Semper Fi

  The evening air was still warm and I tugged at the neck of my t-shirt. The label was rubbing across a set of scratches where Caro had marked me. I kinda liked it. But we hadn’t gone more than a few yards before some bastards had their eyeballs all over Caro.

  “Vieni qui e baciami!”

  Caro ignored the rude fucking comment, but I felt a murderous rage bubbling up as the other one called out, “Il tuo corpo è bellissimo,” his eyes glued to her legs.

  Yeah, I might not have thought through the whole buying-my-woman-sexy-clothes scenario. But when the first guy muttered as he passed Caro, “Voglio scopare,” I turned around to punch that fucking leer off his face.

  Caro caught hold of my arm.

  “Oh no, eyes front, Hunter. You bought this skirt, and now you’re suffering the consequences: suck it up.”

  I opened my mouth to argue but the look she gave me wasn’t impressed, so I threw the guy a hard stare and let Caro lead me away. When we arrived at a restaurant that Caro liked the look of, I made sure she was seated in a corner so that her legs were hidden by the tablecloth. My skin itched having my back to the room, but at least Caro was protected.

  She pretended not to notice my caveman behavior.

  “What do you want to do tomorrow, Sebastian? Apart from spring your surprise?”

  I took a deep breath and focused on the woman in front of me.

  “I thought we could walk up to Capezzano Inferiore, take a look around. Even if there aren’t any Venzis there, it would be kinda cool to see where your dad grew up, wouldn’t it?”

  She gave me a sweet smile, and I relaxed for the first time since leaving Signora Carello’s villa.

  Our food arrived and I dug in. Hot sex with Caro was currently replacing my daily work-out. Gotta say it rocked.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I really didn’t know what a normal day was like for her—in fact I didn’t know that much about her life. We’d spent so much energy just reconnecting, I hadn’t had a chance to ask her before.

  “Tell me about your place in Long Beach, Caro,” I suggested.

  “Oh! Sure, okay. Well, it’s small; a bungalow in an area called the West End. It was built about 90 years ago, and it was pretty beaten up when I bought it. I restored the porch at the front so I can sit out and watch the ocean, and in the winter the windows get covered in salt from the wind coming off the Atlantic. I have some really great neighbors, and they look after the place while I’m away. My friends like to come out from Manhattan on the weekends. You spoke to Nicole, she works in merchant banking; and then there’s Jenna, who’s a bitch-on-wheels attorney, but actually she’s really lovely; and Alice, she’s a Professor of literature at NYU. I met her when I was going to school there…”

  Fuck me! Bankers, lawyers and professors? I was so out of my fucking league.

  I should have known—I should have realized.

  What the fuck was she doing with me?

  She must have seen something on my face, because she stopped suddenly.

  “What’s the matter, Sebastian?”

  The food felt like sand in my mouth, and I struggled to swallow.

  “How am I going to fit in with your life there, Caro? All your friends have these amazing careers … and I’ll just be a jobless grunt with a high school diploma.”

  “Sebastian, no!”

  “You know what they’ll think. Marine: Muscles Are Required Intelligence Not Essential.”

  “Hey! No one will think that, and you know what? I don’t give a shit anyway. Sebastian, haven’t we had to listen to enough crap in the past to care less what anyone else thinks now? Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me?”

  Yeah, well, not sounding so convincing now.

  “Sebastian, do you love me?”

  My eyes fixed on hers.

  “You know I do, Caro. Sempre.”

  She reached across the table and took my hand.

  “Then whatever happens, we’ll deal. I vaguely remember someone saying that to me. Oh, wait, that was you a couple of days ago. Sebastian, the only thing my friends will care about is that I’m happy.”

  It was hard to believe.

  “What about your plans to be a personal fitness trainer?” she went on. “And, jeez, Sebastian, we’ll be in New York: you could do something amazing with your language skills. Don’t go and get all shy on me now, Hunter!”

  I took a deep breath, forcing myself to relax. If she believed it, why the fuck couldn’t I?

  “Yeah, okay. Sorry. I just kinda freaked for a moment there.”

