Xander's Secret: A Best Friend's Little

Sister/Age Gap/ Steamy Romance

(Forbidden Desires of PCH Book 4)
Chelle Rose
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 Xander’s Secret
FORBIDDEN DESIRES OF PCH
BOOK FOUR
CHELLE ROSE
Xander’s Secret © 2022 Chelle Rose

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means
−electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other−except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the
prior written permission of the publisher.

Published in the United States of America

Edited by: Shel’s Editing Services
Cover Design by: Ctrl.Alt.Publish
 Contents

Introduction
Trigger Warnings
Prologue

1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue
Epilogue Two
Unholy - Chapter One
Books by Chelle Rose
 Introduction

“We cannot choose whom we love. Either we do or we don’t. The strongest of loves cannot be
denied. What is written in the stars will be.”

Thank you for reading Xander’s Secret book four of the Forbidden Desires of PCH series. It can be
read as part of the series or as a standalone. Book one is Mercy if you want to start at the beginning.

Mercy
 Trigger Warnings

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locations, or
persons, living or dead, is coincidental. This book is intended for a mature audience 18+. There
may be some violence, drug use, or other triggers. Please be aware if you have any of those
triggers.

Please skip to the next page if you don’t want trigger warnings to spoil the story for you.

Trigger Warnings that may appear in this book:

Murder
Death of an infant in utero.
Cheating (Not between the main characters)
Cursing
Prologue
 XANDER

I’m sitting at my desk recording notes for the surgeries I’ve done today when my phone starts ringing.
I smirk when I see it’s my best friend, Liam calling. He went on his honeymoon for three weeks, and
I’ve been so busy, I haven’t seen them since they came home. I answer the call, “Hey, Asshole.”
“Hey, you need to come home,” he says.
I laugh at his needy tone, “Miss me that much?” I ask.
“Something happened to Isabella. You need to come home.”
The first thing that pops into my head, of course, is this man that’s been stalking her. He hasn’t
ever been violent. It’s been more annoying than anything. He sent her letters and flowers twice. But
they say these things can escalate. As far as I know she hasn’t heard from him since the restraining
order.
“Is she okay?”
“I don’t think so, Xander,” he replies quietly.
Shit. What did he do to her?
“I’m on my way,” I say as I disconnect the call. Suddenly, my chest is tight as I race out of the
hospital to my car. The entire drive home my mind keeps replaying my short conversation with Liam.
Is she okay? I don’t think so. Is she okay? I don’t think so. It’s a constant terrifying loop. Isabella and
I don’t have a great marriage. It’s funny because from the outside everyone thinks we are Prince
Charming and Cinderella living our happily ever after. That’s not even close to being true. Still, she’s
my wife and the thought of anything happening to her is devastating. I don’t think so.
Somehow, I made it to my house without crashing the car. I spotted several police cars out front
and yellow caution tape around my house. What the fuck happened? My heart is pounding so hard I
feel it in my ears, my breaths come fast and harsh. I’m dizzy as I run into the yard and spot Liam,
Mercy, Elle, and Max sitting on the grass. I’ll step over the caution tape; I won’t be kept out of my
own damn house.
Liam comes up behind me and grabs my arm, “You can’t go in right now. And you don’t need to
see her like that.”
I pull back my arm and punch him in the jaw, “This is my house, she is my wife. I don’t need you
to tell me what the fuck I can and can’t do.”
Liam has been my best friend since we were in ninth grade when I moved to the Poconos. But
right now, he’s pissing me off. My wife is inside my house all alone, and I need to get to her. My heart
races even more as I attempt to catch my breath.
 Elle jumps off the ground and pulls me into her arms, “Xan, look at me.”
I glance at her, and the anger dissipates slightly. Elle has always had this effect on me. She’s like
finally coming home after being away for months at a time. I’ve never understood it.
She touches my cheek gently, “We need to go to a hotel. A crime was committed. They aren’t
going to let you in.”
“I need to see her,” I say softly.
Unshed tears fill my eyes as I hold onto her like she’s the only thing keeping me afloat.
“They will let you see her after she’s cleaned up. You don’t need that image in your head, Xan,”
she says softly.
“Is she dead?”
She tightens her hold, squeezing me firmly, “Yes, honey, she’s gone. I’m sorry, Xan.” Elle
continues to hold me, “I’m going to book the hotel, okay?”
I nod as she pulls away in search of her phone.
Isabella is dead. Someone took her life. We have to find out who it was. It was the stalker, I’m
sure of it. She wouldn’t listen to anybody about having security and he finally turned violent. It was
far worse than I ever expected. He was a reader of hers and annoyed me. No man is cool with another
man sending his wife flowers. According to the police he was an overzealous fan and meant no harm.
However, now I figure it had to be him because who else could it possibly be? Then there was the
day the cameras were cut, and her panties disappeared. I’m no expert but that doesn’t sound harmless
to me.
A short female officer, with red hair, walks up to me and says, “We will be there shortly to ask
you some questions. Which hotel will you be staying at?”
I shrug and defer her question to Elle because I don’t have a clue where we are going. I stand in
front of my house, my eyes darting around at the people standing outside with me. Emotionally, I’m
vacant, trying to process what’s happening. I’m here, but it's like I’m not. I’m floating somewhere
above, listening to the voices speak.
I hear Elle and Liam talking, “Elle you can stay with us,” he says.
I’m relieved to hear her response, “I’m not leaving Xan. Where he goes, I go.”
I don’t want all these people around, but I don’t want to be completely alone either. Elle has been
staying with us for months, I’m so used to her being around. She takes my hand, “Come on. I’ll drive.”
We walk over to the car and Elle stares at me, expectantly.
“What?”
“I need the keys, honey.”
“Right, sorry,” I fumble through my pockets and retrieve my keys and hand them to her. She
unlocks my car, opens my door, and stands there while I get inside. She runs her fingers through my
hair and kisses my cheek, “I’m going to be here for you, Xan, every step of the way. I’ll help you
through this, whatever you need, you just tell me.”
I nod, and swallow down the lump in my throat.
She gets in and starts driving.
“I’m going to need to get into the house. I don’t have any clothes for work tomorrow. All I have
are the scrubs I’m wearing.”
Reaching over she takes my hand in hers, “Xan, you aren’t going to work tomorrow.”
I shake my head, “Right, I’m not thinking clearly.”
 She squeezes my hand, “It’s okay.”
Isabella is gone. I keep repeating that fact in my head. It’s unbelievable and I’m having trouble
accepting it. The police said it was a stabbing. Were my cameras cut again? I need to remember to get
my laptop out of the car so I can see if there’s a video of today in the cloud. Again, I ask myself if it
was the stalker. I’ve wondered for months if something was going on with Isabella that I didn’t know
about. She’s been cold and distant for a while, but the last month has been unbearable. Now, it’s too
late. We’ll never fix what was broken because she’s gone. That’s the hardest part of death, it's just so
final. All the things you wish you could say will be left unsaid.
We arrive at the hotel and Elle hands the key to the valet attendant and puts her arm around me as
we walk inside. Max keeps a distance behind us.
She smiles softly, “Sit here while I check us in,” she points to a chair near the check-in desk. I nod
and sit while my mind retraces the events of what I know, which isn’t much. I don’t know the details
of my wife’s murder. I suspect it was the stalker, but I don’t know anything for sure. It could’ve been
anybody. I glare at Max. Where was he? Did the police account for his whereabouts? He would’ve
had access to Isabella and he’s physically capable.
Elle comes back with four room keys, and we walk to the elevators with Max following behind
us. She hands him a key to his room. Does she have a card for my room as well as hers?
“Don’t we only need one key?”
She takes my hand after she presses the number two button, “Xan, I need to be able to check on
you. I don’t think you should be alone right now with no way to contact you.”
I smirk, “Are you waiting for me to snap, Angel?”
She gasps, “I guess I am.”
“Me too,” I breathe.
We enter the first hotel room, and she immediately goes and opens the adjoining door and grins at
me, “Even better.”
I shake my head, “I’m okay, Elle.”
She gives me a look that tells me she doesn’t believe me, “Sit, I’ll make you a drink.”
A few minutes later, she hands me a scotch.
“Thank you.”
She smiles, “Let me know if you need anything else.”
I nod, and take a long sip of my drink, the burn feels good.
There’s a knock at the door and Elle goes to answer it before I have the chance. It’s Liam and
Mercy.
Liam pulls up a chair beside me and sits down, “Xander, I have to tell you something about
Isabella.” He glances at me and then down at his hands, “She was having an affair, Xander.”
My eyes snap to his, I’m instantly seeing red, “She just fucking died. You can’t wait to talk shit
about my dead wife?”
He sighs audibly, “You needed to know. She was pregnant by another man.”
I swallow down the bile in my throat, “What?”
What the hell is he talking about? We did not have a perfect marriage like so many people seem to
believe. But pregnant by another man? How can this be happening? I know without a doubt if she was
pregnant, it wasn’t mine.
Mercy says, “For almost a year.”
 Is this why we hadn’t had sex for nearly a year? She was fucking someone else? I’ve been a
patient and understanding husband. No, I’ve been a fucking fool.
Isabella was fucking someone else. Suddenly, it’s all coming together. How could I have not
known?
There’s another knock at the door and Elle goes to answer it, shocked expression, and all. It’s the
police, so she lets them in. The short redheaded officer walks over to me with a notebook in her hand.
“Where were you this morning?”
Here we go, the husband is always the first suspect. Liam knows all too well about that, although,
they weren’t married yet when he was tossed in jail for Mercy’s kidnapping and suspected murder.
“The hospital. In surgery,” I take a gulp of my drink.
“Did you have sex with your wife this morning?
I snap my head up at her with a glare, “No. I told you, I was at the fucking hospital. Why?”
“She had semen inside her and on her clothes,” she states matter-of-factly."
I laugh again, Elle comes and puts her hand around my shoulder, “Of course she did. I’m told my
wife was having an affair. Oh, and here’s a bonus for you, she was pregnant by another man!”
“We’ll need to swab you for DNA to rule you out as a suspect.”
I grip the chair with my left hand tightly, “Fine.”
She calls a man over, “This is Paco. He works for the crime lab. He needs to swab your cheek
and then we’ll leave. Don’t leave town. We will have follow-up questions. Also, we will be
accessing your cameras.”
I nod, “She had a stalker. You should have reports on that.”
He swabs the inside of my left cheek and then the other and puts it into a bag.
The officer nods and they both leave.
“Elle, can you bring me my laptop?”
She brings it to me, and I set it up with three sets of curious eyes.
“Xan, what are you doing?” Elle asks and suddenly realizes I’m watching a video from my house.
“I want to know what the fuck happened,” I snap."
“Xander, you don’t want to see this,” Liam says.
I’m getting really tired of being told what I should or shouldn’t do. I want to know what the hell
happened and I’m going to find out with or without their approval.
“I’m fucking watching it. If you don’t want to see it, there’s the door,” I bite.
They all sit around me like it’s fucking movie night with the kids. I press play.
“Baby girl, go sit on the couch. You don’t need to see this,” Liam says to Mercy. I roll my eyes.
Really none of these fuckers need to be here.
Isabella goes to the door dressed in black lingerie. Lingerie I fucking bought her; I might add.
Priceless, isn’t it?
She opens the door, and a familiar face enters the frame and grabs her, kissing her before they
even shut the door, everyone in the room gasps.
Dr. Shane Jacobs has been fucking my wife and got her pregnant. Something I had been trying to
do for years before she stopped having sex with me altogether. I knew neither of us were happy. But I
had remained faithful and assumed she was as well.
I glance at Mercy, “Did you know?”
She sits on the couch with Liam and shakes her head, “No, of course not. I would’ve told you. I
had no idea who it was, she never said.”
Elle glares at her, “You knew?”
Mercy nods, appearing ashamed as she should be. She knew Isabella was pregnant by another
man and said nothing. I’ve always been fond of her and expected better than her keeping a secret like
this.
I tune Liam and his fight with Mercy out as I continue to watch the video. I glance back at the
screen and watch Jacobs getting ready to have sex with my wife.
“Xan, you don’t need to watch this.”
I know this must be hard for Elle after all she was close to Isabella, but I respond, “Yeah, I do.
Look at that. My lovely wife.”
He gets on top of her, and I watch him have sex with her. I can’t even begin to explain what that
feels like. When he climbs off her, and they start talking, I turn the sound up to hear what they are
saying. I’m not heartbroken that she let another man touch her. I’m pissed at her and at myself. How
could I have been so blind? I should have known.
“Are you going to leave him? I’m getting tired of you telling me soon. It’s been almost a year.”
So, he is the reason my wife stopped having sex with me. I take the last swallow of my drink
while I seethe.
“Not yet. But I promise soon,” Isabella says.
I watch Jacob’s storm into the kitchen and grab my liquor and drink it from the bottle. Why the
hell not? He already had my wife how many times, he may as well have the alcohol too.
“When is soon, Izzy? It’s been almost a fucking year. I’m tired of waiting. Your excuses are getting
old.”
“A couple of months, maybe.”
He slams the bottle on the counter, Elle jumps at the sound. I take her hand and squeeze it.
“Have you been fucking him?” He screams.
“No, I haven’t in nearly a year! And I know you’ve been fucking other women, so why does it
even matter?”
“It matters because I fucking say it does!” He yells.
My heart starts beating faster when he grabs a large knife, storms over to her, and holds it in a
threatening stance. She cries, “Please don’t, I’m pregnant!”
“Turn away, Elle,” I say.
The expression on his face shows he’s horrified that she’s pregnant. The thing she thought would
save her life is about to end it instead.
I watch as the knife comes down, plunging into her abdomen.
He pulls it out and stabs her many more times. I lose count after twelve.
The last words Isabella utters are, “The baby is yours.”
He looks destroyed when he hears her words, runs his hands through his hair, sobbing, and leaves
her with a knife in her stomach. He doesn’t bother to call 9-1-1 or try to save her. He runs away like a
fucking pussy.
Chapter One
 XANDER

