When she lifted her lashes, Taviano was looking at her with that focused stare that always made her stomach do a slow rolling pitch that ended up with a million butterflies taking wing and fluttering, so that she wanted to press her hand there and give it away that he was wreaking havoc on her body with just a look. He was dangerous to women and in particular, to her.
“What?” she demanded.
“I like that Crispino makes you feel that way. You dance with him.”
“How did you know?” she demanded. She did, all the time. “You’re never there when I dance with him.”
“Piccola, Stefano has security cameras everywhere, you know that. He has apps on his phone so that at any given moment he can see his boy and know that he’s safe. We make certain you’re safe at all times. You have always known this. We’ve never hidden that from you.”
His voice was gentle. That velvet moving over her skin. She didn’t know if he spoke to everyone like that or just her. Maybe she was the only one who actually got that sensation when he talked in that low voice, but it was so real it was physical.
“I just forget,” she admitted. “I’m glad Stefano watches out for Cristo that way.” She’d shortened the baby’s name right away, and Lucia and even Francesca called him Cristo, but the men in the family rarely shortened his name.
“He likes you to dance with him, but Stefano said the other night when he was fussy, he was forced to do some dancing to put him to sleep.” Taviano sounded pleased with that. In fact, he smirked a little. “All of us are hoping Francesca managed to get a video of that.”
“You know she did.” Nicoletta couldn’t help laughing. “Stefano’s going to give me another lecture. He’s always telling me that Cristo needs to be able to soothe himself to sleep and I shouldn’t dance or cuddle him to sleep.”
Taviano’s smile faded. “Don’t let him fool you. He still rocks that boy to sleep sometimes if he wakes up more than once in the middle of the night. He did all of us when we woke up. Is he giving you lectures? Harsh ones? Because Stefano can sound harsh even when he doesn’t mean it that way. If he does, Nicoletta, I’ll have a word with him.”
That sounded ominous. More than ominous. By his tone, he was upset with Stefano just at the thought of him lecturing her, which was ridiculous, since Taviano did it all the time. Well … until that night. Since then, he’d kept his distance. He had a temper, and she didn’t want him at odds with Stefano, especially over her. Not with the Ferraros always being so good to her and to the Faustis. She knew they made her foster parents’ lives so much easier, and she appreciated everything they did for them because she loved Lucia and Amo so much.
“Stefano has been wonderful to me, Taviano. He doesn’t really mind me dancing around with Cristo, he just likes to sound all tough when he tells me that he has to do it because of me. He loves getting up with his son in the middle of the night. Francesca says any alone time he gets with that boy is his favorite time because he’s always so busy.”
“I believe it. He took care of all of us when we were little. Our parents weren’t much on babies or toddlers,” Taviano disclosed. “It was always Stefano who changed diapers and fed us bottles or comforted us in the middle of the night. God forbid a Ferraro child dare have a nightmare, or not know how to use a toilet at birth.”
Nicoletta put her hand on his without thinking about what she was doing. She never thought in terms that Taviano might need comfort, that he might have come from an imperfect situation, because he seemed so omnipotent. He was always so completely uncaring about what others thought of him. He didn’t seem to need anyone at all. The moment she touched him, she realized what she’d done and started to pull her hand away. He covered her hand with his, pressing down, holding hers trapped between his.
“You’ve met Eloisa. She’s as cold as ice.”
Taviano, like the rest of his brothers and his sister, rarely called his mother by any other title than Eloisa, her given name. They referred to her in public as “mother,” but Nicoletta had been around them in private too long not to catch on to the fact that to the siblings, she was always Eloisa.
“I thought she was just that way to me.”
“No, she’s that way to everyone, her sons included. She’s worse to Emmanuelle and even more so to her daughters-in-law. She saves her venom for you because you mean something to all of us and she knows it.”
She wasn’t touching that one, either. There were just too many things Taviano was alluding to, and she couldn’t keep up with him, or even have hope. He’d totally shot her down once, and that had been enough to shatter her heart. She wasn’t going there again. She couldn’t and keep her hard-won confidence. She had been around him and his family for three years. In that time, no matter how big a fool she’d made of herself, or how much she’d hated herself for what had happened to her, the Ferraros had been patient with her.
Taviano had never told anyone of her conduct that night. He could have. He could have told her foster parents. He could have told his family. He had never changed his patient ways with her. Or his caring. He had been careful not to be alone with her, and truthfully, that hurt, but she understood and even was grateful. She had made changes, studying the way she should have. Listening to the counselor and trying to implement what was said. Putting her trust in Lucia and talking things over with her when she found herself particularly upset and having nightmares. Opening herself to loving again. And that meant herself as well.
She had to find her own strengths and weaknesses. The Ferraros had offered to train her in self-defense, and she’d taken them up on that offer. That meant getting close to their family, and she wasn’t sorry about that. They took her in and acted as if she were a part of them. They didn’t hold back at all—other than Eloisa, who treated her with the utmost disdain, but she was never at Francesca and Stefano’s penthouse, which was where Nicoletta went for training. She only ran into Eloisa when the woman came to visit Lucia.
Nicoletta was in love with Taviano. It wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t just about him saving her life. There was a difference in the way the Ferraros were in private with their family and the way they appeared in public. She was always treated like family. Always. She saw the real Taviano and she loved everything about him. How gentle and kind he was. How he could get that flash of temper that could erupt and burn hot and go away just as fast, so that he was laughing. The way he held his nephew so gently, whispering to him, laughing, pushing a stroller down the street, and later, holding his little hand.
Taviano sat on the floor and played instruments with Crispino or raced little cars, sometimes rolled balls across the floor. It didn’t matter what kind of toys his nephew wanted to play with, he was ready, and he had infinite patience. She loved that about him. All of his brothers and Emmanuelle appeared to be the same, but she could never quite take her eyes off Taviano when he was with Crispino.
Nicoletta also loved his relationship with Emmanuelle. The two often laughed together. All the brothers were protective of their sister. She envied Emmanuelle that at first, but then realized they seemed equally as protective of her. Then she became aware of a deep sadness in Emmanuelle, and she found herself growing protective of Taviano’s sister for no reason she really understood other than she seemed very sad at times.