DELUCA

FOURTEEN

Sometime in the evening, Francesco had convinced himself to be selfish. His entire life was him being selfless, going to whatever lengths he could take to ensure the people he cared about were okay.

He'd even killed for them all and would do it again if asked. He had spent long enough feeling guilty for feeling attraction towards Eleanor. He had time to get himself out of the situation and now he was in it, permanently.

He still hadn't convinced himself that he was hopeless in the situation. Yet, instead of looking at it like that – with the help of Giuseppe, Francesco looked at it as an opportunity. No matter what, since Eleanor had crossed his path, she would have his protection.

Even her family was overseas, the selfish part of him lied to his brain telling him to keep her safe she needs to be close.

It had nothing to do with her safety, at least not for the past week. Now, he found himself wanting her close in all circumstances.

There was something about Eleanor that drew Francesco in. He was used to seeing the dark and ugly side of the world, hardening him over time. Then he laid eyes on Eleanor.

When he spoke with her, he felt no deceit in her eyes. She spoke her mind, almost to a fault as if she didn't know that Francesco had killed many for less. The danger wasn't an option in her eyes.

Since her arrival, Francesco found himself seeing the world through her eyes rather than his jaded perception. The house he had felt was a prison of responsibility, Eleanor called it a dream castle.

She called his family difficult but caring when in reality they had secrets that could rip them apart, secrets that caused tension every time they were together.

She had even managed to point out the differences in his personality, something a woman like Jemma would never see due to her constant personal motives. When Francesco was himself around Eleanor, he wasn't seen as weak. She had even stated she liked the more personal side of him.

Francesco refused to let his lifestyle harden Eleanor. She was quite honestly the flower blooming from concrete. He would prove himself worthy of Eleanor, but until then he couldn't touch her.

As much as he admired her personality and mind, her body drove him crazy. Even now, he was strolling through the city, something he would never do out of safety. No matter how high his stature was in life, he wasn't bulletproof and he had plenty of enemies.

As he spent the day in the city, purchasing whatever had attracted Eleanor's eye, he couldn't help but look around warily fearing that danger could be at any corner.

It was a lifestyle he'd been used to, but the way Eleanor strolled along so oblivious worries him. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this life, the girl had been floating on cloud nine since they'd left the house.

Though, it did please Francesco immensely to see a genuine smile on Eleanor's face. It lit up at some of the smallest things. This wasn't Francesco's first time taking a beautiful woman on an unlimited shopping trip.

In the past, he had done it intentionally to remove any inhibitions that spending a weekend with him would entail. He'd meet a beautiful girl, after a night of pleasure he'd take her shopping and dote on her until she bore him. Then he'd send a parting gift along with the excuse of being too busy for a relationship afterward.

This was not that. Now he was spoiling a woman he wouldn't be rid of until death does them part, which he didn't mind. He knew Eleanor married him for financial reasons, but she was far less demanding than what Francesco was used to.

He had to pay attention to what she liked because she had never asked. It had gotten to the point where Francesco believed she was purposefully not looking at items in the shops to prevent him from purchasing.

Whenever she would insist, she didn't need something, he would easily change the subject with a simple kiss on the forehead and point her in another direction of a shop.

Of all the things Eleanor picked out Francesco had to suppress a laugh, he'd walk her past every designer, but she would stop in a novelty store and willingly spend nearly an hour.

The small shop owners were so thankful for her presence that they spent most of their time talking as Eleanor stumbled through the Italian words. Even at the moment, Francesco was fascinated.

How lucky could he truly be? If something so right for him were to come along, something wrong would surely soon follow.

"Again, you're not listening." Eleanor stopped in front of her husband. The warm air left Francesco with a slightly reddish hue as he began to tan before her eyes. He wore his usual casual wear with a pair of sunglasses to hide his eyes.

"I am listening, but does every sentence require a response?" Francesco tried not to complain, but he found it difficult to keep up with Eleanor's words. He had never outwardly said it, but his English had been nothing but okay. Average.

It was always enough to speak with the native Italians who only spoke English now and then. But Eleanor was a smart American woman, her vocabulary often left Francesco a bit confused until he'd been able to catch on to her meaning.

At no point had it bothered him; he could listen to whatever she said in any language. But in the stuffy hear, and lack of food, Francesco wouldn't be able to decipher his language soon.

"Yes, the ones ending in questions," Eleanor said. Her face was pinched as she looked at Francesco with a hint of annoyance.

"You're telling me you miss the beaches of California, and you wish you could go out on the water." Francesco said, repeating her words nearly verbatim, "I always listen to you, Eleanor."