  “I know and I understand. It’s weird for me, too, and we haven’t been doing this for very long. I guess you could say we’re out of practice with the whole dating thing. I feel very un-me sitting here in this shockingly short miniskirt, but I tried it, for you.”

  “Shockingly short?” I said, smiling despite myself.

  She pulled my hand under the table and let me run my fingers up her bare thigh.

  “Yeah,” I agreed, raising one eyebrow. “Shockingly short.”

  Her hand clamped down on mine, stopping my ascent.

  “Okay, Columbus, you’ve discovered enough for one evening,” she said, laughing at my chagrined expression.

  Then her smile softened.

  “Come, tesoro, take me home.”

  I woke up long after dawn—unusual for me since I’d joined the Marines. It might have had something to do with the way my body felt deeply relaxed, or the fact that I’d made love to Caro for hours the night before.

  Yeah, we fucked too, and sometimes that was rough and fast and hard, but something about her softness and sweetness and the love I saw in her eyes made me want to go slow and savor every second. And although I didn’t want to admit it, our time was running out—again.

  I smiled as her eyes slowly opened.

  “Ciao, bella.”

  “Ciao,” she said, smiling up at me.

  She stretched, accidentally bumping against my dick that had been rigid for quite a while and was begging for attention.

  My hand drifted over her hip, and she didn’t stop me when my fingers slipped over the damp curls of her mound and into her slick heat. She sighed and groaned, a sound that caught in my chest and made my heart beat faster. Christ, this woman.

  Two hours later, Signora Carello served us breakfast on a small terrace overlooking her backyard. It was a blaze of color and I could see that Caro loved it here. If my girl was happy, I was happy.

  The signora joined us for coffee.

  “So,” she said, smiling at Caro, “you are hoping to find family in Capezzano Inferiore?”

  Caro’s expression was wistful.

  “That would be the icing on the cake, but really I just want to see the village where my father came from. If I find family, well…”

  It pissed me the hell off that I couldn’t give her everything she wanted.

  The signora smiled sympathetically and patted Caro’s hand.

  “Perhaps you will find family in a different way,” she said, glancing at me and smiling.

  Caro looked at her dubiously and I thought she was going to put her reporter brain into gear, but she didn’t. Instead, she drained her coffee cup and stood up to leave.

  Signora Carello squeezed my hand and whispered, “Amor regge senza legge.”

  It took me a moment to translate, but then I grinned at her and she winked. Yeah, I liked that one: Love rules without laws.

  We strolled through Salerno and I enjoyed the feel of Caro’s small hand in mine. I’d fucked a lot of women in the last six years, but holding hands, out in public, that was way more intimate. I liked it: it felt right.

  Caro stopped to admire the yachts in the harbor as we leaned on the railings, the sun turning the water to a deep blue.

  “I should take you sailing some time,” I said. “If we had more time, I’d rent us a boat and teach you.”

  “I already know,” she smiled. “Although I haven’t been out on a sailboat for years.”


  “Really?” I was surprised. “I didn’t know you could sail.”

  “Ah, you don’t know all my talents yet, Hunter.”

  I leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I’m looking forward to finding out.” Then I straightened up. “But when did you learn?”

  She seemed uneasy, and when she answered I knew why.

  “David taught me.”

  “The asshole?”

  “The very one.”

  I hated hearing her talk about her ex-husband, and I definitely didn’t want to hear that he’d taught her to sail. That skewered my heart. I knew it was irrational to hate something that had happened long before Caro and I had gotten together, but I did. I hated every single second that she’d ever spent with him. I hated that he’d been her first. I hated that he’d nearly broken her, and if I ever saw that fucker again, I wouldn’t be responsible for my actions.

  “It was a long time ago, Sebastian,” she said softly. “And we agreed we couldn’t change the past, so stop looking so mad or I’ll have to kiss you indecently in public.”

  I was still off balance as she spoke, but my pulse quickened when her meaning filtered through the red mist that had descended the second she’d mentioned her ex-husband.

