Italian Weddings and Funerals by AJ Llewellyn

Author:AJ Llewellyn [Llewellyn, AJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: gay menage paranormal erotic romance
Publisher: Silver Publishing
Published: 2013-10-08T19:00:00+00:00

* * * *

"Boss," Zaria said the next morning when she found me at the airport. "I've got bad news."

"What is it?"

I thought she was going to tell me Per couldn't make it, but he was right there beside her, his hair sticking out all over the place as he bounced on his toes. I could tell he was excited about our trip.

"The saucepans have gone missing."

I narrowed my eyes at her. Knowing her fondness for trading sex for cookware, I wondered if she'd helped herself to it, but I caught a mental glimpse of her astonishment when she'd walked into her parking garage and seen that her car had been broken into.

"My knives were in that pack," Domino said.

I promised to buy her new ones.

We made it onto our Alitalia flight to Rome, via one stopover in Paris. The entire way, Domino discussed her pregnancy and boyfriend issues until first I, then Zaria, feigned sleep. Only Per seemed willing to listen to her drivel.

When we finally arrived at Rome's Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino Airport, I wanted to strangle her. It was nine-thirty in the evening local time and we were in one of the most exciting cities in the world. My senses started spinning. Everything except the sound of one set of footsteps stopped. I turned and saw him. My whole world crumbled. My life flashed before my eyes.

I couldn't speak and knew it was mutual.

"Francesco," I finally said.

He took my hand, his gaze searing into mine.

"So long you have neglected me, my friend."

I stood, helpless as a lamb. Rubble. He'd reduced me to rubble. I remembered suddenly—God, how could I have forgotten—the last few stolen moments we'd shared. Even when he was with Elettra, promised to her, betrothed, he'd still craved me. He'd held my hand and said the exact words he said right now.

"Never do I want to let go, Luca."

I awoke with a jolt. Dang. I was still on the plane. We hadn't even touched down. My mind drifted back. I tried to stop it. I had fought so long to bury the feelings I had for Francesco. Now they were bubbling just below the surface. He'd wanted us both. I couldn't understand it. The last time I'd seen him had been at his father's funeral. His father had been like my own. Having left Salerno to escape my deadly uncle, I'd had to leave my own family behind. Once Uncle Aloysius died, I'd lost the last of my real family. Even when my parents died, I couldn't attend their funerals. I knew Carlo would be there, looking for me.

He'd known I was soft-hearted. He had somehow discovered my relationship with Francois and showed up at the funeral. A lot of people had turned up to what was known as The English Cemetery. Francesco, a poet, had selected the Non-Catholic Cemetery for Foreigners for his father's final resting place because it contained the earthly remains of so many famous and important foreigners.

Rome was undergoing turbulent but encouraging changes when the English Cemetery was created.

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