A Dark Sicilian Secret(27)
His finger lingered on the tight, taut nipple.
She inhaled quickly at the sharp stab of sensation between her thighs. “Not for me,” she said.
“Why not?”
She took another quick breath. “I was angry. Little girls do not dream of marrying in secret, shameful ceremonies on airplanes.”
“Shameful?”
“There were no witnesses. No family. No friends. Our son wasn’t even there.”
Vitt’s hand fell away and his brow furrowed. “The goal wasn’t to have a formal wedding, but to join us together. The goal was to protect Joseph and give him my name.”
“I understand. But you asked me why I didn’t wear something more festive, and I told you. I didn’t feel good about our wedding. It didn’t feel right.”
He studied her for a long moment. “What would have felt better? A church wedding?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t think you were religious.”
“I was raised Catholic.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked.”
For a long moment he said nothing. Then he rose and paced the room silently for several minutes. Finally he paused and looked at her. “The vows are binding, regardless of where we said them.”
“I understand.”
He frowned at her, clearly uncomfortable. “But you were disappointed by our ceremony?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
“You used the word shameful.”
“It just felt that way. It was so…rushed and hush-hush. We don’t even have any pictures to show Joe when he’s older. And I can’t help but think that one day he’ll want to know how we met, and what our wedding was like. How will he feel when we’ve no wedding photographs to show him?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Vittorio said, moving to the narrow sideboard to pour himself a neat shot of whiskey.
“I know. I’m just being foolish. Not all weddings are music and candles and flowers with your friends and family gathered around. And just because I imagined a certain kind of wedding doesn’t mean I needed it. Joe is what’s important. Joe should be our only concern—” She broke off as the jet suddenly shuddered in a pocket of turbulence.
Holding her breath, Jillian watched the water slosh wildly in her glass. For several moments the jet bounced, up, down, up, down, and the glass and bottle on the table rattled and danced toward the edge of the table, and then just as abruptly the turbulence ceased.
All was smooth again but Jillian’s heart still raced. “I hate turbulence,” she whispered, mouth dry.
“It’s over.”
“I know, but I still hate it.”
“But if we didn’t have turbulence, we’d never appreciate a smooth flight.”
Their dinner was a strange meal, an almost painfully civilized meal, with Vittorio playing the role of attentive host. They discussed only safe topics—their mutual love of Turkey, favorite European cities, the stunning Dalmatian coast as if both were determined to put their best foot forward.
Could they really start fresh? Could they make their relationship work?
“We’re not entirely incompatible,” he said just moments later, as if he could read the emotions flitting over her face. “We both like sex and apparently still enjoy it together.”
She felt as though he’d dashed cold water over her head. “And that’s enough for you?”
His dark eyes met hers. “It wouldn’t be, but we also have Joseph and we share responsibility for him.”
And that was a terribly important responsibility. Jillian couldn’t imagine anything else ever being so important. “Yes.”
Vitt continued to hold her gaze. “Maybe another ceremony wouldn’t be a bad idea. Maybe we should renew our vows at the chapel, and include our families. It would be good to have them on our side.”
“They won’t be now?”
“No. Not entirely.”
“Why not?”
His mouth quirked. “You’re not Sicilian.”
They left the small elegant dining room for the staff room and found Joe happily playing with a set of toy cars with one of Vitt’s bodyguards. Maria watched from an armchair nearby.
Looking at Joe it struck Jillian that in Vitt’s world Joe was royalty. He was treated like a young prince. Protected. Pampered. He was the heir to his father’s throne.