  “Nope, still pissed off, Caro. You’ll have to kiss me. I don’t know if it’ll work, but you could try.”

  I stared at her challengingly.

  “Are you sure, Sebastian?” she purred. “Because I don’t want to get you all hot and bothered.”

  “I’ll risk it.”

  She turned to face me, standing so close that our bodies touched. And then she ran her hand over my ass, under my t-shirt, and dragged her nails down my back hard enough to make my breath catch in my throat. With her other hand, she pulled my head down and kissed me hard, stealthily rubbing over my zipper at the same time.

  “Fuck, Caro! Let’s go back to our room right now.”

  She pushed me away, laughing, her eyes dancing with lust. “No, Sebastian. That was just my distraction technique—which, by the way, I didn’t learn in the Marines.”

  I groaned, then discreetly adjusted the fucking inconvenient bulge in my pants.

  “Should we go to Capezzano Inferiore now?” she asked innocently.

  I gave her a look that said we’d be evening the score later.

  It was a steep walk up to her father’s village, but the view was amazing and in the distance we could see the island of Anacapri.

  I never thought I’d come to a place like this, and for a second I was ten years old and copying a British accent as I imagined that I was James Bond. I glanced sideways at Caro—I already had my own Bond girl. My dick liked the idea a lot and I had to run over some silent drills in my head before another boner snuck up on me. Bastard seemed to be on high alert 24/7 around Caro.

  The village of Capezzano Inferiore looked dead, the only sign of life a mangy old dog scratching in the shade. It was pretty much a dump and I hoped Caro wasn’t too disappointed. I guess I could see why her old man would have wanted to leave. When I glanced at Caro, a lump formed in my throat: her shoulders were hunched and I could tell she was close to tears.

  “We don’t have to stay, Caro.”

  She sighed as she tried to smile. “It’s okay. I don’t know what I was expecting: Papa always said it was a one-horse town where the horse had died. I guess he was right.”

  “Look, that guy over there is just opening up his café—let’s go get a drink, okay?”

  She nodded slowly, and I took her hand and led her over to the small table outside. If anyone knew any gossip about a place like this, it would be a bar owner or a priest.

  The café owner looked surprised to have customers. I had no idea how the guy made any money in such a dead-end dump. I ordered a beer and Caro asked for an espresso and a glass of water.

  I wasn’t expecting too much, but when my beer arrived, it came in a frosted glass, and Caro’s espresso was served in a miniature coffee pot with a pot of raw cane sugar lumps. It was a nice touch.

  “Excuse me, sir,” I said to the guy serving us. “My girlfriend’s father came from this village. We were wondering if you might have known him: his surname was Venzi.”

  The man scratched his head. “That name seems familiar, but I’m not sure. Let me ask my wife—she’s lived here her whole life.”

  Caro shifted anxiously in her seat.

  “Don’t get your hopes up, Caro,” I reminded her gently.

  “No, I’m not,” she said, shaking her head. She was a God-awful liar.

  A moment later, the owner’s wife appeared.

  “Buon giorno. You are asking after the Venzi family? How can I help you?”

  “I was just wondering … my father, Marco Venzi, he was born here. Did you know him?”

  The woman smiled warmly.

  “Goodness! Marco Venzi! That’s a name I haven’t heard in a very long time. He was the boy who left to live in America. Your father, you say? Yes, I knew him.”

  Tears glittered in Caro’s eyes, and I squeezed her fingers as she failed to hide her emotion.

  “It’s so exciting to meet someone who remembers Papa,” she choked out.

  “Yes, we were at school together,” the woman confirmed. “He was a few years older than me, and always in trouble. He had the devil in him, that one.”

  “His daughter is just the same,” I smiled, gazing at Caro.

  The woman laughed. “And how is dear Marco? Did he make his fortune in America like he said? He was crazy for your American movies. Said he was going to be a big star, like Valentino.”

  Caro swallowed and her body tensed, unable to get the words out.

  “Mr. Venzi died some years ago,” I answered for her.