FINALLY, Liam and Mercy leave, and I’ve never been happier. Happy. What a funny word. If I’m
honest with myself, Isabella and I were never happy. We got married after she told me she was
pregnant. I thought it was the right thing to do. I was stepping up to be the father our child needed.
Imagine my surprise when she told me she had a miscarriage two weeks after our wedding. What’s a
man in that situation to do? Leave her? We took vows, and I, for one, took them seriously. Obviously,
she didn’t feel the same. I would’ve stayed married to her for the rest of my life because you don’t
divorce. That’s something I learned from my very catholic parents. I say very catholic because they
aren’t just Catholic. They are Eucharistic Ministers, go on cruises with Priests, Bishops, and
Cardinals. I know what you’re thinking. People imagine Priests to be poor, but they aren’t. Many of
the ones I know make over $100,000 a year. While they do not take a vow of poverty, they are
expected to lead a life of simplicity consistent with the people they serve. Then there are the ones that
help themselves to the collection plate before the amounts are recorded. “For the love of money is a
root of all kinds of evil. Some people, eager for money, have wandered from the faith and pierced
themselves with many griefs” (1 Tim. 6:6-10).
I glance over at Elle while she texts on her cell phone. She’s a beautiful woman, inside and out.
She’s Liam’s little sister, that's how we met. I’ve known her nearly all her life. When you hear people
talk about someone having a beautiful soul, she’s the kind of person they are speaking about. Elle is
an angel; she almost always puts others before herself. My situation is a great example of that. She
doesn’t have to be here with me. Making sure I don’t fall apart is not her responsibility, but she takes
it on, nonetheless. She disconnects her call and brings me another drink.
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Angel?”
Her cheeks flush the brightest shade of red. Fuck. That’s so beautiful. Don’t judge me, it’s been a
year since I got laid. And a man could do far fucking worse than Elle Lexington. But I won’t. It’s not
because I’m old enough to be her father. She’s Liam’s sister, that's reason number one. Number two, it
would kill me to hurt her. That will never be an option.
I sit in the same chair I’ve been in since Liam and Mercy were here, my legs spread, leaning back
with my drink in my hand.
She kneels before me, between my legs. I’m only human so my cock stiffens as she stares at me.
“Xan, how can I help you? Is there anything I can do for you?”
Fuck yes, you can suck my cock with those beautiful lips. Liam’s little sister, yeah, I know.
“Elle, I’m a man. A man who hasn’t had sex in a year. I need you to get off your knees, Angel.”
 She gasps and turns another delicious shade of red but gets off her knees.
“Better?” She smirks.
“Yes.”
I know I can never touch her. I’ve been abstinent for the last year while my wife has been off
fucking some asshole. The same one that tried to get into Mercy’s pants. My urge is to go stick my
dick in the closest pussy. Angry sex. Revenge sex. A girl like Elle, you don’t fucking do that to,
whether she’s your friend’s sister or not. She deserves the world. Love, romance, flowers, all that
shit. She’s not the kind of woman you fuck and then discard like trash.
“I ordered dinner, Xan. It will be here soon.”
I take a gulp of my drink and then mumble, “I’m not hungry.”
She stands in front of me, her hands on her hips, “You need to eat. It’s not optional.”
Something about the stance makes me think of Isabella and I see fucking red. The anger rises in me
like a volcano. Before my brain has an opportunity to process anything, I throw the glass I’m holding,
it hits a lamp and smashes against the wall. It happens in slow motion. The glass shatters into a
million pieces, Elle runs to the corner and crouches down. It’s the sound coming from her that snaps
me back to reality. Broken sobs break free from her chest. I glance over, tears are streaming down her
face. When I see her huddled, afraid of me, something in me cracks. I walk over to her squatting down
in front of her attempting to not appear threatening, “Angel, I’m sorry.”
She’s sitting down, her arms around her knees, and trembling. What a fucking asshole. The one
person who won’t leave my side, and this is how I repay her.
“Elle, please don’t be afraid of me. I was angry but I’d never hurt you.”
Her breathing slowly returns to normal, and she wipes the tears from her cheeks as she stands.
“I’m going to go to the other room. Text me if you need something.” She practically runs and shuts the
adjoining door locking it.
What have I done? Wait. Who did this to her? I would have thought she might have yelled at me.
But she cowered in the corner, terrified. She acted like she thought I was going to hurt her. I never
have and I never will. But someone did, I am sure of it. I’m tempted to go bang on the door, but I
realize that’s a bad idea and I might spook her further, so I text her like she requested.
Me: Angel I’m sorry. Will you please come talk to me?
Elle: Later.
Me: Please. I need you.
Yeah, I’ll pull the needy card if that’s what it takes to get her to talk to me.
Slowly, she opens the door and enters.
“That won’t happen again, I promise.”
“Right,” she says under her breath.
She’s heard that before. From whom, I don’t know but I am going to find out. If someone hurt her,
there will be fucking hell to pay. I watch her as she sits on the couch and pulls her legs up underneath
her. Her long blonde hair is hanging down over her shoulders. I sit beside her, and she turns to me.
She’s still uneasy but not terrified.
“I’m sorry.”
She nods, “I know you are.”
I take her hand in mine and rub the back of it gently. “I would never hurt you, Angel. But someone
did, didn’t they?”
 She shakes her head, “Xan, this night is not about me.”
“I’m making it about you. Tell me what happened.”
She lets out an audible sigh, “It was a long time ago. I don’t know why I reacted the way I did
tonight,” she stops, briefly appearing lost in thought as she fidgets with her fingers, “It was my first
boyfriend in high school. He hit me when I made him angry. Michael used to throw things when he
was upset. It would escalate from there.”
Michael Kingsley. I remember that asshole. I never liked him, and always thought Elle was too
good for him. But I figured I’d think that about anyone she dated. I never knew he was violent with
her. Shit. In hindsight, I should’ve known. She was doing a lot of gymnastics at the time and constantly
getting bruised and that was always the reason she gave.
“The bruises?” I ask.
She nods, “They were from Michael not gymnastics.”
And now Michael is going to learn a painful lesson, “Does Liam know?”
Shaking her head she says, “No, and you’re not going to tell him, Xan. It’s in the past.”
A knock at the door interrupts us.
“Do you want to get that while I sweep up the glass?”
She nods, “Okay.”
I grab the broom and dustpan out of the closet and clean up my mess. I vow to myself to never
scare her like that again. My behavior was out of line, and I can’t ever snap like that around her. Oh,
and I will deal with Michael. Had I known, he would’ve been dealt with long ago. Just because it’s in
the past does not mean it’ll simply be swept under the rug. Michael Kingsley, I will find you.
Elle opens the door and gets the dinner she ordered. She turns to me with a smile and unpacks the
bag on the table.
I try to eat healthy the majority of the time. I work hard to stay in shape and don’t want to blow it
with my diet. After all, 80% of staying in shape is what we put into our bodies. But she knows me
well. Thai is my comfort food and after today, I’m in need of comfort.
She points to the food on the table and smiles, “Shrimp Pad Thai, no tofu, and extra shrimp of
course.”
I chuckle, “You know me well.”
We sit eating in silence when she suddenly speaks, “What happened between you two?”
“Isabella?” I ask.
She nods as she puts a forkful of shrimp in her mouth.
“We weren’t sexually compatible. Other than that, I’m not really sure. Years ago, we stopped
communicating. She played the happy wife better than an Oscar award winning actress. Behind
closed doors we barely spoke.”
There’s a lot I leave out, but they are things I don’t want to talk about. I don’t think she needs to
know all the details. I hate that even I know them.
She puts her fork down and stares at me, “But you were in love with her, obviously, that’s why
you married her.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, and stare at the wall. It’s uncomfortable to look at her while I
speak these words because I already know what she’ll think.
“I wasn’t. I never was. Three months after we started dating, I told her it was over. Then, Isabella
told me she was pregnant. I did what I was raised to do. I married her almost immediately. It was
important to my family that the child not be born out of wedlock. Two weeks later she told me she
miscarried.”
Chapter Two
 XANDER

“YOU WEREN’T HAPPY, EVER?” She asks after taking a drink of her tea.
I smile sadly, “No, I wasn’t.”
She sets her glass on the table and sadness overcomes her expression, “Why did you stay?”
I sigh audibly, “It was the right thing to do.”
In my family, that is what was expected of a man. My sister was expected to be a nun. I’m not sure
why I wasn’t expected to be a Priest. But I’m glad the subject never came up. Marrying Isabella was
never an option once my parents found out she was pregnant. What would their friends from Church
think?
“If you had been married to me, I wouldn’t want you to stay out of obligation. I would want you to
stay because you wanted to be with me.”
“You’re really beautiful. It’s disarming.”
Her cheeks redden as she smiles a shy smile.
“Oh, come on. You’re a supermodel, you know you’re beautiful.”
She giggles uncomfortably, “It’s different coming from you.”
She attempts to change the subject by asking, “Is there anything you want to do? There’s a rooftop
pool. Or we could watch a movie. Or we could just talk or say nothing at all.”
When she gets nervous or uncomfortable, she rambles. It’s adorable and makes me want to make
her uneasy a little more often.
I smile, “You’re perfect, Elle.”
Her cheeks flush a gorgeous crimson while she fidgets uncomfortably. People must tell her all the
time how gorgeous she is. How can it even phase her at this point? As stunning as she is, what draws
me to her most is not physical. It’s her ability to love. The way she decided she would be here for me
without question is what really gets me. Elle has a flourishing career but is putting it all on the
backburner to hold my hand. I would be just fine if she left to do what she needs to do. But I won’t lie
and say I’m not glad she’s here with me. Elle makes everything a little more bearable.
“We can stay in and maybe go for a swim tomorrow,” I say.
She smiles affectionately, “I’m going to get changed.”
I nod, “Yeah me too.”
After she gets her clothes and heads to the bedroom, I rifle through the bag of clothes Mercy got
from the giftshop for us, looking for something to wear. Underwear, a shirt that will never fit, no
shorts. Great.
 Elle comes out in a short nightgown and gapes at me when she sees me standing in nothing but
boxer shorts.
“I’ll put my scrubs back on. I guess they didn’t have clothes my size beyond underwear.”
She giggles, “Xan, it’s fine. You are kind of huge, you probably don’t wear normal size clothing?”
I raise an eyebrow, “Are you calling me fat, Angel?”
Her eyes drop to my chest, “Xan, no. I don’t think you have an ounce of fat anywhere.”
Was she just checking me out? Has she done that before? No, I wouldn’t have missed that. I’m
sure it didn’t mean anything, totally normal when you’ve got a nearly naked man standing in front of
you.
“Let's watch a movie.”
She nods as she averts my gaze.
I sit on the end of the couch; she sits in the middle, and I watch as she uses the remote and tries to
find something to watch. She’s wearing a black nightgown with lace at the bottom, her blonde hair is
up in a messy bun, exposing her neck. I’ve never seen her like this. There’s something different about
her. Elle and I have always spent a lot of time together whenever she’s been in town. But it’s always
been her, Isabella, and me. We haven’t spent time alone together until now. She puts on a comedy
which, considering today, is probably a wise choice.
We watched this silly movie with Mark Wahlberg and Kevin Hart when she giggles, something in
my chest twists.
“Is it cold in here?” She asks.
“Not really. Come here, Angel.”
She curls up in my arms, “You’re warm, Xan.”
When she lays her head on my chest my heart races, I really hope she doesn’t notice. It has been
entirely too long since I got laid. A year for a man like me, is way too fucking long. I’d probably fuck
about anything right now. That’s all this is. My body is simply reacting to a female being near me after
almost a year of abstinence.
She falls asleep in my arms, her face is nuzzled up against my neck, her lips slightly parted, her
warm breath on my skin. My dick is hard as a rock. Fantastic. My best friend’s little sister is setting
my body on fire. I need to get up and get away from her. But do I do that? No, of course not, because
that would be the sensible thing to do. Instead, I run my hand through her hair while she moans in her
sleep. Fuck.
This is Elle, Xander. Liam’s little sister. Nobody could blame you for going out and banging the
first pussy you find after finding out about your cheating wife, but not her. Fuck, anybody but her.
I go to move, and she wraps her arms around my waist. God, she’s beautiful. Has she always
smelled like this? She smells like fucking delectable candy. How could I never have noticed? I turn
onto my side and hold her in my arms, staring at her face. I brush my thumb across her bottom lip.
Fuck, I’m thinking the most unpure thoughts about her. Liam’s sister, I remind myself.
The rest of the night, I keep my hands to myself, but I can’t stop wondering what those lips would
taste like, feel like. Yeah, I’m going to need to fuck someone and soon before I do something I know I
shouldn’t. When her night gown twists, and I see her ass with a tiny fucking lacy thong I know I’m in
trouble. I’m never getting this image from my head or my dick. I place my hand on her thigh, and I
want so badly to move my hand higher. That gorgeous ass calls to me, but I force my fingers away
from her skin. I pull them away, although it’s the last thing I want to do. And vow to keep my hands to
myself.