Eleanor was slightly embarrassed for snapping at the man who had done nothing wrong. Francesco's aloof nature had made him come across as uncaring at times, not meaning that he was.

Francesco nudged Eleanor towards a shop that had been recommended to him unfortunately by Jemma. Eleanor, not knowing where she was anyway, followed Francesco inside, holding the door for him as they entered.

When the shop assistant saw him, her eyes widened before she discarded whatever she had been working on.

"Monsieur Deluca! I haven't seen you in here in a while." Norma had a warm smile with aging marks on her face. The dress shop had been one of Jemma's favorites and Francesco had spent many a fortune inside. At least today the person he was shopping for actually mattered.

"Norma, it is good to see you." Francesco sat the bags of their purchases down near the door before walking over to Norma, leaving Eleanor to continue to look at whatever had just caught her eye.

"I am looking for a gown for my wife."

"You and Jemma married? I wasn't aware."

Francesco quickly cut her off, not wanting to explain yet another story to Eleanor. "No, my wife Eleanor." He turned to her; her name being called drawing her attention.

She walked towards them and gave Norma a charming smile.

"Toutes nos felicitations!" Norma exclaimed her congratulations, "You are perfect to style."

"Style?" Eleanor asked in confusion.

"I'm having Norma find you a dress for tonight's event," Francesco explained. Norma walked away, excusing herself to find a selection leaving Francesco and Eleanor alone.

"Tonight's event? You didn't mention an event."

"It was planned for months and unfortunately, I can't reschedule."

"And you're going to get me a dress from here? I am sure I already have..." Eleanor looked at the large amount of bags on the floor, "...something to wear."

"You bought a bunch of tourist items to send home." Francesco pointed out.

"I haven't seen a dress with less than five digits. Francesco, you can't just keep spending money."

He laughed as if she told a joke, "I can, and I will."

Sensing that his words would only send Eleanor into another fast-talking frenzy, Francesco quickly sobered. "Mi dispiace, I am just not used to someone being so worried about how I spend my money. You'll learn that this dress will not financially ruin us."

"That is not the point." Eleanor said, "Dresses don't need to be this much. It is a waste! I don't have anywhere to wear more than once, we can go somewhere else."

She took his hand and tried to drag him from the store, but Francesco stood firm. "Can you let me take care of you without complaining for a moment?"

"Can you listen to me for a moment?"

"I always listen to you."

"Okay, then we can leave right now," Eleanor said like she had won the battle.

"I said I will always listen, not obey." Francesco was tired of this game now. He pulled Eleanor to him, and where she was once tense, she immediately softened, a reaction he would never get enough of.

"Once dressed, one night, no thinking. Is that possible?" Francesco inquired.

Eleanor contemplated it for a moment, immediately breaking his request but Francesco let whatever wheels in her head churn.

"Fine, one condition."

Francesco wasn't used to compromising, "And what would that be?"

"You can't see the dress until it's time to leave," Eleanor said.

He was momentarily dejected at the thought. He was more attracted to the idea of watching her change from dress to dress until they found the perfect one. But he knew if he was given an inch, he couldn't take a mile.

"Fine."

Eleanor stared at the woman looking back at her in her reflection. She hardly recognized herself nowadays. She never had many chances to dress up but now she was constantly in her best dress.

Norma had done a number on her, making share she could do her hair before she left the shop.

Norma was a woman of a vision, and she picked out every accessory needed for that night. It had appeared she had known more about the event than Eleanor had, picking out every piece with it in mind.

Eleanor carried the bag back to the home with Francesco who was oddly nosy about its contents. If only he had known the total...

It still made her uncomfortable when he would toss around his money, especially when she knew how he was making it. She wondered how much of his blood money had been used today.

As much as she tried her hardest not to think of it, Eleanor would find herself looking at Francesco and wondering what horrors his eyes had seen. He had seemed so...normal when he was with her. He would make jokes; he would even be tender and vulnerable in some moments.

He was incredibly smart, obviously in some moments he had known his effect on her. She always found herself looking for ulterior motives in all of his actions, but she couldn't find one where he would benefit.

Eleanor knew she couldn't move forward with Francesco without some truth. Eleanor also knew that Francesco was at his weakest when he saw her in a dress he couldn't refuse. Tonight, she hoped that would be the case.

If logic and speaking with him wouldn't work, her femininity could. And femininity was exactly what Eleanor was showing that evening. She had opted for a silver sequin gown that trailed to the floor, mimicking her wedding gown.

It was her honeymoon after all.

The V cut dipped past her breast showing a considerable amount of cleavage. The back of the dress swooped down to just about her rear, leaving her nearly completely exposed it had felt like. Norma assured her it would fit in, and Eleanor only hoped so.

