Shadow Rider (44 page)

“How dare
you
?” Francesca's voice came from behind them. She walked right up behind Stefano and slipped her arm around his waist. “Stefano is not reckless and you know it. He isn't hiding up here afraid to face you and I think you know that, too.”

“Stay out of this,” Eloisa snapped. “You have no right to interfere in family matters. You don't have a clue what we're talking about.”

“Be very careful how you speak to my woman, Eloisa,” Stefano warned, his voice dripping ice, but his heart had turned over at the show of absolute support from Francesca. Even his siblings didn't interfere when Eloisa was raging at him for some infraction. He'd always been the head of the family for his brothers and sister. He fought their battles with Eloisa, not the other way around. It felt good to have someone stand with him, even though he didn't need it. He had been arguing with his volatile mother from the time he could talk. “We're to be married, in spite of your objections, in a couple of weeks. She'll be my wife and with me, the head of the
famiglia
.”

“Perhaps it would be best to start again,” Francesca suggested. “Would you care to sit down, Eloisa? I'm Francesca Capello. We haven't been formally introduced.”

Eloisa stood for a moment, obviously struggling with her temper, but to Stefano's surprise she nodded her head. “It's nice to meet you, Francesca. Please excuse my rudeness the
other day. I had no idea you were in the house and would overhear the things I said to my son, things I believed at the time. Since then, I have read the numerous reports gathered on Barry Anthon and I know I was mistaken. I should have done what we always do and gathered the facts first.”

Stefano opened his mouth to agree with her, but Francesca dug her fingers into his side hard and he refrained from blasting his mother in the way he normally would have. He glanced down at his woman. He fucking loved thinking of her that way. She was . . . magnificent. Her head up. Her arm around his waist. Her eyes clear. There was no fear now, only a confident woman standing beside her man. Yeah. He loved that.

Francesca gestured toward the armchair across from the couch. “Thank you for that, Eloisa. I appreciate it. Emmanuelle tells me you've been helping with some of the wedding details. It's all happening so fast I'm a little overwhelmed, so I'm thankful for any help at all.”

Eloisa took the chair across from them. Stefano tucked Francesca close to him, his thigh pressed against hers. He'd missed her. Really missed her. It was strange to think of a woman night and day, to worry about her and look forward to being with her. To inhale the scent of her and know you were home. To crave her body like an addiction and need the sound of her laughter and the sight of her smile. He'd never had that before and now it seemed as natural to him as breathing.

“We really do have to discuss this mess, Francesca,” Eloisa said. “I don't want to distress you, but Stefano did something that wasn't protocol in our business and it could have gotten someone killed. I can't let it go by without saying something.”

“If you're talking about Nicoletta, I'm fully aware of the situation,” Francesca said. “By all means talk to Stefano about it, but get all the facts before you get upset. He had a good reason for doing what he did.”

Eloisa's face flushed with anger. Her eyes went hard. Stefano had seen that look a million times. He could have
told Francesca that Eloisa wasn't reasonable when she was emotional. Her temper was legendary in the family. Even her siblings trod lightly when she was upset.

“First of all, Stefano, Francesca shouldn't be burdened with the knowledge of our work until
after
the wedding.” She bit out each word, her teeth snapping together, as if she might take a bite out of him if she wasn't so controlled.

“Eloisa, you don't get to tell me how to handle my personal business, not when it comes to my woman.” Stefano kept his voice as mild as possible. His family could get loud in their disagreements, but with his mother, it went from bad to worse very quickly.

Eloisa's breath hissed out in a long stream of disapproval. “When it comes to you being careless about family business, Stefano, someone has to, and there's no one but me. Everyone else is afraid of you.” She leaned toward him, narrowing her eyes, her finger stabbing toward him. “I'm not. You had no right to bring that girl to our neighborhood. She should have been left there. And Taviano had no business being there. His job was to be seen. To be photographed. Both of you left the
famiglia
vulnerable.”