I wake up the next morning with the sun glaring through the window shining in my eyes. I groan with
an arm laying over my eyes to block the sun, Elle is on top of me with her face in my neck. She moves
her head and brushes her lips across my skin, my cock fucking throbs. Still half asleep, she says,
“What the hell is that?” And grabs my dick. She opens her eyes with a horrified expression and jumps
off the couch.
“Oh my GOD!” She yells.
I don’t move, still laying on my back chuckling, “Morning, Angel.”
“What the fuck, Xan?”
“It’s the male condition. I wake up with it every morning.”
Her face is the reddest I’ve ever seen, and I love it, “Yeah, well you were stabbing me with your
monster cock.”
I grin, “Unintentional. That’s what happens when you lay on top of me while I’m sleeping. I’m
sorry.”
Her eyes stay focused on my underwear or, more so, what’s inside.
“Angel, as long as you keep staring at the monster cock it won’t go down.”
“Oh my God!” She squeals, “I’m going to put a bathing suit on.”
I get a call saying the house has been processed, and we can return home, so I yell to her, “Get
dressed. We’ll go swimming at the house. We can go back.”
“Okay,” she yells back.
I pull yesterday’s scrubs on after disconnecting my call. My heart begins to race when Elle comes
out. Trying to force my eyes to her face, I fail miserably as my gaze moves up and down her body.
She did not get fully dressed. Standing in front of me, she’s wearing a bikini and a black see-
through swimsuit cover up. It doesn’t cover much. I can see her skin through it.
“Let’s go,” I say, attempting to dismiss my thoughts of every dirty thing I want to do to her.
She nods, and we walk to the elevator.
I shake my head as we step inside trying to clear my head.
“What’s wrong, Xan?”
She gazes at me with those fucking blue eyes, the kind that could bring a man to his knees begging
for just a taste. Not me, I will not be that man.
“Nothing.”
“Xan, talk to me.”
I push her against the wall of the elevator, “Don’t fucking push me. Don’t. I only have so much
control, Angel.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip, “Just don’t,” I say in a low voice.
She intakes a sharp breath and nods.
A year is a long time without sex. But it’s never bothered me more than it is right now. I don’t
even want to have sex with her. Okay, I really fucking do. But I’d settle for dropping to my knees,
spreading those beautiful fucking legs, and tasting her. I wonder what she tastes like. It’s the same
question I asked myself all night long—that and how beautiful she must sound when she comes.
Liam’s little sister. Fuck. Why does that fact seem to keep escaping me?
 “I’m texting Max to let him know we’re going back to the house.”
I nod and blow out a long stressed-out breath. We walk out to the valet to pick up my car and Max
is right behind us.
“Xander wait,” he says.
I turn around to face him and he runs his hand through his hair.
“I have cleaners coming and you should wait until they finish before you go back.”
He thinks I can’t handle a little blood. I’m a surgeon, I’ve had my hands inside body cavities. I’m
sure I can handle it.
But I can’t hide the smirk, “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be just fine.”
He nods and gives the attendant his ticket.
A few minutes later both of our vehicles are brought to us, we get in, and are on our way. She’s
quiet on the drive to my house.
“If you don’t want to go to the house I understand. You could go to Liam’s.”
“No. I’ll be okay,” she says with a shake of her head.
Chapter Three
 XANDER

WHEN WE ARRIVE, I park in the driveway and Max parks beside me. We get out and go to the
door. I enter my code and open the door. Elle and I enter first with Max behind us. You hear people
saying that something smells like death. But if you ever smelled death, you’d never say that again.
There’s no description to explain it sufficiently. It smells of pungent rotting meat, shit, and vomit all
rolled into one.
Isabella had not been dead for long when she was found, so I thought the scent would be mild. It
is not.
Elle covers her mouth with her hands as she stares at the couch soaked in Isabella’s blood, tears
fall from her eyes, and she trembles like a leaf in a windstorm.
My stomach is weak, my heart hurts from the way Isabella’s life ended. While she was a horrible
bitch to me, no one should die like that.
I grab Elle’s hand and take her outside and she vomits in the flowerbed. I hold her hair and rub
her back while she empties the contents of her stomach.
Max stands there being himself, a fucking stone wall. Business as usual. A man pulls up in a black
Range Rover and gets out, walking up to Max.
“We’re going to Liam’s,” I say.
Max nods, “I expected as much. Trevor is going to stay with you until the cleaners are done. I’ll
head over when they leave.”
I pull Elle into my arms and kiss her forehead, “Cleaners? What are you? Mafia?” I chuckle.
With a serious expression he states, “No, I'm not mafia.”
For the first time ever, I suspect that there might be more to Max than meets the eye. I open my
mouth to question him further but instead just say, “Call me when we can come back. There’s no need
to go to Liam’s. I won’t be staying there longer than necessary.”
He nods and helps Elle into my vehicle, and I slide into the driver's side.
“That’s fine, Trevor will follow you back then. I don’t want Elle left without security.”
We head to Liam’s, and I am wondering who Trevor is. I’ve never seen him before, but he must be
equipped to handle security. He certainly looks like he could handle a fair bit of trouble. He’s around
six five and broad, dark hair, threatening ice like eyes and bigger than me which is saying a lot. I’m
not a small man.
Reaching over I take Elle’s hand in mine, “Are you okay, Angel?”
I glance at her and see her eyes filled with unshed tears and she bites her bottom lip. She shakes
her head as if trying to regain composure.
“Xan, it’s all too much. Isabella cheating on you, the way she was brutally murdered, the baby,
seeing her blood on the wall and couch, the way it poured onto the floor. I don’t think I’ll ever get that
image out of my head. And the smell. It burned my nostrils; I can still smell it.”
I squeeze her hand as I pull into Liam’s driveway, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think it would be that bad
since she hadn’t been dead long when she was found. We should have waited. I’m sorry.”
She laughs, “I didn’t think it would be that bad either. It’s not your fault.”
We walk into their house and Mercy is there with a smile on her face, “I made you some food
after I got Elle’s text. There’s wine and scotch on the table. Help yourselves. Elle, there are shorts on
the bed for you, and Xander, help yourself to Liam’s closet.”
Both of us head to the master bedroom so we can get changed. Elle pulls on the jean shorts and
heads out towards the kitchen with Mercy. After searching for clothes, I opt for gray sweatpants that
are a little snug, and a black t-shirt that’s definitely tight. This is not my best look. I’m bigger than
Liam, so his clothes aren’t a perfect fit, but they will do until I can get into the house. At least they're
clean.
Walking into the kitchen, Mercy and Elle are deep in conversation about kids.
Trevor stands in the corner looking like a bodyguard. No expressions, stony like Max.
I stifle the laughter bubbling in my throat. He’s literally in the same spot Max stands when he’s
here with Elle. Must be a security thing, wanting to stay close enough to intervene if something
happens but far enough away not to be intrusive.
I take a seat beside Elle but tune them out. I’m not interested in this topic in the least. It makes me
angry thinking about Isabella’s baby. I’m pissed that she cheated on me and got pregnant. And I’m
even more angry that he took the life of an innocent child, all because he thought it was mine.
I’m taking a gulp of my scotch, enjoying the burn when I get a text message.
Max: The same kind of couch okay?
Me: What?
Max: I’m having a new one brought in.
Me: You don’t have to do that but yeah that’s fine.
Max: I’ll bill you for it, don’t worry.
I chuckle, I wouldn’t expect him to do it for free. I’ll be impressed if he can get a couch on such
short notice. Doesn’t it normally take weeks for furniture to be delivered? That’s always been my
experience.
Mercy excuses herself to the restroom and Elle reaches over and touches my arm affectionately,
“Are you okay, Xan?”
Glancing at her, concerned blue eyes stare into mine, she strokes her fingers down my forearm and
I can’t breathe.
I swallow the lump in my throat, “I’m fine, Angel.”
When she hears Mercy coming down the hallway, she retracts her hand as if my arm was a fire
burning her fingers. There is nothing I need right now more than getting away from her. Every glance,
every touch, makes my heart race, and I know it’s not okay.
“I’m going to go use Liam’s gym.”
Mercy smiles, “That’s fine.”
I head to his basement where his gym is. It’s laid out almost identical to mine since I helped him
set it up. Starting with the treadmill, I run for nearly an hour, losing track of time. A million thoughts
race through my head, Isabella, what she did, her dead body, and Elle. I’m not an emotional guy, I
don’t cry about shit I can’t change. But right now, my rage is like a dam ready to burst. I never
imagined finding out my wife is dead and learning she was cheating on me and pregnant by another
man all on the same day. It’s not something you can even explain. The anger is the part of it I
understand. I want to be angry. Why should I feel sad that she’s gone? She broke every promise she
ever made to me. I knew she was a terrible person long before she died. But I thought she was
faithful. I laugh at myself. Isabella was a monster, why should it even surprise me? She robbed me of
two decades of my life. Time I’ll never get back, just gone.
I took her out for dinner with plans to end things. There was nothing wrong with her at the
time, but I simply was not feeling it. I’m not the type to stick around if I’m not truly in it. And to be
honest my three months with Isabella was my longest relationship at that point. I get bored with
women, fast. No one has ever held my attention for longer than a few weeks.
After dinner, I took her to the lake to talk. We sat on a bench overlooking the water. We were
the only ones there that night, so it was quiet. The perfect setting to break someone's heart.
“Isabella, you’re a great person, but I think we should stop seeing each other.”
She gasps, “Xander, what?”
I watched as she blinked fast trying to prevent her unshed tears from falling.
The tears were there in her eyes and gone in an instant as anger took over her expression.
“I’m pregnant. I’ll just have an abortion.”
Seven words changed my life in an instant. There was no way I was going to stand by and not
fight for my child’s life. Isabella knew that.
“That changes things. We’ll get married, I’ll take care of both of you.”
I pulled her into my arms and kissed her on the forehead. Never even considering any other
option. It’s how I was raised. Do the right thing, take care of her and your baby. If you have sex
even protected, you better be ready to handle the consequences.
Two weeks later, I started asking questions about her seeing a doctor. I wanted to be sure she
was getting the best prenatal care. I bought her vitamins, but she wasn’t taking them. I couldn’t
understand why.
“I had a miscarriage.”
The rug had been pulled out from underneath me. I married her because she was pregnant with
my child. But now there was no baby but a bigger rule in my family than not having children out of
wedlock was, we do not divorce. Ever. If the man cheats as my father has multiple times, still you
stay.
After I finish lifting weights, I hear an alert on my phone. Fetching it from my pocket, I read the
text from Max.
Max: It’s done.
Me: Thanks.
Heading upstairs, I find Elle in the same spot I left her and tell her we can go back. She hugs
Mercy and we leave with Trevor following in his vehicle.
“Is it weird to you that Max has cleaners on speed dial like the mob?”
She laughs, “No. I don’t think it’s like that, Xan.”
We pull into the driveway, and I let out a deep breath. Hopefully, they’ve done a good job because
I don’t want Elle to be traumatized again.
We walk through the door and holy shit. The smell is still horrible, the strong scent of bleach
stings my eyes.
“The windows are open, it’ll get better,” Max says.
I nod, “Better this than the smell of a blood bath.”
He walks Trevor out and Elle smiles at me, “I think I’ll go swimming while this airs out.”
I smile, “Go ahead.”
Normally, I really do enjoy swimming, especially after working out. But I’m not going to lie, I
want to see underneath that cover up. I should steer clear of the pool, obviously that’s the smart thing
to do. But I’m into self-torture, apparently, so I put my swim shorts on and walk out to the pool. Fuck
me. Elle is standing on the deck of my pool in a white bikini, bent over smelling one of the roses.
I clear my throat and she spins around, “These roses are beautiful.”
My gaze drops down her body and back up to her face. Maybe I should go to that club Rory, my
buddy mentioned to me. I need to get this out of my system. It’s not her, I just need to get laid. Bad.
I get into the pool, and she comes in shortly after. I’m swimming and doing a good job of avoiding
her when she comes up to me and splashes me in the face. Without thinking about it, I grab her and
pull her into my arms.
She gazes at me, her breath hitches as her eyes drop to my lips.
“Xan,” she whispers, her eyes close like she’s begging me to kiss her.
I release her, step back, “I’ve got shit to do. I’ll see you later.”
I nearly sprint back into the house, drenching the floor. I don’t even care. Walking upstairs to my
bedroom, I get naked, dry off and lay in the bed while looking at a photo I have of Elle. She looks
beautiful, staring at the camera with those alluring eyes, and a slight smile. The look in her eyes does
something powerful to me. My cock swells and is fucking weeping for her. I will never touch her
sexually. For Liam, I will control myself. I’m not going to ruin a friendship that has stood the test of
time. But I can’t control my thoughts.
Chapter Four
 XANDER

