Becoming His Wife by Hayley Faiman

Chapter Thirty-Four

MACI

Tiziano wasn’t kidding when he said that I would ache from him the whole day. It hurts to do anything. The hard chair at the kitchen table makes me whimper just looking at it. Tiziano is sitting out on the balcony, staring out at the cityscape ahead of him.

I’ve showered and dressed for the day, though I have a feeling that I’m going to need to go shopping soon because my clothes are only getting tighter and tighter with each passing day. Slipping outside, I make my way toward him.

Silently, he reaches out his arm as I approach. Slipping my hand in his, I stand next to him, but it’s obvious he wants me closer. He tugs on my arm and I fall across his lap with a cry. He chuckles, but I let out a moan as my center slams against his thigh.

He touches his lips to the side of my neck before he murmurs. “Sore?”

I don’t say anything right away, choosing to press my lips together instead. He laughs softly, wrapping one of his arms around my belly. Wordlessly, I shift my gaze to the cityscape and watch the world with him.

“It’s calmer up here,” I whisper.

He hums. “It is.”

“What is going to happen today?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“I thought you were going to your father’s men?”

He shakes his head. “I need to take care of my wife a bit,” he murmurs. “I’ve neglected you long enough.”

“What are your plans?” I ask.

He shrugs as I readjust to sit up, turning my head to look into his eyes. He smiles as he watches me for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, but there is something mischievous in his gaze.

“Today we remarry, then I’m going to spend the day spoiling you.”

Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head. “I don’t need to be spoiled, Tiziano. I don’t care for it much.”

He laughs softly. “Only because nobody has done so for you before,” he announces.

He’s not wrong. The only time I have been spoiled, if that’s what you even want to call it was when Mia had me pick out things for my wedding and Pippa took me shopping. I don’t count that though, it was essentially me being sold to him, and that is not spoiling, not even if he bought me a bunch of stuff.

“So what are your plans?” I ask.

He hums, touching his lips to my shoulder. “Courthouse, then clothes. I’ve seen you wear the same things more than once and they’re growing tight. I went through your clothes and you have about five outfits. You need clothes, zuccherino.”

I could act offended, but he’s right. My clothes are too tight and I only have a few outfits to speak of. Basically, the things I wore on my honeymoon, and a few business-type outfits that Pippa insisted she buy me for work, though I have a feeling that Salvatore or Gavino actually bought them. I didn’t argue, because I needed them.

“I have money for clothes. I can buy what I need. I just haven’t really been allowed to go anywhere,” I murmur.

Tiziano snorts. “My wife buys nothing that is a need with her earned money,” he states.

“Then what do I do with it?” I ask.

He shrugs a shoulder, pulling me closer to him, wrapping his arms around me and holding me in a firm hug. “If you wish to buy yourself something you want, a special purse, something frivolous, whatever.”

“Tiziano, that doesn’t seem fair.”

He shakes his head slowly. “Had you not been kidnapped, had I not been a pussy and stayed in Italy for far too fucking long, you wouldn’t have been working at all. I’m your husband, I’m your man, I provide for you. What I provide is everything.”

Pressing my lips together, I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and nod my head once. I can’t argue with him, not over something like this. I don’t ask for much, I don’t need much.

All I want is for us to be happy.

If he wants to buy me some clothes every now and then, who am I to complain? I’ll just buy what I want, when I need it, to keep him from spending too much.

I’m not sure if my thoughts are manipulative or wrong, but I also know that we are no longer owner and owned. Our relationship is exponentially different. As he explained—we are partners now. And I wouldn’t want it any other way, it’s a dream really.

“Tiziano?” I exhale.

He hums, his nose sliding along my shoulder. “Maci,” he rasps before he lifts his head to look up into my eyes when I don’t answer immediately.

“What happens with us?”

He arches a brow, confusion written all over his face.

Licking my lips, I try to express my question. “What happens when you decide that you miss Mia. Once we’re married, there’s no leaving for me. You’re allowed to do as you wish, right?”

His eyes widen and anger flashes in them before he schools his features and speaks again. “Why do you think I hold intimate love for Mia, zuccherino?” he asks, his voice calm which does not match the anger in his gaze.

I want to answer him, I want to tell him that no man who answers a phone call of a woman on his honeymoon with someone else, doesn’t have feelings for said phone call woman. I don’t. I feel like we’ve exhausted the conversation enough. At least right now.

Instead, I shrug a shoulder, not wishing to get in the middle of a conversation about it all over again. He watches me for a moment, but doesn’t say anything else. He clears his throat, shifting his head forward before he touches his lips to mine.

“Get ready to leave. I’m going to prove to you, Maci, that there is nothing between me and any other woman. There is only you.”

“Until there is someone else,” I whisper.

He grunts, pressing his lips to mine and giving me a hard, bruising kiss. “There is nobody else, there will not be anyone else. There is you for me. I want this, I want you, I want our child—I want us. Nothing else matters.”

I want to believe every single word that he says. I want to believe it all, and I decide that I’m going to. There is no reason for me to sit and think about what might happen in the future. I’ve never been in control of my life as much as I am now, I’m going to just let it ride out and see what happens.

Tiziano’s hand rests against my belly and he rubs me there, a few small circles. “I will fight for this child, for us. I may have not done so great of a job in the beginning, but I’m never going to allow another person to separate us again, Maci.”

Tears fill my eyes, and I blink them away at his beautiful words. Lifting my hands, I cup his cheeks and shift forward, touching my lips to his. “I’m falling in love with you, Tiziano,” I admit.