Stefano shrugged. “Fortunately, Eloisa, I'm the head of the
famiglia
, and I make the rules, not you. It was my call. Taviano was there when he was needed, thanks to him acting on his instincts, which is what we're trained to do. I don't know why you're upset when we all did our jobs.”

Eloisa leaned even closer, her eyes alive with anger. “Because deviating from protocol, something that has been in existence for a hundred years for good reason, at the last minute will get you killed. It will get your brother killed. You're both more important than this girl, whether she's a confirmed rider or not.”

There was a shocked silence. Stefano counted his heartbeats, trying to control his temper. “Why would that be, Eloisa? Why would you think Taviano and I are more important than a seventeen-year-old girl? One being brutalized, raped and beaten nearly every fucking day since she
was fifteen? If that isn't reason enough for you, this girl can provide children—riders—for our family. She could be a much loved wife to one of your sons. How is she not just as important if not more so?”

Eloisa's face turned red. She blinked rapidly, repeatedly, as if she had something in her eyes. Her fists clenched. “Because,” she hissed, both fists clenched tight. “She is not my son. She is not Taviano. She is not
you
. I don't care if you and your brothers and Emmanuelle hate me as long as you're alive. As long as I know I did everything I could to make you the best riders out there. I sacrificed my entire life, my happiness,
everythin
g, in order for you and the others to live. To be prepared for a life you were born into. I wouldn't have chosen it for you, but I had no choice, just as you have no choice. I won't see you dead, Stefano. Not another one of my children before me. I won't.”

Francesca's fingers bit into his thigh in warning. His gaze flicked to her face. He could see she was desperately trying to tell him to be cautious, to hear what his mother was saying, the underlying message. To hear the desperation and fury in her. He'd seen that a time or two in other mothers. Protective tigresses when it came to defending their children. He'd just never seen it in
his
mother.

She'd always been as cold as ice. She'd overseen every aspect of their training in the United States, even when they went to other families to train. She'd made frequent surprise visits to ensure they were working as hard as she deemed necessary. She couldn't go abroad with them, but she kept in touch, was just as demanding. His father had never shown any interest in their training. He'd never really shown any interest in them at all.

“Why don't you divorce him, Eloisa? You're retired. It won't matter whether or not you can ride a shadow. It won't matter to him if he doesn't remember any of us.” He spoke as gently as possible. “He's never been anything but hurtful to you.”

Eloisa held up her hand. It was shaking, but she kept it
there, a barrier between them. “If I can't ride a shadow, I can't get to one of you when you might need help. I don't care what Phillip does. It isn't like I'm going to find the love of my life at this late date, but I can continue to make certain my children are as safe as I can make them.”

Stefano regarded his mother, wondering at her strange reaction. She sounded . . . caring. “Did you want to have children, Eloisa?”

There was silence. Francesca's fingers dug deeper into his muscle. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, needing to touch her. Grateful she was so close to him, leaning into him, staying by his side in spite of the way Eloisa had spoken of her earlier. She kept his temper under control and allowed him to listen to his mother's voice, judging it for honesty. He would never have asked his mother such a question, would never have gotten far enough in a conversation with her to even consider finding out more about her.

Eloisa was a very controlled, disciplined person, much like he was. She was also extremely private. She kept all emotions—other than anger—locked down. Now, she just looked vulnerable. He almost wished he hadn't asked. Eloisa never appeared vulnerable or fragile. She looked almost as if she might shatter.

Twice she licked her lips and her gaze shifted away from his, but not before he thought he caught the sheen of tears. She shook her head twice. “I wanted a husband and children just like most women, but that wasn't my reality. My reality was to give them a legacy they had no choice but to fulfill. I had gone through the training.”

A bitter smile twisted her mouth, one difficult to witness. Francesca's palm stroked this thigh soothingly, as if she could feel his reaction and at the same time, keep him grounded and balanced.