IT’S BEEN three days since Isabella died and Elle hasn’t left my side. I’m lucky I get to go to the
bathroom alone. I’m not exactly sure what she thinks will happen if I’m left to my own devices.
Today, Liam is coming over to babysit because she has some things to pick up. All I know is he better
not piss me off. I’m not happy about this situation in the least. I’m trying to remember that she wants to
be here for me. But it’s grating on my nerves. Every time she tries to get me to discuss my feelings, I
want to shove my cock down her throat to shut her up. But of course, that’s something I can’t do.
Elle comes into my office where I’ve been pretending to work, to get some space.
“Liam’s in the sitting room, waiting for you. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She turns to walk away and stops, turning toward me. I swallow hard as she steps to me and runs
her hand along the stubble on my cheek, “Can you try to be nice?”
I drag my fingers down her arm watching goosebumps appear, as my gaze travels to her face, I
spot her pebbled nipples and fuck me, I want to rip that tiny sundress off and feast on her tits.
“Please?” She gazes at me with such sweetness, it nearly gives me a fucking toothache. The truth
is there is nothing I wouldn’t do for this woman.
“Of course, Angel,” I breathe.
She turns me into a weak fucking asshole. You hear about guys being pussy whipped. My best
friend is one of them, without a doubt. But me? I haven’t had her. I never will. I’m just fucking Elle
whipped.
I shake my head and adjust myself after she leaves. I don’t need to walk in to see her brother with
my dick hard.
“Hey Asshole,” he says when I walk into the sitting room and take a seat in the chair opposite
him.
I roll my eyes, “Sorry, you got stuck with babysitting duty.”
He hands me a glass of scotch, and I take a sip as I lean back in the chair.
“She says you’ve been drinking a lot.”
Here we go. She can’t get me to talk, so she sent Liam to conduct a therapy session. I arch an
eyebrow, “Not a lot.” Besides if he were so concerned with my drinking, why is he handing me
scotch?
He runs his hands through his hair, “I thought we were really close.”
What the fuck is this shit about? We are really close. For the last twenty-seven years he’s been
like family to me.
 “What?”
He glances at me with a stressed expression, “You were having problems with Isabella and never
said a damn word to me. I thought you had the perfect marriage and were an example of what love
looks like.”
Laughing I say, “No. I’m not the example anyone should follow for anything, marriage included.”
He sighs an exasperated breath, “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I drag my hand down my face, “What would that solve? Admitting I’m a fucking failure achieves
nothing.”
He finishes his drink and reaches for the bottle on the table between us and refills both our
glasses, “Nobody should live like that Xander. Secretly miserable.”
Liam doesn’t know the half of it. It was embarrassing and that’s why he didn’t know about it. It
was easier to pretend we were happy. Apparently, we did a good job fooling people. I was the
biggest fool. She conned me because I had money. Isabella knew I could provide her with the life she
would only dream of if it weren’t for me. My Catholic upbringing gave her the ammunition she
needed. She knew damn well if she were pregnant, I’d never turn my back on her. My dad always
said, “Abstinence is the key, son. Because if you get a girl in trouble, you will do the right thing.”
The right thing of course, was to marry a girl I never loved. What I wanted didn’t matter nearly as
much as people’s opinions. What would our Priest think? Their holier than thou friends? I was young
and did exactly what my family expected of me.
“Do you want to know the funniest part?” I ask.
He nods as he sets his glass on the table.
“She was never pregnant.”
“Jesus.”
Nodding my head I sigh, “Yep.”
I remember it like it was yesterday. We had been married three years and we were fighting as
always when she slipped up.
“I fucking hate you. If I could go back in time, I never would’ve said I was pregnant. That was
my first mistake. Trust me, it has not been fucking worth it!”
Glaring at her, I have to fight myself not to strangle her, “You were never even pregnant?”
She laughs, “It’s so easy to fool an altar boy. I knew you wouldn’t want to disappoint your
parents or the Church.”
At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed at her, myself, my parents, or God.
“Whoever divorces his wife (unless the marriage is unlawful) and marries another commits
adultery,” she quoted.
The fucking devil herself is quoting the damn bible.
I expel a loud breath, “It’s over now. She’s in hell, exactly where she deserves to be, and mine is
finally over.”
He laughs, “Be more selective next time.”
Glaring at him, I rub the stubble on my jaw, “Never again.”
Elle walks in, holding a fucking cat.
“What the fuck?”
She puts it on my lap and beams at me, “I got you a friend. His name is Lucky.”
The cat looks at me with yellow eyes and jumps, clawing at my face. What the hell is wrong with
her?
“What? This is not my fucking cat,” I push him off my lap.
He sits in front of me and hisses.
“Xan, it’ll be good for you.”
Liam sits in his chair laughing hysterically. Why is he always so pleased to see me miserable?
Fucker.
“Return Lucifer to whatever hell you got him from.”
She puts her hands on her hips, “Xander. It’s Lucky. And you can’t return him.”
I shoo him away but again he claws at my hand. The way this cat looks at me is like he hates me
with everything he has. Again, he hisses. What the fuck is wrong with this cat?
“And here I thought all pussy loved you,” Liam says while continuing to laugh.
“LIAM!” Elle scolds.
I grin at her, “What’s wrong, Angel? Never heard the word pussy before?”
She storms out with Lucifer hot on her heels, “Come on Lucky, let’s get you some food.”
A fucking cat. Yeah, that’s going to solve all my problems.
When Liam finally stops laughing, he says, “I better go. Mercy has plans for us tonight.” He rubs
his jaw, trying to hide his smile, “Good luck with the cat.”
After I walk him to the door, I find Elle in the kitchen with her new pet.
“Do you think you should have asked me if it was okay before bringing this thing into my house?”
“Xan, he’s very sweet.”
I can see why she thinks so as he rubs all over her legs. She picks him up, and he nuzzles her neck.
Lucky bastard. Great. I’m jealous of a fucking cat. I seriously need to get a grip on this obsession of
mine.
“It’s not sleeping in bed with us.”
She smiles while she pets the asshole.
“That’s fine. I bought him his own bed. Didn’t I?” She coos to the cat.
I storm off to my bedroom, giving my back to Elle, and fucking Lucifer.
Chapter Five
 XANDER