“I’m glad for that. I was afraid you’d be scared of me, of the man that I am becoming.”

Keeping my lips against his, I don’t make a move at all to shy away from him. Sliding my tongue across his bottom lip. “Nothing about you scares me, Tiziano. Not even a little bit.”

He grunts, then wraps the hand that is not pressed against my belly around the back of my neck, and he kisses me. He deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue deep into my mouth and tastes me. I whimper, arching my back and silently begging him to touch me everywhere—even though I ache.

Tiziano breaks the kiss, nibbling on my bottom lip, he breaks the kiss and looks me in the eye, his gaze full of desire and fire.

“Go get ready. We leave in ten minutes, zuccherino.”

“Okay,” I breathe.

TIZIANO

Under normal circumstances,I would be bored as fuck right about now in the afternoon. After a quick marriage, turning in our paperwork and saying our vows for a second time, just the two of us, I take Maci out to lunch, then we shop.

I’ve never been one to care about clothing and shopping. I order my suits from the same shop, my measurements on file and just tell them what color I want, typically charcoal, navy, and black.

As much as I wish to look nice, clothes just aren’t important to me. I trust my personal shopper to match my shirts to my suits and throw in some ties. I’ve never had any issues and it makes the whole process fairly painless.

This is different though. Maci needs clothes for her growing belly, a belly that is full of my child. Watching her try on maternity clothes doesn’t feel like a chore at all, perhaps because it’s all brand new. I’m not really sure and right now I’m trying not to overthink it.

“Do you know what you’re having yet?” the salesgirl asks.

I hum, shaking my head. “I don’t.”

I’m not sure when those things are discovered, but the way the girl eyes me, I wonder if I should know this already. I realize in this moment just how much I have already missed, and it hits me, if it were up to my father, I wouldn’t know anything about this at all.

I push down the anger, not wishing it to rise inside of me. He’s gone, the past is done and over with, and I’ll never let anything like that happen to us again.

My phone rings and I realize it’s still the fucking burner I’ve had since I arrived. I really need to get my old phone back up and running. Touching the answer button, I stand and walk away from the salesgirl, instead, turning my back to her and focusing out the window of the store.

“I haven’t heard from you,” Elio says.

I smile. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve heard his voice and I’m a bit surprised over his concern. I knew that we became friends, but I thought that once I left Italy he would move on with his life and be unconcerned with mine.

“I’m sorry, shit has been crazy,” I admit.

“Did you take care of business?” he asks.

Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at the woman who slips from the dressing room, a stack of clothes in her arms—my woman.

“I’m almost completely finished with business. I’m married again, I’m having a baby, and as soon as I make the announcement, I’ll be the boss of my famiglia.”

“So the previous boss is taken care of?” he asks.

“He’s retired,” I grumble.

He chuckles. “I know I should not say this, because he was your father, but good. You deserve your happiness, Tiz.”

“Come on vacation, stay with us, meet my wife, bring your crew.”

“Di Stefano would probably jump at the chance for all of us to come. He’s been vocal about wishing to visit and meet in person with Gavino.”

“Make it happen, Elio.”

I see Maci make her way to the counter and place her items down. It’s my cue to appear and pay for everything, because if I know her, she’ll try if I’m not standing right there. Ending the call, I turn and hurry toward her, practically throwing my credit card at the cashier.

It doesn’t take her long to check out and package everything up. Gathering the bags, I guide Maci out of the store, but I don’t head to the car.

“Where are we going?” she asks as we continue to walk down the sidewalk.

Shifting all of the bags into one hand, I slide my other hand around her hip. I squeeze her as we continue to walk slowly down the street. I’m in no hurry at all, today is for her and nobody else. She has clothes to get her by for a little while, we’re officially married again, and now we’re going to shop a little for the baby.

Stopping in front of the baby store, I turn and gently push her inside. “What’s this?” she asks on a gasp.

“Furniture,” I murmur.

Maci doesn’t move, instead she turns her head and looks back at me. “Furniture?” she gasps.

Nodding, I jerk my chin toward the door in a silent urge for her to continue inside. “The baby will need somewhere to sleep, no? Or do you want to wait until you know the sex?”

She licks her lips, rolling them together a few times. She looks at the door, then back to me. “We can take a look, it wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Smiling, I dip my chin and touch my lips to hers. “We can look, zuccherino.”

She faces the door and tugs it open. I grab ahold of it as she continues through before I follow her inside. The shop is full of cribs and dressers, all pint-sized, and I can’t help but smile.

Our child will be here soon and sleeping inside of one of them. I can’t wait. I don’t think I’ve ever been as truly excited for anything as I am for this.

Maci must feel that same excitement, because it’s as if I’ve been forgotten and she starts walking around quickly, looking at everything, practically bouncing on her toes as she does. She stops in front of one of them.

The crib is a deep gray in color, a rectangle shape, with the slats all the way around. It is very simple, very clean, and perfect. I don’t want to tell her that it is exactly what I would choose though, I want her to pick what she wants for our baby.

“It’s perfect,” Maci whispers. She looks up at me, tears swimming in her eyes. “I love it.”

“Then it’s yours,” I say.

She shakes her head. “I don’t even have to look at the price to know that it’s too expensive. We can go somewhere else.”

I snort, lifting my hand to cup her face. Sliding my thumb along the apple of her cheek, I watch her for a long moment.

“It’s yours, zuccherino.”