“I know you think
tua nonna e il nonno
were loving, wonderful people, but they adhered to the old ways. They were taskmasters, far worse than I could ever be. The masters
we were sent to were brutal, and I know you think the training was too hard on your brothers and sister, but that was what was drilled into us, that training was everything.” She shook her head, a little shudder going through her body. “Some of the trainers were cruel, but a necessary evil.”

“Is that what you think?” Stefano snapped, visions of Ettore rising up, sharp and murderous in his mind. His gut knotted and it was only Francesca's restraining hand that prevented him from leaping up and pacing with restless energy to keep from shouting insults at his mother. “You knew the trainers were cruel and yet you sent my brothers to them anyway. You sent me but that didn't turn out so well for the family, did it?”

“Stefano, you can't ignore the fact that training is necessary. Without it, none of you could do what you do. It's difficult, yes, but all other riders have gone through it.”

“It's necessary, Eloisa, but it doesn't have to be at the hands of brutal trainers. Cruelty has no place in what we do, so those of us who ride shouldn't be subjected to vicious trainers just for the sake of inflicting pain for their pleasure.”

Eloisa gasped. Her hand crept defensively up her throat. “Is that what you think? That I sent all of you to them so they could be cruel to you?”

“You are our parent. It was your job to protect us.” Stefano made it an accusation.

Francesca pressed closer to him, under his shoulder, her body warm and soft and giving. Comforting him when he hadn't known that was what he needed most. The memories of his childhood were close—too close. Of his sister screaming night after night with night terrors. Of his brothers returning from other countries cold and hardened, with hell in their eyes. Of carrying Ettore's body through the shadows. Rage moved in him and he tightened his arm around Francesca to help keep it at bay.

“I followed tradition, Stefano, just like every other parent of a rider. I sent all of you to the best trainers around the
world. I went, and every other rider goes. When you were away from me here in the States, I went to ensure there was no cruelty, but I couldn't go to Europe with all of you.” Eloisa's voice was low. Choked. Strangled.

“You
knew
what would happen, Eloisa, or you wouldn't have gone to the trainers here in the States.”

“It's
tradition
.” Eloisa all but shouted it, but there were tears in her voice.

“Years ago, the women were nothing, Eloisa. They had no rights. They couldn't own property. They
were
property. That changed because it wasn't right. Children were beaten regularly by parents. That changed because it wasn't right. Just because something is tradition, handed down from one generation to the next, doesn't make it right.”

“Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I learned that when Ricco came back from Japan and he was so changed? There's death in his eyes. There's emptiness when before there was such life. All of them came back changed. Even you, and you're so strong, Stefano.” Her voice broke.

“All of them are strong, Eloisa. Every single one of them. Dump Phillip. We can take care of one another in the shadows. Let yourself live. Let yourself enjoy your children instead of making yourself crazy, trying to protect us when we no longer need it.”

Eloisa took a deep breath to steady herself. “I'll think about it. I can see you're tired, Stefano, so I'll go now and let you get some sleep.” She shook her head and stood, raising a hand to keep either of them from giving her sympathy of any kind.

Stefano stood as well, taking Francesca with him, locking her tightly to his side. She immediately pressed her palm to his abdomen so that her warmth burned right through his thin shirt and into his skin. It went deeper still, so that her heat spread through his body, making him very aware of how lucky he was to have her. To have found her. His mother was a shell. She presented a cold, calculating woman with
little emotion to the rest of the world and even he had believed it. Instead, she was a woman with dreams of being loved. She had been forced into a loveless marriage with a man who cared only for the power of shadow riding. Of the ability it gave him to carry on his affairs. She'd sacrificed the love of her children in order to carry on the traditions her parents had forced on her.

Stefano looked down at Francesca as the elevator doors slid closed. “Our children will know love,
dolce cuore
. If I become too harsh in their training, I need your word that you'll stop me.”