I WAKE up the way I have the last six weeks with Elle draped across me. Even though my dead
wife was cheating on me, I still find it a struggle to sleep alone. It’s not because I miss Isabella. I’m
just not used to sleeping by myself. That’s what I tell myself to justify it, anyway. The truth goes
something like this. I like being close to Elle. The way she feels, her scent, I like having her in my
arms. I know nothing can ever happen, but still, I take every opportunity to have her close. It’s a mix
of pleasure and pain. When she brushes her leg against my cock in her sleep, it makes me go crazy.
Having her so close, yet untouchable is both bliss and the sweetest torture I’ve ever known.
Every morning, I memorize her face all over again. Her long eyelashes flutter lightly, her soft lips
are parted slightly. Her ash blonde hair falls past her shoulders, the sun is peeking through the
window, making it almost glow. My gaze travels the length of her body. Fuck. It should be a crime for
any woman to look this good. She’s the one woman I can never have. And the only one I crave.
As she begins to stir, waking slowly, I avert my gaze, not wanting her to catch me fantasizing
about her gorgeous body.
“Good morning,” she whispers sleepily.
“Morning, Angel.”
I kiss her on the forehead, “I’ll make coffee.”
Rising out of bed, I walk to the kitchen and start brewing the coffee.
I stand staring at the coffee maker when she walks into the kitchen and brushes her ass against my
cock as she grabs a cup and then sets it on the counter. I intake a sharp breath trying to control myself.
I lose the battle; brushing her hair off her neck I lean down and drag my lips up her skin. Just one
taste. I slide my tongue back down her neck, and she moans, “Xan.” She turns around facing me,
“Xander, we can’t.”
“I know,” I say as I slide my hands in her hair and lower my lips to hers.
“Just one taste, Angel.”
I kiss her soft and slow until she moans, grinding her hips into me, and I lose control.
Our kiss turns needy and desperate, her tongue slides against mine begging for more. She puts her
hands in my hair and pulls as she melts into me. This is wrong, I know it’s wrong. But I can’t stop
myself. I kiss and suck along her jaw, moving to the spot just below her ear and suck. She nearly
convulses as she whimpers.
I kneel in front of her, lift her nightgown, and inhale her scent. Fuck she smells incredible. I suck
her clit through the soft fabric of her lace panties.
 “No, Xan. We can’t do this. Stop.”
I look at her while trying to control my heavy breathing, “Do you want me to stop, Angel?”
She has a pained expression on her face, “No but we have to. We can’t do this.”
“Give me one good reason why we can’t,” I say as I rise to my feet.
“I’ll give you two. Liam and Isabella.”
“Isabella?” I ask with an arched eyebrow.
She pours two cups of coffee and hands me one, I take it reluctantly. Coffee is not what I want at
this moment.
Elle rolls her eyes at me, “Today is her funeral Xan. We can show enough respect to not jump into
bed together before she’s even in the ground.”
I take a gulp of coffee, “Respect? Respect? You mean because she showed me so much respect by
fucking another man for the better part of a year? In my house? In my bed? Got pregnant by him?
Respect is the last thing Isabella deserves from me.”
It’s bad enough when someone cheats. But for some reason, her being so careless to get pregnant
by him, feels like the ultimate disrespect.
I don’t say another word, I simply walk to my bedroom to take a shower and get ready for this
sham of a fucking funeral.
How do you go pay your respects for someone that had none for you? Can anyone really expect
me to show up and pretend I’ve lost my loving wife? If I’m honest with myself, she never loved me.
She loved the lifestyle my money provided. Isabella was a self-published author, and she made
money from her books, but nothing compared to what I make. She had a penchant for shopping and
treating herself like a goddamned queen. Massages daily, fresh nails every three weeks, designer
clothes, it was all part of what she thought she deserved at my cost. Meanwhile, she was fucking
another man. And Elle believes she deserves respect. Unbelievable. If it weren’t for her parents,
there wouldn’t even be a funeral. I don’t think I’m required to do anything more for her. I would have
paid for a burial or cremation but no funeral. No last respects, no more fucks given.
I’m dressed in a black suit, staring into my closet at Isabella’s clothes. There were red flags
everywhere and I ignored them all. I should have known she wasn’t being faithful. If for no other
reason, than the fact that we stopped having sex. Even people in unhappy marriages have sex. Why
did I allow that without question? Nearly a year and I said nothing. I have always had a strong sexual
appetite, but I never addressed it. Why? I’ve spent the last six weeks thinking about this. Isabella’s
funeral was delayed because her parents were out of the country. Six weeks is how long it took for
her mother to get a new passport. I don’t know how people lose such an important document.
“Xan, we should go,” Elle says as she stands behind me.
I nod, “Yeah. Let’s go respect my wife.”
She follows me out to my vehicle and we both get in and drive to the church without a word
exchanged the entire way. The tension is palpable as we pull into the parking lot.
We get out and silently walk into the church. I sit in the front row with George and Estelle,
Isabella’s parents. Elle sits with Liam and Mercy. Isabella’s mother sobs through the entire service,
clutching George with her left hand, and my arm with her right.
When people start getting up to speak about what a wonderful, loyal woman my wife was, I have
to fight the bile rising in my throat. She was anything but loyal.
Estelle leans into me, “You should say something.”
 I swallow down the bitter laugh threatening to escape. “I have nothing to say.”
She knows what I found on the video. How can she even expect such a thing? Anything I have to
say would only be hurtful to her parents. As angry as I am, I won’t do that to them. Isabella deserves
every unkind word rattling around in my head, they do not.
“She was your wife,” Estelle sobs.
“Yes, and the only reason I’m here is for you.”
My in-laws are good people. They have always treated me well. I know how broken they are, not
only about her death but the things that transpired leading up to her death. She grips my hand tighter as
the Priest says the final prayer.
“Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May their
souls and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.”
We talk as I walk them to their car to head to the burial site.
“My parents send their condolences, they wanted to be here, but they are in Spain and couldn’t get
a flight out in enough time.”
“Tell them thank you for the beautiful flowers,” Estelle says.
George doesn’t say anything but that’s not abnormal in the least. He’s always been a quiet man.
He rarely says more than two words to me. The only time he’s had much to say was the day of our
wedding.
“She’s going to be your wife. I expect you to take care of her heart.”
It’s kind of humorous now to remember him saying that because Isabella certainly didn’t give a
shit about me or my heart.
“I will,” I smile.
I help Estelle into the car, and she grabs my arm, “I will never understand why she was unfaithful
to you.”
I reply, “Me neither,” kiss her cheek, and close the door. I walk back to my vehicle and as I
expect, Elle is waiting for me. She has Liam and Mercy with her.
Liam slaps my shoulder, “Are you okay?”
No, I’m not okay. I kissed your little sister this morning and wanted to go down on her like you
wouldn't fucking believe. And now, I can’t stand to look at you. It’s as if I think you’ll know just by
looking at my face.
I clench my jaw, “Peachy.”
“We’re here for you, Xander.”
I roll my eyes, “We have to go. I’ve got a lying, cheating wife to bury.”
We get in the vehicle after Liam and Mercy walk away and I start to drive.
“Xan, I’m sorry about what I said back at the house.”
“It’s fine.”
She shakes her head and takes my hand in hers, “No, baby it’s not. Of course, you don’t owe her
anything. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Angel.”
The truth is, I want to stay mad at Elle, but I can’t. I think it would be easier to stay mad at her and
keep my feelings for her bottled up, but it won’t work. I’ve never been able to stay upset with her.
One look in those gorgeous pools of blue, and I forget what I was even angry about to begin with.
“I have a shoot tomorrow. I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
I smile, “Angel, I can be left alone. But if you’re asking me to go with you, of course I will.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Chapter Six
 ELLE

WE’RE STANDING WATCHING Isabella being buried and I can’t even believe everything
that has happened. Have you ever found out, after a good friend died, that you didn’t even know them?
Well, it sucks. I’m heartbroken. Clearly, I’m not glad she died but that’s not why I’m heartbroken. My
heart aches for Xan and what he’s going through. He wants to pretend like he doesn’t care, like it
doesn’t matter but it does. Finding out she was cheating, the way he found out, and that she was
pregnant by Shane hurt him. Xander likes to be the pillar of strength; he never wants anyone to detect
any weakness. But how could anyone remain unaffected through something like this? It’s implausible.
I stand and watch as person after person comes to Xander and Isabella’s parents to offer
condolences. They also don’t know the woman that was buried just moments ago. Shane Jacobs is
perhaps the only one who did. Most people don’t know that she was sleeping with another man. That
was Xander’s decision, not to preserve Isabella’s memory, but to protect her parents. Honestly, it’s
nobody’s business outside of immediate family anyway.
He says I can leave him alone, but the thought scares me. It’s not that I think he’s going to kill
himself or anything like that. I guess I don’t want him to suffer alone. I have this strong need to make
everything okay for him. That’s why I got him the cat thinking it would help. Stupid idea. Keeping him
close is my way of doing that, although, I don’t know if I’m doing more harm than good.
After the hundredth person comes up saying that Isabella was such a good woman and Xander
looks on the edge of snapping, I grab his arm, “Okay, Xan, let’s go.”
I get a couple of strange looks, but I ignore them. None of these people or their opinions matter.
Liam comes up and grabs Xander’s arm as we’re walking to the parking lot.
“We need to talk,” Liam says.
Liam says something to him as I walk with Mercy, but I can’t hear him. He’s being intentionally
quiet.
But Xander I can hear.
“Let me tell you asshole, I fuck who I want, your baby sister included. But I have not fucked her. If
I had, she wouldn’t be walking straight.”
“WATCH YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” Liam yells.
I go to run between them, but Mercy grabs my arm to stop me.
“Let them deal with this, Elle.”
Xander laughs, “Your timing is impeccable once again. First, you tell me my wife was cheating on
the day she died. Then, you want to question my intentions toward your sister on the day Isabella is
buried. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I would have told you if I had known before she died. You know that,” Liam says.
“I’m not sleeping with him,” I say to Mercy.
She laughs, “My husband is very protective of his little sister. Ever since Isabella died, he
worries about you staying at the house alone with Xander. He trusted married Xander. But single
Xander? Not so much.”
I roll my eyes, “I am a grown woman, completely capable of deciding what’s right for my
vagina.”
Xander looks ready to brawl, “Have I ever had ill motives when it comes to Elle?”
As we get closer to them, Mercy speaks loudly, “Are you animals ready to act like the humans you
are?”
“Sorry, baby,” Liam says as he pulls her into his arms.
I take Xander’s hand, “Let’s get you home.”
He stares at Liam a minute longer and turns toward me to walk to his vehicle.
We get into the vehicle, and he mutters under his breath, “Asshole.”
I sigh, “Yeah, he is but you didn’t help.”
“What did I do?” He smirks at me.
“‘If I had she wouldn’t be walking straight’? Really, Xan?”
He shrugs as he turns the steering wheel, “It’s the truth, Angel. If I fucked you… I’d fuck you so
hard and so many times you wouldn’t walk for a week.”
I gasp, “Xan.”
He’s quiet for the rest of the drive clearly in deep thought. I just look out the window giving him
the space he seems to need.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that to Liam,” he says as he pulls into the driveway.
Xander gets out of the car first and I stand beside the car with his words running through my head.
He walks around to my side of the car and places his hands on the vehicle on either side of me, caging
me in.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you, Angel?” He runs his lips up my neck. “You don’t hide your
feelings well, Elle,” he says in a husky voice, “You’re thinking about my mouth on every inch of your
body.”
“Xan,” I whimper, “What do you want from me? You know we can’t be together.”
“I want to taste every fucking inch of you. I want you to come on my tongue. I want to make you
scream my name until your voice is hoarse. I want to finish with you and for you to beg me for more. I
know it can’t happen Elle, but it doesn’t make me want you any less.”
My heart races while I catch my breath. In nearly a whisper I ask, “If you had one night with me
and could do anything you wanted to me, what would you do?”
Yes, I know I’m playing with fire. But he’s right, I’m thinking about it.
“Sexually?” He asks as his eyes drop to my lips.
I bite my lip and nod.
“First, I would kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Then, I’d kiss, lick, and suck every inch of
your skin. I’d go up and down your body making sure I didn’t miss a single spot. I’d be sure to suck
the place between your neck and collarbone that I love so much. I’d take your nipples into my mouth
and suck, lick, and bite them until you were quivering with desire. Once you were moaning and
begging for release, I’d lick my way from your ankle, up your thighs, I’d inhale the scent of your
pussy, so I could memorize it. I’d lick up and down between your lips, circle your clit with my
tongue, making you scream for me. When you didn’t think you could take another second, I’d slide my
tongue inside your wet heat and fuck you with it until you came on my tongue. Next, I’d insert three
fingers inside you and fuck you with those to stretch you and get you ready for me. Only then, would I
slide my cock into you and fuck you so hard that you nearly lose consciousness.”
I swallow hard, “Wow.”
He kisses me on the forehead, “I’m going to take a shower.”
Stepping back from me he turns around and walks into the house leaving me with a racing heart
and clenched thighs. His words turn me into a quivering needy mess and then he walks away from me.
What kind of mind fuck is that?
My mouth is dry, so I head into the kitchen to get a drink of water while I wait for Xander to come
down after his shower. Do I say anything about what he said? Or do I pretend it never happened? I
don’t know what to do. Do I want to pretend he never said it? I will never come between him and
Liam. If we got together that’s exactly what would happen. Liam would forgive me, easily. He’d view
me as the victim. Xander, I don’t think he’d ever forgive. That twenty-seven-year friendship would be
over. I can’t do that to either of them. My silly little high school crush has come back full force. I need
to get over it. This is not healthy for either of us and quite frankly this isn’t what he needs after
Isabella.
I sit and read for over an hour and Xander hasn’t come back. I decide to go check on him. Walking
up the stairs, I head down the hallway, and go to his bedroom.
I stop in the doorway, frozen by the most incredible sight.
Xander is naked on his bed, his phone in his left hand, he’s staring at it while he grips his cock in
his right hand. He strokes himself, his chest is rising and falling rapidly, his breaths are ragged. I
know the right thing to do is to walk away and pretend I never saw this. He’s so beautiful, so
muscular and that dick is huge. When he moans, my clit throbs. Oh my God, he’s so sexy. He strokes
himself faster, his eyes close as he groans loudly, “Elle. Angel.”
Holy shit. I race down the hall and run into a human wall that is Max on my way, “I’m going to
bed.”
“You just passed your bedroom,” he says.
“Right,” I turn around and go to my room and shut the door.
Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!
Did that really just happen, or did I imagine it?
Chapter Seven
 ELLE

