"Live with it. Emmanuelle made certain your fridge was stocked and Francesca made several meals for you. They're in the freezer. One's in the fridge."
"Please thank them for me." Ricco shoved open the door and forced his legs to work. It wasn't easy, but he had discipline in abundance, a trait every rider needed. He was very, very aware of Stefano's eyes on him as he made his way up to the door.
"Francesca." Ricco bent his head to brush a kiss along his sister-in-law's cheek. The weeks of healing and physical therapy had helped. Pain didn't crash through him every time he took a step, and he'd begun training again, although Stefano watched him closely. His older brother was still unaware of the training hall Ricco had installed in his home a few years earlier. Most gatherings were in Stefano's penthouse in the Ferraro Hotel.
"Ricco." Francesca flashed her amused smile, the one that mocked him a little for his greeting.
He rarely said hello or good-bye. He said her name, and she retaliated by saying his. He loved that about her. He loved everything about her, mainly that she loved his brother more than anything or anyone.
He'd never learned the art of relaxing. He could play his part out in public, but at home, with his brothers and sister, he had always been the one to pace around, help Taviano, his youngest brother, in the kitchen, or find his way to the training room and work out while the others conversed. Since the accident, he'd made a few attempts at being better.
"Smells good."
"I hope it tastes good. I've been working with a few new recipes for the artichoke sauce you said you liked and I think I've got it for you now. I'm serving homemade pasta with artichoke sauce, zucchini flan, guinea fowl and stuffed flowers fried. Oh, and for dessert, tiramisu."
"Nice. I've never had anything you've ever cooked that I didn't like." It was the truth. He wasn't into flattery, but Francesca was truly the nicest woman he'd ever met. She loved and accepted them all right along with her demanding husband. "Where's the boss?"
She laughed. "He only thinks he's the boss. I still have my job at the deli, don't I? You know how much he hates me working."
"Here's a little news flash for you, honey," Ricco said. "We all hate you working. We've got enemies."
"I don't."
They'd taken care of her enemy. Permanently. "They can get to us through you," he pointed out. It was an old argument and one he was certain Stefano had tried many times. Francesca might be the sweetest woman he knew, but she was no pushover.
The fact that Francesca still had her job surprised him. He couldn't imagine his oldest brother allowing his woman to put herself in danger, and Stefano had no trouble bossing all his siblings around.
Ricco shrugged out of his jacket and let her take it to hang up along with his tie. "Just us tonight?" He was already unbuttoning the top three buttons of his shirt.
"Yes." She made a face at him. "Family business."
He found himself relaxing. He was good at family business. Francesca would have told him if Eloisa was present. As a rule, his mother didn't show up for family events at Stefano's – which meant she was almost never present.
Taviano had come to him three weeks earlier with his findings. A casing had cracked on the shock absorber. Stefano had yet to talk to him about it, so he was fairly certain that was what this night was all about. He didn't really care what it was that brought the family together, only that they were together.
"Stefano told me you're advertising for a rope model," Francesca continued. "How's that coming?"
"There's a lot of fucked-up women in the world," he replied.
She laughed. "You're just finding that out?"
"Since meeting you, I had high hopes." That was partly true, but mostly he was teasing her. Something new for him with an outsider, although he'd never considered her that. Francesca fit right in with his brothers and Emmanuelle. She was family, and every one of them would lay down their lives for her.
She gave him another smile. She really was a beautiful woman. Stefano was lucky to find her. Not only was she sweet, intelligent and beautiful, but she also could have been a rider, had she been found and trained from the time she was a child. She was rare. Very rare. She had accepted their way of life, shrouded in secrecy and living outside the accepted laws of the land.
Ricco sighed. He'd secretly hoped that by advertising for a rope model, the woman of his dreams would appear. She would be tall, with red hair, because he liked that look, slim like a model and very willing to accept him as the focus of her life. More, she would be an untrained rider, one who could give him children so his family would be happy. So far he'd gotten every body type, hair color and a variety of curves, a lot of women willing to do kink and more who wanted money. A lot of money. He hadn't connected with any of them – not even physically.