the sofa.
“Sorry, everyone, but dinner is calling. I need to finish prepping,” Isabelle says as she pulls her phone from her back pocket, sliding the alarm off and jumping up from the sofa. Standing as well, I pull her into my arms and plant a quick kiss on her soft lips, eliciting a moan from her.