I CLIMB into the bed and dip my hand under my skirt and into my panties first rubbing my clit and
then sliding two fingers inside myself. I know this is bad. He’s my brother's best friend and so much
older than me. But after seeing, and hearing what I just did, I can’t help myself.
My head falls back, my eyes close as I lose myself in my orgasm, I whimper, “Xan.”
“Angel,” he whispers.
My eyes fly open, “What?”
I pull my hand out of my panties quickly. My heart races knowing I’ve been caught literally with
my hands in the cookie jar.
He reaches over and takes my hand while staring into my eyes and slides my fingers into his
mouth and licks them clean before sucking them. He growls, “Fuck. I knew it. I knew you would taste
so good, Angel.”
Running his fingers between my breasts down to my belly button he whispers, “I know I can’t
have you, Angel. Still, I crave you like an addict, desperate for a fix. I think if I died without ever
tasting you, that would be my biggest regret.”
I intake a sharp breath.
He drags his thumb across my bottom lip, “Tell me no, Angel, before I do something I know I
shouldn’t.” His lips ghost mine, “Angel. Tell me to stop. I can’t control myself.”
“Xan,” I whisper.
He tentatively touches his lips to mine as if waiting for me to tell him to stop. I don’t. Xander
swipes my open lips with his tongue, and I clench my thighs to ease the ache. He slides his fingers
around the back of my neck, and growls, deepening our kiss.
He pulls back and stares at me, “Why do I have to want you so badly?”
When he goes to get up to leave, I grab his arm, “Please don’t go, Xan. Stay with me.”
He runs a hand through his hair, “You know I can’t say no to you.”
Lying back down he pulls me into his arms.
I lay my head on his shoulder, “Why did you stop?”
“Because you're Elle.”
I gaze at him, “What does that mean? You mean because Liam is my brother?”
He sighs audibly, “That’s part of it. The bigger part is that I don’t want to hurt you. I can’t lose
you. If I continued, that’s what would happen.” He chuckles, “You have that look you get whenever
you want to ask something but are afraid to.”
 “It’s really not my business.”
“Angel, ask.”
“Why weren’t you compatible? I mean, unless you’re gay.”
He laughs loud, “I’m not gay. I like things rougher, more adventurous than she ever did. I need to
be in charge during sex. Well, really, I like to always be in control but especially in the bedroom.
Isabella never enjoyed it. But I had no idea she was having sex outside of our marriage.”
I reach up and run my fingers down the side of his face, feeling his stubble under my skin, “You
deserve to be happy, Xan.”
He stares at me with a heated gaze that I’m pretty sure could set me on fire, “You’re so beautiful,
Elle, so fucking beautiful.”
My breath catches and he chuckles.
He slides his hand to my face and touches my cheek gently, “In a different world, where you aren’t
his sister and I’m a different man, you would be mine.”
We’re both quiet for several minutes before he breaks the silence. “What are you thinking about?”
He asks.
I can feel my cheeks blush red. “What you said when I asked what you would do to me if you had
one night with me.”
“And?” He responds with a smirk.
“Would one night be enough for you?”
His face falls, “It would have to be, Angel.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, “One night only. Is that what we are agreeing to?”
I gaze at him, “Only tonight, never again. It’ll be our secret.”
My heart races at the thought of having Xander inside me but I remember he thinks I’ll come, and I
know better, I won’t.
“There’s something I should probably tell you, first,” I say.
“Mhmm,” he says as his eyes drop down my body before coming back to my face.
“I can’t come during sex.”
He looks at me like I have two heads, “What do you mean, you CAN’T come during sex?”
I shrug, “I don’t know why, but I have never come with anyone.”
He pulls my hair forcing my head back and he stares into my eyes, “Angel, I can and will make
you come. You will come on my tongue, my fingers, and on my cock.”
I gasp at his words. I’ve never come with any man, not that there’s been many. My number is a
whopping two. But right now, I’m thinking I might come just from the words coming out of his sexy
mouth.
“Do you like having your pussy eaten?”
I wince at his vulgar words and shake my head.
“No?”
“I don’t know. No one has ever done that.”
“What kind of losers have you been fucking?” He gets up and locks the door and then removes his
boxers.
“This is how this is going to go, baby. Tonight, you’re mine. You will do as I say. Your safe word
is red, if you really need me to stop, say red and I will stop whatever I’m doing without hesitation.”
I nod, unsure I could even speak right now, as I stare at his naked body. This man is sculpted like
Another random document with
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possono nascere di mezzo ostacoli impreveduti... Ma che rumore è
quello che s’ode abbasso?
«Sarà qualche visita (disse Matteo vôtando l’ultimo bicchiero).
Alzatisi entrambi osservarono da una finestra nel cortile, e videro
accorrere i servi coi lumi intorno ad una lettica che entrava dalla
porta con seguito di stambecchieri armati. Apertasi la lettica ne uscì
un personaggio d’alta levatura, in età avanzata, coperto da grande
cappa di colore violato come la sua ampia veste, il quale avviandosi
verso la scala maggiore compartì colla mano benedizioni ai servi
stessi ed alle sentinelle ch’eransi alineate sul suo passaggio.
«Ecco è desso: è l’Arcivescovo che recasi dalla Contessa Beatrice
(disse Matteo ritraendosi dalla finestra). Fa d’uopo ch’io discenda,
poichè ei non viene mai qui senza che s’abbiano a mescolare anfore
e tazze. Andiamocene che al suo partire potrai collocarti in modo da
vederlo vicino».
Macaruffo dopo avere mormorate tra sè alcune parole, rispose in
tuono di noncuranza: «Ciò poco m’importa; anzi se non t’è discaro
additami la camera che me ne andrò a dormire.
«La camera per te è la consueta sotto la galleria. Prendi il lume e
implora da Dio che abbiano buon termine queste faccende.
«Se tu sapesti i miei voti...» — pronunciò il Venturiero con fervida
espressione, ma troncati bruscamente i detti, gli diè un addio, ed
uscito da quella stanza s’avviò pel lungo androne al luogo di riposo.
Era arcivescovo di Milano Bartolomeo Della Capra, personaggio
dotato di non comune ingegno, il quale accoppiava modi arditi,
imperiosi ad una somma solerzia. Sendo partigiano caloroso dei
ghibellini aveva tosto considerato che pel trionfo di sua fazione era
necessario rimanesse il sovrano potere nella casa di Giovan
Galeazzo, poichè quella famiglia s’era sempre dimostra implacabile
nemica de’ guelfi, i quali venivano all’incontro favoreggiati
dall’opposto partito. Appena quindi restò vacuo il ducal seggio, si
dichiarò per Filippo Maria, la cui sovranità era eziandio per nascita
devoluta, e si mise a tutt’uomo nell’impresa. Non lo disanimò lo stato
di totale impotenza a cui il giovine Visconte trovavasi ridotto, giacche
per fornirgli armi e ricchezze pensò trarre profitto dell’avvenimento
quasi contemporaneo della morte di Facino, e formò sulla Vedova di
lui quel disegno di nozze, il vero e importante scopo del quale non fu
difficile al nostro accorto Venturiero di penetrare.
Trasferitosi l’Arcivescovo a Pavia aveva partecipato il progetto a
Filippo, il quale mostrandosi in tutto a lui sottomesso tostamente
l’accolse, poscia s’adoperò con ogni possibile mezzo per ottenere
l’assentimento della contessa Beatrice, importandogli
particolarmente di concludere in breve le cose, poichè necessità
voleva si accellerasse la mossa dell’esercito, affine di non lasciar
prendere radice nella Signoria ad Estore Visconte ed al nipote di
Bernabò, che già padroneggiavano Milano.
Mercè molte sollecite cure e le più pressanti parole, pervenne quel
Mitrato, nel giro di pochi giorni, a far accogliere a Beatrice la
proposizione delle nozze, cui susseguì da vicino il primo
abboccamento col giovine fidanzato. Stabiliti i preliminari volle che
senza indugio venisse prefissa l’epoca in cui si dovessero
formalmente segnare i patti matrimoniali.
Il Carmagnola, i capitani d’armi, i rappresentanti della città, non che
molte altre cospicue persone, ricevettero invito d’assistere a quella
conferenza, poichè il Prelato s’aveva di mira di rendere solenne l’atto
delle stipulazioni nuziali, onde riuscisse pubblico, per così dire, e
irresolubile l’impegno.
Il dì ch’ebbe luogo l’adunanza, più numerose e scelte dell’usato
erano state poste le guardie a quel palazzo, sulla fronte del quale
sventolava sola ancora e sovrana la bandiera di Facino.
Lo splendido convegno fu tenuto entro la sala maggiore del palazzo,
ch’era sostenuta in giro da archi e colonne di longobardica forma. Ad
ognuna delle quattro porte d’ingresso stavano colle lancie due
soldati coperti d’armature di ferro lucentissimo dalla sommità del
capo alle piante. I seggi fra gli archi erano occupati dai più distinti
patrizii di Pavia, dietro i quali si sospingevano a gara le genti della
casa della Contessa onde mirare nella sala. Innanzi ai patrizii
stavano que’ del Consiglio coi pomposi lucchi magistrali e fra loro
varii de’ capitani d’armi in diverse, ma eleganti assise. Nei più
avanzati e ricchi sedili vedevasi il giovine sposo, Filippo Maria
Visconte, alla cui destra stava assiso sulla porpora l’Arcivescovo
della Capra, allato del quale, benchè alcun poco all’indietro, v’aveva
uno de’ suoi vicarii; così pure poco indietro ed a mancina del
Visconte stava Zanino Riccio già suo precettore ed allora suo intimo
consigliere.
Ad equa distanza, di prospetto al Visconte, sedeva Beatrice Tenda in
una dorata scranna a bracciuoli; le stavano a diritta il Carmagnola,
ed a sinistra Domilda de’ Ferrieri signora d’Albenga sua confidente.
Dietro a lei v’avevano varie damigelle, e più dietro sovra un
rialzamento presso uno degli archi, ch’era chiuso da gran tenda di
colore verde bruno trapunta a fiori d’oro, stavano ritti in una linea i
paggi della Contessa, tra i quali spiccava pe’ biondi arricciati capelli
e le rosee tinte del volto, il giovinetto Orombello. A destra di Beatrice
chiudeva lo spazio, lasciato vacuo dai sedili, una tavola da pesante
tappeto ricoperta, alla quale sedevano il Cancelliere del collegio de’
Notaj con due scrivani ch’avevano innanzi a loro carte e pergamene.
Gli occhi di tutta l’assemblea erano rivolti curiosamente sopra Filippo
Maria il di cui prossimo cangiamento di sorte formava il soggetto
delle strane congetture d’alcuni, del timore e delle speranze di molti
altri, tanto pei singoli personali interessi, quanto per quelli che
riguardavano la patria.
Egli stava contegnoso, ritto dalla persona ed in silenzio. A cagione
della morte del fratello, ed anco per conformarsi allo stato vedovile
della Contessa, vestiva a lutto. Il mantelletto ch’aveva a spalle era
nero, il corsetto e tutto il vestimento erano pure di drappo bruno,
stretti alle membra, e profilati d’un ricamo in oro di quella foggia ch’or
noi diciamo alla raffaellesca. Aveva deposto il berretto sopra un
guanciale di velluto messogli appositamente d’accanto. La sua
capellatura era nera; aveva alta fronte, pallida la faccia, il naso
lievemente adunco, sottili le labbra, neri gli occhi che soleva tenere
come socchiusi. Il complesso di sua fisonomia accuratamente
esaminata, dinotava un misto d’acume intellettuale, d’orgoglio, di
fermezza, di dissimulazione ed anco in certi momenti palesava una
preoccupazione di spirito sì profonda che s’assomigliava quasi al
delirio; ma tutti questi sentimenti erano allora velati o sepolti sotto
una tinta di tranquillità e di modestia che consuonavano
mirabilmente colla situazione in cui era.
I due personaggi che lo fiancheggiavano, uno, l’Arcivescovo, di
lineamenti pronunciati e severi, addobbato co’ sontuosi abiti di sua
dignità sacerdotale, spirava dall’aspetto imponenza e maestà; l’altro,