She paired it with four-inch heels so Eleanor would at least rival Francesco's height. Norma had insisted Eleanor wear her hair up, but Eleanor knew Francesco preferred it down, and if any of her tricks were going to work tonight, she needed the odds in her favor.

"The car is arriving!" Francesco called from outside of the door where she could hear him pacing in impatience.

Eleanor sighed, trying to prepare herself before she walked over to the door. Francesco was standing near the door peeking out the window. "Finally, you're—"

Francesco stopped mid-sentence when he saw Eleanor, his eyes barely making a connection with hers until he had gotten a full look over her.

"Do you like it?" Eleanor asked innocently. She turned and gave him a full view of the back of the dress, hearing him swear once he saw it.

When she completed her 360, he was much closer than he had been before. She was right, the same dark look that had appeared in his eyes when they were in the kitchen returned.

She had the same effect on him as he did her. She almost forgot who was supposed to be in power here. Eleanor wanted nothing more than to kiss him right then and there, breaking whatever resolve he had left.

She wanted to feel the same way she had felt the last time she surrender herself to him. She almost did until there was a knock at the door.

"That's Henri." Francesco said, not breaking eye contact with her, "He can wait." Francesco moved to kiss her, but Eleanor stepped out of his grasp.

"You were just rushing me, come on. We don't want to be late." Eleanor took a deep breath as she walked away, needing the fresh air to distract her from the ache she felt.

The partition in the vehicle remained down, forcing the pair to behave themselves. Even then the tension was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife. Francesco had a frown on his face while Eleanor took in the scenery, trying to figure out where he was taking her.

Once they arrived, Eleanor could see numerous people outside talking amongst themselves with some filtering inside once they found their groups.

Eleanor still hadn't figured out where she was going, but she climbed out of the car grabbing Francesco's hand. Passing by everyone, Francesco escorted Eleanor inside keeping his hands close to her waist.

She hadn't known if it was due to the number of people inside or if he simply wanted her close, but she certainly wasn't complaining.

The venue appeared to be a museum of some sort with large pillars showings its natural age. Eleanor was stuck looking up at every step, leaving Francesco to direct her through the crowds.

"Where are we?" Eleanor asked over the live band performing in the ballroom below.

"Museo della Pace." Francesco said, "When you told Paolo you wanted to see the city, I knew this was one of the places I wanted to take you."

Always listening and always remembering it would seem.

"A museum is fitting for us." Eleanor smiled watching as Francesco picked up two flutes of champagne from a tray passing by.

"Another reason why I wanted to bring you here." Francesco handed her the glasses.

Eleanor looked around the room. There was art every and people seemed to be drawn toward it.

"It is a charity auction. It provides for unhoused children in Sicily," Francesco explained, "The art is worth millions, but if it makes you feel better, I won't bid."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and took a sip of her champagne, "If you did, you'd have to carry me home because I could only imagine..." Eleanor recognized some work of the greats and some stuff that simply looked as though a haughty rich person would buy it.

She groaned inwardly when she realized she was now a haughty rich person.

"Come, I see a colleague who wants to talk, and I refuse to leave you standing alone near the bar in this dress. It is just asking for trouble."

Eleanor chuckled softly but followed Francesco, knowing she had little choice. The moment they had gotten out of the car he had been near enough for her to touch. Even while speaking with whoever the colleague was.

Eleanor observed the man who spoke with her husband, they both spoke in their native tongue, leaving Eleanor feeling oddly alone even with Francesco standing next to her.

After realizing she was not going to be introduced, Eleanor began to walk off, wanting to see some of the nearby artwork. She made sure to stay at least in eyesight of Francesco, but he was too invested in his conversation to even notice she stepped away.

She studied the art on the wall before her. It was an angry painting, or perhaps that was how she felt at that moment. The painting was a smearing of red all over the canvas. It stood out from the more classical art surrounding it.

She learned to read what year it was made, but her inquiry was answered verbally by the stranger next to her.

"Cederic Armotti." Eleanor jumped slightly, not expecting someone so close to her. "Classic expressionist, but he passed in 2019. I've got my eye on this one."

Eleanor gave him an unsure smile.

"My apologies, Gregory Shepard." He held his hand out expectantly, so Eleanor shook it.

"Eleanor."

"Eleanor, you're American? I've bumped into everyone in here and have yet to meet a single comrade." Gregory flashed a set of perfect white teeth.

It wasn't the only thing on Gregory that was perfect. He had sandy blonde hair with large blue eyes. He oddly reminded Eleanor of a Golden Retriever with his friendly and charming demeanor.