  “Ah, I see,” the woman said, her smile faltering. “Forgive me, young woman, my condolences. Your father was always so full of spirit. Too big for this little town.”

  “Do you know if he had any relatives here?” I asked, trying to move the subject on from memories that were painful for Caro.

  “Well, there was his mother, but she died a long time ago. Marco had a sister who was much older than him, I remember. But she married and moved away, to Naples, I think. I’m sorry, I don’t remember the name of the man she married, so that’s all I can tell you.”

  Caro looked devastated. The woman ducked her head in sympathy and left us alone.

  “We could try and find her,” I suggested. “She might have had kids—you could have cousins you don’t know about.”

  Caro took a trembling breath, making an effort to pull herself together. God, she was so strong.

  “Yes, I might,” she acknowledged, forcing a watery smile. “I probably do.” Then she closed her eyes and shook her head slowly. “It doesn’t matter, Sebastian. Signora Carello was right: even if there are cousins, they’re not my family—not really. I have my friends…” she paused. “And I have you. You’re my family now.”

  I’d waited so many fucking years to hear that. It almost destroyed me that she said it here, now, in the village where her father had been born. I’d only known Marco Venzi for two short weeks, but in that time he taught me more about family than my own parents had in 27 years. And now I was here with his daughter—a woman I loved more than life.

  My heart thundered in my chest and I started to panic, wondering what the fuck I was doing. What did I have to offer a woman like Caro? Nothing. Fuck all. Just my heart and soul—and I didn’t know if that would be enough.

  My head dropped and I held onto Caro’s hand like a drowning man holds onto a life preserver. I kissed her fingers reverently, then on shaky legs, I sank to one knee.

  “Carolina Maria Venzi: I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

  And then I waited. Shock registered on her face and I swear my heart stopped. But then she took a deep breath, and a gentle smile spread across her lips.

  “I love you, too, Sebastian. And the answer is yes.”


  I let out a shout of pure fucking joy and leapt to my feet, pulling her into his arms, squeezing her so hard that she gasped. She rested her head over my heart, and I thought it would leap out of my fucking chest.

  When I spoke, I hardly recognized my voice, it sounded so choked.

  “I’ll do everything to make you happy, I promise, Caro. Everything, baby. You are my life.”

  “And you are mine, tesoro,” she whispered. “We’ll find a way—we always do.”

  I collapsed back onto the hard, wooden seat and pulled her onto my lap, burying my face in her hair, kissing her neck.

  Then my head slammed back, knocking against the wall hard enough to shake some sense into me.

  “Oh, fuck!”

  Stupid useless, clueless, pathetic jarhead!

  “What? What’s wrong?” she asked nervously.

  “I forgot to give you the fucking ring. Fuck it! I wanted this to be so smooth. I said it enough times in my head.”

  She started to smile, and her hand covered her mouth as if she was holding back laughter. I couldn’t blame her—I was a freakin’ idiot.

  “You did? You practiced this?”

  She had no idea.

  I grinned at her, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, once or twice. Maybe a few times more … maybe a lot of times more… Ah, fuck it, Caro. See if the damn thing fits.”

  I yanked the ring box out of my pocket and slapped it down onto the table. By now Caro was laughing at me openly; it was catching.

  “You’re in danger of sweeping me off my feet again, Sebastian,” she laughed, the sound wrapping around my heart and warming it. “How can I resist such sweet words: I’ll treasure your proposal forever, ‘See if the damn thing fits’.”

  Then she opened the box. It wasn’t the biggest diamond ever, but I knew she wouldn’t want anything too showy. Besides, her hands were so tiny, anything bigger would have looked like bling—and my Caro was nothing but fuckin’ classy. Besides, it was a blue-white diamond—the best quality you could buy. Or so the jeweler had told me.

  The diamond threw rainbows across the table as she stared at it.

  “Sebastian, it’s beautiful!” she gasped. “Where on earth did you get it … and when?”

  “Try it on,” I suggested, lifting the ring out of the box and sliding it onto the third finger of her left hand. I hoped she couldn’t see my own hands shaking. “Perfect,” I said quietly.