Zanino Riccio, abbigliato d’una semplice sopravveste foderata di
vajo, co’ capelli corti e la barba rossigna, s’aveva ne’ tratti del volto
improntato un sorriso che a prima giunta sembrare poteva di sincera
affabilità, ma non era invece che l’espressione d’una beffarda ironìa,
poichè partiva da un’anima la più altera, fraudolente e maligna.
Al bisbigliare che questi fece alcuni motti interrotti, Filippo Maria alzò
lo sguardo a mirare con affettuosa significazione la Contessa
Beatrice, la quale già da alcun tempo teneva rivolte su di lui le
pupille.
Ella abbenchè avesse varcati gli otto lustri serbava ancora molta
venustà e grazia di forme; alla snellezza e giovanile vivacità suppliva
in lei un non so che di gentile e soave nel portamento, ed una
agevolezza di moti nè forzata, nè stanca. Aveva candida carnagione;
le sue treccie state del colore dell’oro s’erano alquanto abbrunite, ma
tuttavia liscie e voluminose le ornavano il capo, commiste a fregi di
perle; molte file delle quali insieme ad altre preziose gemme le
guernivano la serica veste che era di fondo nero rabescata a rilievo
da più oscuri fogliami. I suoi occhi azzurri spiravano un certo molle e
tenero abbandono, lo che formava pure il carattere principale di sue
fattezze, ma ciò non escludeva però in essa altresì molta forza ed
attività di spirito. La dominavano allora a vicenda il dubbio, la fiducia,
la peritanza, i desiri ed una certa secreta mestizia che invano
cercava respingere dal cuore.
Allo sguardo animatore del giovine fidanzato ella parve dolcemente
risentirsi; si volse prima a Domilda che le sorrise, e poi con timidità
girò gli occhi verso il Carmagnola, quasi per spiargli in volto, se
approvate o condannate venivano da lui quelle nozze.
L’intrepido Capitano, stavale come si disse al destro fianco. Egli
vestiva una guarnacca di drappo rosso cupo, sotto cui portava il
corsaletto d’acciajo, ed aveva appesa ad un budriere di semplice
cuojo la sua lunga spada. Era desso a que’ giorni sul fiore dell’età,
pieno di alte speranze nell’intrapresa carriera, e ardente di
conquistarsi fama e celebrità guerresca (ch’ebbe poi, sì fatale!).
Vedeva quindi con molto piacere l’appressare di un avvenimento, pel
quale non dubitava che alle antiche bande di Facino, affidate alla
sua condotta, verrebbe aperto un campo d’importantissime azioni,
mentre rimanendo sotto l’impero della vedova Contessa avrebbero
dovuto o disciogliersi o rimanere per sempre inoperose. Tale interno
sentimento gli improntava i maschii e vigorosi lineamenti di
un’espressione di compiacenza completa e veritiera, che Beatrice vi
scorse con sommo giubilo, e parve affidarsi poscia con maggior
letizia agli eventi.
Compiuta ch’ebbero gli scrivani la trascrizione delle convenzioni
matrimoniali, il Cancelliere levatosi e fatta un’inclinazione di capo ne
diede avvertimento all’Arcivescovo. Questi allora impetrata
l’universale benignità, incominciò un ampio ed ornato discorso, nel
quale magnificò gli sponsali, tessendo le lodi dell’uno e dell’altro de’
conjugi futuri, ed auspicando dalle nozze tanto ad essi che all’intero
Ducato i più felici e prosperi risultamenti.
Quand’egli ebbe detto, Beatrice con atto gentile gli rese grazie, indi
con chiara e ferma voce rispose: essersi ella condotta a quel passo
a causa precipuamente delle vive richieste e de’ consigli suoi, che lo
stato, l’eminente grado, la matura sperienza, facevale reputare ottimi
e sapientissimi, poichè altramente era suo saldo proposito di serbar
fede al defunto consorte, rinunziando per sempre all’attrattiva di
nuovi nodi. Che a vincerla e persuaderla avevano possentemente
cooperato il quadro delle virtù e l’eccelsa stirpe del proposto marito,
non che molte importanti considerazioni relative alla stabilità del
proprio dominio ed al bene de’ soggetti. Dover ella far noto poi che
per agevolare al suo sposo il ricuperamento della sede ducale e di
molte altre sue principali città, era stato considerato necessario che
la celebrazione del matrimonio venisse affrettata; che questa si era
l’unica cagione per cui sì prestamente, e in mezzo a grave lutto
vedevasi un convegno nuziale nella casa di Facino; pregava
caldamente non si volesse ciò considerare per disamore od onta alla
memoria di quell’illustre guerriero e sovrano, ch’ella avrebbe ognora
serbata cara e preziosa, siccome ne accertava sulla religione e
l’onore tutti quelli che l’ascoltavano».
Un plauso unanime seguì queste parole e si protrasse in lungo
dimostrando quanto fossero ben accette, e come tutti
commendavano la sua scelta ed i suoi voti. Ristabilito il silenzio si
levò di nuovo il Cancelliere, e lesse ad alta voce la scrittura nuziale;
a questa, sottosegnata che fu da Filippo e da Beatrice, apposero i
proprii nomi Zanino Riccio ed il Carmagnola.
Così ebbe compimento la ceremonia, dopo la quale tutti si levarono
e il Visconte accompagnatosi alla Contessa la corteggiò con umili e
seducenti detti sin oltre le soglie della sala, ed ivi le baciò la mano,
profondamente inchinandola, quindi si divise da essa lei che rientrò
nelle proprie camere. Egli quindi venuto a fianco dell’eccelso Prelato
discese innanzi a tutti le scale, e partì di là fra mezzo alla accorsa
moltitudine.
Nell’ora che la luna levatasi dietro i colli del Po, mandava sulla
declina Pavia irta di torri, il suo smorto raggio, Macaruffo da tristi
pensieri travagliato uscì solitario sul ballatoio, il quale sporgeva
dall’alto del muro del palagio, inferiormente alla merlatura, e metteva
capo sul terrazzo costruito al lato meridionale in luogo contiguo ai
baluardi, d’onde la vista spaziava lungo le sponde del Ticino, che
bagna il piede alla città.
Dopo l’assentimento che in forma solenne era stato dato dalla
Contessa, egli non nutriva più speranza che avessero a rompersi le
trattative nuziali col Visconte sì destramente annodate dal Pastore di
Milano. Questa persuasione lo addolorava amaramente. Fossero i
costumi strani e crudeli del fratello, fosse la fisonomia stessa di
Filippo Maria sulla quale i suoi occhi leggevano a nudo la violenza e
l’orgoglio, fosse un arcano presentimento, egli abborriva
profondamente quel giovine. E ben comprendeva che tratto esso
unicamente dalla cupidigia e dall’ambizione ad un matrimonio per
età sconvenientissimo, raggiunto che avesse lo scopo di riporsi ed
affrancarsi nella signoria, non avrebbe sentito che il peso e il fastidio
della conjugale catena, e pagherebbe il beneficio coll’indifferenza e
col disprezzo, se pure non avesse anche avuto l’anima scellerata a
segno di mirare ad uno di quegli atroci espedienti che non costano
che un desiderio a chi considera la volontà per solo limite al potere.
A tali riflessioni s’univa poi un cruccio intimo, desolante, che rendeva
più gravi le tristi previsioni della mente. Beatrice stava per divenir
donna di chi ella inclinava ad amare, ed ei l’avrebbe veduta assorta
pel Visconte in un affetto, che non le aveva forse mai ispirato
l’estinto marito.
Non già che folle ardimento destasse in lui ombra di speranza per sè
medesimo. Sino dal tempo in cui, fanciulli entrambi, egli seguivala
per le chine delle alpi di Tenda, e, vigilantissimo nel sorreggerla,
nell’obbedirla allorchè essa si slanciava su per l’erte perigliose o
dentro il folto de’ boschi, riceveva poi la sera nelle ampie sale del
castello, dalle labbra di lei parole di lode e di predilezione (preziose,
inestimabili al suo animo, continuamente oppresso dagli scherni e
dai dileggi con che ogni altro lo feriva pel difettoso aspetto datogli
dalla natura); sino da quel tempo, in cui l’invase e lo dominò una
passione quanto immensa, inestinguibile, altrettanto gelosamente
sepolta, mai gli aveva sorriso la lusinga di potere ottenere un segno
solo, il cenno d’un istante, che al suo ardore rispondesse. Pascevasi
quel sentimento in sè medesimo, pago d’ogni bene di lei; ed egli
sarebbe stato completamente felice del non saperla in possesso di
altr’uomo, ma vivente in una calma di cuore, che potesse lasciarle
scorgere in uno de’ suoi servi la più costante devozione, per età, per
vicende inalterabile. I nuovi sponsali interamente distruggevano
questo stato di cose tanto sospirato e che sembrava quasi raggiunto.
Volgendo simili idee Macaruffo or procedeva per quell’alto loggiato,
or s’arrestava alzando gli occhi alla luna o guardando la sommità dei
circostanti edificii, ai quali i trafori dei gotici ornati e l’ombre taglienti
davano in quell’ora un aspetto fantastico.
Quando pervenuto alla estremità del ballatoio pose piede sul
terrazzo, vide spalancarsi la vetrata imposta d’una delle porte che
quivi metteva dalle sale, ed uscirne la Contessa con Domilda. Esse
avanzatesi a lenti passi verso il parapetto scambiando alcune brevi
parole vi si affacciarono, e stettero ivi mirando le scorrenti acque del
sottoposto fiume, dall’astro della notte in varii punti inargentate. Il
Venturiero le riconobbe e forte gli tremò il cuore. Volle, retrocedendo,
discostarsi di là, ma il rumore de’ suoi passi fu udito da Domilda, che
spiccatasi dal fianco della Contessa gridò chiamando chi vi fosse.
«Un soldato e servo dell’eccellentissima signora Contessa Beatrice»
— rispose egli tosto rivolgendosi, poichè temeva col tacere d’essere
loro cagione di sospetto o timore.
«Come ti chiami o soldato?» — chiese con curiosità la Contessa cui
parve avere riconosciuta quella voce.
«Sono Macaruffo» — tornò questi a rispondere apparendo sul
terrazzo e avanzandosi in atto rispettoso verso di essa.
«Oh sei tu mio buon Macaruffo! (profferì Beatrice cortesemente
accogliendolo). Quanto mi doleva di non vederti! credetti fosti ancora
nei castelli della Brianza ove t’aveva mandato il mio povero Conte.
«Vi fui e di là per suo comando passai a Milano, d’onde qui venni
appena udii l’irreparabile perdita di quell’illustre nostro Capo tanto
amato e compianto da tutte le sue squadre.
«Ah si! Facino era degno dell’intero amor vostro (disse la Contessa
sospirando).
«Ho stimato sacro dovere, o mia Signora, (proseguì con voce più
ferma Macaruffo) di non rimanere in luogo discosto da Voi; quando
un colpo sì funesto mutando gli eventi, poteva farvi abbisognare del
braccio d’ogni vostro fedele.
«Ti son grata oltremodo; e sventurata o felice ch’io sia puoi vivere
certo che saprò sempre apprezzare la tua fede. Essa poi mi
rammenta che la nostra conoscenza è antica e che noi siamo nati
sotto lo stesso cielo; non è egli vero?
«Per me sarebbe più agevole dimenticare il mio proprio nome che
perdere le rimembranze della patria. Sono nato soggetto alla
famiglia di Vostra Signoria, e posso considerare il castello di Tenda
come mia casa paterna. I miei parenti più vecchi nacquero e vissero
colà agiatamente sotto la protezione degli antecessori nobilissimi del
Conte vostro genitore, il quale per colmo di benignità elesse mio
padre a suo scudiero.
«Ah si! Ernoldo lo scudiero era tuo padre. Ogni qual volta ritorno
colla mente agli anni di mia fanciullezza mi ricordo con piacere di lui.
Egli era quello che quando concedevalo la mia buona madre,
riponevami in sella, e con mio gran diletto spingendo a corsa il
cavallo, mi conduceva o al laghetto de’ palombi, o al Maniero de’
Gualdi, ove da ognuno io veniva festeggiata.
«In que’ tempi, se la Signoria Vostra si degna sovvenirsene, fu dato
a me pure di prestarle frequentemente i miei servigi» — così disse
Macaruffo con voce temperata e insinuante, e proseguì con accento
più animato — «Quante volte al primo spuntare dell’aurora me ne
stava tenendo i segugi alla lassa, e il girifalco in pugno, aspettando
nel cortile fosse allestita la caccia! allorchè finalmente erano tutti
riuniti e si prendevano le mosse, io ponevami dietro alla chinea falba
da voi salita, per eseguire subitamente ogni vostro cenno. Non si
rientrava di consueto che a notte chiusa, e chi avesse saputo
numerare i passi che si facevano in una di quelle giornate sarebbe
stato valent’uomo.
«Erano tali, è vero, i miei prediletti sollazzi, e tu ne fosti il compagno
più pronto, e indefesso di tutti. Oh con qual foga giovanile, con qual