"Honestly, I haven't met too many either."

"I come to these things all the time, but I have never seen you here, are you here for work?" Gregory asked.

"No, I live here. Well not here, but nearby." Eleanor explained. "I just got married to a native."

Gregory didn't hide his disappointment, "Well, I would say your husband is an i***t to leave you alone when you look this amazing."

"She isn't alone." Eleanor hadn't gotten the chance to respond before Francesco appeared from behind her, staking his claim back at her side.

"Sheep," Francesco said as a greeting to the man.

"Francesco, again, it's Shepard but if you can't get it right, Greg is just fine." Gregory answered with a tight but polite smile, "I hadn't known you got married. I am used to seeing other women on your arm."

Francesco kept cool but the tightening grip on her waist showed that he was beyond annoyed. She could only assume that the men knew each other.

"And I see you're alone as usual, vying for any woman whose man doesn't stand beside her."

"Can you blame me?"

"Choose your next words wisely, Sheep." The polite smile on Francesco's face failed to hide the thinly veiled warning.

Gregory only flashed another smile towards Eleanor, "I hope to see you around soon, Mrs. DeLuca." He bowed before walking off, leaving the tense couple alone once again.

"Why did you walk off?" Francesco asked.

"I didn't walk off; I went to look at art while you talked with your friend."

"I don't trust everyone here, stay by my side."

"Why are we here if you don't trust anyone?" Eleanor asked.

He only sighed as the lights dimmed a person on a mic taking our attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, if you could be seated for our auction. It is about to begin." The host announced to the crowd. Immediately people made their way into the ballroom where chairs were laid out.

"You're about to find out," Francesco grumbled before leading Eleanor to the front row. Eleanor would've much preferred to sit near the rear but row after row, Francesco's steps hadn't waivered.

At least until they were in the front of course.

Once Eleanor had been seated, Francesco walked towards the stage, confusing Eleanor for a moment. As soon as he was gone, she felt a lot colder on the seats. Patrons had finally got to their seats and the ones who hadn't were trying to quietly walk by.

The lights in the room darkened as the stage was the only thing lit in the room. Eleanor hadn't expected her husband to step out onto the stage and make his way to the podium.

He was instantly met with applause, as he was the main sign that things were beginning.

"Tonight, my wife is in the audience, so bear with me as I have to speak in English." Francesco joked.

It was as though he had turned into a different man. A moment ago, he was fuming with untapped rage, but on the stage, it was as though he was a congressman.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming out tonight it means a lot to me and my family." Francesco began, "This is something we have been doing every year, and somehow, we are never failed by our people. When I was young, my father instilled high willpower in all of us."

"I always wondered why he was always moving, always working. I even foolishly told myself I would never be like him when I grow older." The audience laughed, as he was exactly that.

"But in adulthood, I realized that I was simply missing the why. I spent time as a teenager in south Sicily myself, trying to feel what those children felt, realizing I wasn't too far from being just that."

"I know, there was a time that everyone felt that had to doubt the DeLuca name, and I do apologize for my father's wrongdoings, but this year we are proving that the DeLuca family is different. Instead of crime, we are bringing success. So, I thank you all for giving, and I pray we never forget where we came from."

At the end of his speech everyone began to applaud, pulling Eleanor out of the enthrall she had been in Francesco's words. As the small speech had caused her to doubt her assumptions about the man.

She was stupid for even taking Jemma seriously, not knowing anything about the family herself. She had spent so much time since her marriage trying to figure out Francesco when she truly could've just asked.

Francesco sat down next to her as the auction began and paintings were brought on stage.

"Did you like my speech?" Francesco asked, leaning over to Eleanor's ear to whisper so as not to disturb any additional guests around them.

The heat from his voice trailed down to her core.

"I didn't know you were a philanthropist." She said back, thankful she could keep her voice level. Francesco absently stroked her shoulder, letting his fingers trail to the exposed skin on her back.

"Hm," he said, while Eleanor tried her hardest to focus on the people on stage, or at least the artwork and the fact that they were in a room with five hundred people.

Even while she attempted to Francesco kept his eyes on her, and she could feel him burning a hole through her. His fingers ever so slightly brushed over her skin causing her n*****s to harden beneath the dress.

Is he toying with me? Eleanor wondered.

Francesco leaned over to whisper into her ear again.

"Just know that this night will end with your legs on my shoulders just like our last date night ended." His words were only loud enough for Eleanor to hear but he might as well say it on the microphone by the way Eleanor blushed from head to toe.

Emboldened by no longer believing Jemma's lies, Eleanor leaned over to whisper into his ear, "I can't wait."