giubilo purissimo l’anima s’abbandonava a quei passatempi pieni di
variati e giojosi accidenti! Non dolorosi pensieri, non affanni di cuore:
quant’era allora sorridente per me l’avvenire!... (Una emozione
soave compose ad atteggiamento meditativo il viso di Beatrice, che il
raggio della luna imbiancava, rilevandone dolcemente i contorni)
«Voi Contessa (entrò a dire Domilda) vi compiaceste adunque ne’
faticosi esercizii della caccia? Ora intendo come siate sì destra nel
cavalcare, e come, ad onta della dilicata apparenza del vostro corpo,
abbiate potuto dimostrarvi infaticabile nel seguire tante fiate il campo
in disastrosi incontri, e specialmente ne’ fatti della Bormida, ad Acqui
ed Alessandria.
«Le prove virili d’agilità e di forza furono per me sino dall’infanzia
oggetto d’invidia. Mio padre m’idolatrava, e gioiva al vedermi
gareggiare cogli uomini in ispeditezza e coraggio. Ad ogni mio tratto
ardimentoso, m’abbracciava e baciava ripetutamente, chiamandomi
sua vera figlia, sincero sangue de’ Lascari. Questo mio buon servo
Macaruffo, sa piu d’ogni altro quale io mi fossi, poichè tanto
sconsideratamente soleva affaticarlo, nè egli mai moveva lamento.
«Ogni fatica imposta da voi mi riucì sempre piacevole e gradita. Così
fossero ancora que’ tempi! (esclamò il Venturiero con entusiasmo).
Vederla seduta in arcione, caracollando coll’asta o il giavelotto!
Vederla passare, o piuttosto trascorrere a volo pei poggi e pe’ dossi
se si levava il daino o la lepre! Il conte Facino fra tante dame e
donzelle che ambivano la sua destra, perchè venne a ricercare la
sposa al nostro castello? Egli è perchè la sola Beatrice di Tenda fu
da quell’intrepidissimo Condottiero stimata degna de’ suoi affetti.
La Contessa inclinò con mestizia il capo, e dato un grave sospiro,
disse «Facino m’onorò, mi distinse, ma l’amor suo io non l’ebbi mai:
egli non seppe amare che la sua spada e la guerra, ogni affettuoso
sentimento era straniero al suo cuore.
«Il continuato armeggiare non poteva concedere al Conte di gustare
le domestiche dolcezze; ma i severi suoi costumi, la celebrità del suo
nome vi rendevano invidiata tra le mogli de’ principi e de’ signori più
ricchi e possenti. Nessun uomo, credetelo, potrà fregiarvi di tanta
gloria, se pur v’è chi aspira a possedere la donna che fu di Facino.
«Sì: ragione di Stato mi astringe a nuove e prossime nozze. Ciò sarà
noto a te pure? (disse Beatrice non senza esitanza).
«Lo so, lo so, mia Signora (rispose Macaruffo con mal celata
amarezza). Voi donate il dominio al giovine Visconte ch’era
prigioniero di vostro marito.
«Non io gli dono il dominio (rispose placida la Contessa); il Ducato a
lui spetta per diritto, ed ei lo divide con me porgendomi la sua mano.
«Se vi fosse bilancia, su cui si potesse pesare ciò che ciascuno di
voi reca in questa unione, si vedrebbe l’oro posto a confronto del
ferro. Ma voi così avete deciso, tutti debbono rispettare i vostri voleri.
«Tu disapprovi adunque il mio maritaggio? (disse la Contessa con
sorpresa e rizzando la testa a rimirarlo).
«Non conviene ad un infimo servo arrogarsi la facoltà di scrutinare le
azioni de’ suoi Signori, ma l’attaccamento mio antico alla vostra casa
m’ha portato a pensare profondamente sul legame che state per
contrarre, ed ohimè! perdonate, la mia mente ha formati funesti
presagi.
«Non fu dietro il capriccio d’un istante che mi sono a ciò determinata.
Uomini gravissimi me ne diedero il consiglio; quegli stessi ch’erano i
più caldi amici di Facino, lo approvano ed assecondano, e le mie
principali città espressero favorevole il loro voto pel mio connubio col
figlio di Giovan Galeazzo.
«Ove si ritroverebbe diletto e consolazione (disse Domilda
vivacemente) se l’unirsi ad un bello e gentil giovine potesse esserci
annunzio di sciagure e di mali?
«Sotto le più belle scaglie sta il serpente più velenoso: guai per chi si
lascia affascinare dal suo sguardo e da’ suoi leggiadri colori!
(esclamò Macaruffo con voce cupa e solenne).
Beatrice rimase un istante ammutolita volgendo gli occhi al suolo,
colpita a queste parole come da interno spavento; ma tosto levando
lo sguardo e sorridendo affabilmente «No, Macaruffo, (disse) non
temere per me. Filippo Maria ha cuore umano e virtuoso, egli provò
la sventura, e terrà sempre impresso ciò che mi deve. Vedrai tu
stesso, ne ho somma lusinga, quanto sarà felice la nostra unione.
Tutti i miei fedeli gioiranno nel mirarmi sì onorata e contenta. Tu poi,
affinchè non abbi mai ad allontanarti da me, sarai capo de’ sergenti
d’armi del mio palazzo.
Ciò detto si appoggiò al braccio di Domilda e abbandonando il
terrazzo rientrò nell’appartamento.
Macaruffo la segui collo sguardo, rimanendo immobile colà ove
l’ultime parole di lei pronunciate con tanta espansione e fiducia
avevano dissipata la tetra nube de’ suoi pensieri. Quando intese
venire dalle sale l’armonia d’un liuto, si scosse, e movendo
lentamente pel ballatojo con fronte meno intorbidata, si ricondusse al
basso.
Celebraronsi fastosamente le nozze; e quando Beatrice fu
proclamata Duchessa, i capitani d’armi di Facino prestarono
omaggio al Duca Filippo Maria, che ricevette pure dai rappresentanti
delle città da lei possedute giuramento di fedeltà e sommissione. Il
Carmagnola ebbe titolo di comandante supremo delle forze ducali, e
fu a lui anzi tutto imposta la riconquista di Milano.
Mosse desso prontamente da Pavia con gran parte dell’esercito e
s’appressò a queste mura. Estore Visconte, che col nipote Giovan
Carlo da un mese vi regnava, fece pronti preparativi di difesa.
Combattuto però da quelle bande valorose, assalito nella città stessa
dai ghibellini e dagli altri numerosi partigiani, che l’Arcivescovo Della
Capra aveva in pro del Duca infervorati, sgombrare dovette, e
tentare di rinvenire altrove salvezza [4].
Filippo Maria fece colla moglie Beatrice il suo solenne ingresso in
Milano fra le acclamazioni ed i festeggiamenti della nobiltà e del
popolo, il quale oltrechè ad ogni novella signoria sorgeva in
isperanza di migliori politiche condizioni, amava a preferenza un
principe cui potevasi legittimamente attribuire il titolo di Duca, titolo
che agli occhi della moltitudine insigniva il potere e faceva
primeggiare Milano fra le circostanti città non dominate che da
tirannelli indistinti.
Tutto andava a seconda al nuovo Duca. I sudditi ubbidivano; le sue
armi guidate dal Carmagnola trionfavano ovunque [5]; altri Stati gli
offrivano amistà ed alleanza, l’imperatore d’Allemagna Sigismondo
validava in lui il diploma concesso da Venceslao a suo padre.
Abitava Filippo Maria nella rocca interna del castello di Milano,
d’onde usciva rade volte per recarsi a quello d’Abbiate a cacciare nel
parco. Sommamente difficile si era l’avere accesso presso di lui. Nel
castello stanziava numeroso corpo d’arcieri, di balestrieri e lancie
spezzate, ed egli si aveva altresì nella rocca una scelta guardia di
cavalieri che splendidamente rimunerava ed erano a lui fidatissimi.
Fra questi sceglieva per suoi paggi i più giovani ed avvenenti, ai
quali non concedeva che di là uscissero fuorchè seco lui, nè voleva
ch’altri entrasse a visitarli.
Aveva affidata ad un supremo Consiglio la direzione di tutti gli affari
dello Stato, e di questo Consiglio era capo Zanino Riccio, nel quale il
Duca riponeva la più cieca confidenza lasciandosi da lui interamente
guidare. Suoi intimi famigliari, e consci de’ secreti voleri erano
eziandio Ottolino d’Ignigo e Gasparo de’ Grassi, il primo maestro
d’armi, il secondo giureconsulto; accordava pure qualche momento
del giorno a Ciriaco Anconitano che istudiavasi co’ suoi dettati di
rendergli gradite le umane lettere. Quegli però col quale ogni dì
secretamente e per lunghe ore intrattenevasi era un filosofo ebreo di
nome Elìa, dal quale facevasi rivelare i secreti dell’astrologia, della
geomanzia, della chiromanzia, di tutte le scienze che chiamavansi
occulte, non che delle arti cabalistiche e divinatorie.
La mente del Duca guasta dei pregiudizi, e già per natura esaltata,
inclinava a tutto ciò che s’aveva dello straordinario e del
soprannaturale. Secreti terrori l’agitavano; paventava le tenebre che
si figurava popolate di fantasime; una voce, un canto, uno strido
bastavano a sconvolgere l’animo suo; da ogni oggetto traeva
pronostici, e la stessa sua brama insaziabile di penetrare negli
arcani dell’avvenire gli moltiplicava intorno le cause di perturbazione
e di terrore.
Queste naturali disposizioni, benchè non prendessero pieno sviluppo
che nella sua più avanzata età, pure anche al principio del suo
dominio fra certa quale mansuetudine giovanile che a lui fu propria,
si manifestarono chiaramente pel modo che teneva di vita. Oltre lo
stare rinchiuso nella Rocca, ch’era il suo ducale palazzo, ed
ammettere assai di rado stranieri alla sua presenza, indizio certo di
diffidenza e selvatichezza, egli parlava poco e talora interrogato non
rispondeva, o pronunziava parole che sembravano non avere alcun
significato. S’occupava assiduamente di sapere tutto ciò che
avveniva nella città e nello Stato, e voleva specialmente essere
istruito del modo di pensare e d’agire delle persone che lo
approssimavano; a questo fine teneva molti esploratori ed operava
in modo che l’uno ignorasse dell’altro. La Duchessa Beatrice presa
pel marito da caldissimo affetto, stargli voleva continuamente vicino,
e procurava guadagnarne il cuore e renderselo benevolo ed
amoroso col rallegrarlo e dissiparne i tetri umori, giungendo pure
talvolta a far prevalere in lui i proprii miti e benefici consigli a quelli
fraudolenti e iniqui di Zanino Riccio e degli altri suoi cortigiani.
A capo però ad un anno l’animo di Filippo Maria facendosi sempre
più cupo e insofferente, non vide nella moglie che un oggetto di noja.
Cominciò dall’accoglierla freddamente, poi la respinse accigliato e
con aspri modi, indi si sottrasse del tutto alle sue visite.
A dare incremento all’odio del Visconte per la Contessa di Tenda
congiurarono non so se la sorte, o l’arte profonda e la malizia de’
principali di quella Corte che a causa di sue virtù, divenuti secreti di
lei nemici, ne agognavano la perdita.
Quando si trattò di ricongiungere Genova al Ducato, dalla cui
sovranità erasi sottratta dopo la morte di Giovan Galeazzo, e per
mezzo d’ascosi maneggi coi ghibellini di quella città cercavasi
d’ottenerne il possesso senza esporsi ad una lunga incerta guerra,
ebbe a trovarsi in Milano il marchese Spinola colla marchesa Eliana
sua consorte stretta di sangue ai Castiglioni e ad altri nobili casati
lombardi. Zanino Riccio esortò tosto il Duca a ricevere alla Corte
quel ricco e potente genovese onorandolo personalmente, per
disporlo ad entrare nella lega cui poteva sommamente giovare.
Filippo Maria prima di risolvere volle consultare il suo sapiente
maestro Ebreo, il quale soleva sempre leggere negli astri, ciò che
Zanino Riccio, più potente di lui, bramava vi si leggesse, onde il
Duca ne ebbe favorevole responso; anzi si seppe che il chiromante
di Palestina disse allora al Visconte con misterioso sogghigno, che
Venere dovendo passare nella casa di Giove si sarebbe operato un
congiungimento di pianeti, oroscopo a lui faustissimo, sotto l’influsso
del quale nulla poteva nè fallire, nè volgersi in contrario. Venne
quindi assecondata la proposta dell’accorto ministro.
Il giorno del ricevimento il Duca stava nella sala bianca, così detta
perchè candidi arazzi ne ricoprivano le pareti, su ognuna delle quali
vedevasi ripetuto il grande stemma di sua famiglia. Egli era assiso in
elevato seggio; s’aveva una veste di stoffa d’oro, e il ducale berretto
ch’esso portava d’una foggia particolare cioè liscio ed eretto intorno
alle tempia, avente il capperuccio ricadente alla sommità. Gli
facevano intorno corona que’ del Consiglio, co’ suoi più confidenti tra
cui spiccavano per aspetto audace e petulante l’Ottolino, per truce
viso Gasparo il legista, per pallidezza il letterato Anconitano, per
l’aggrinzamento della pelle e il colorito fosco l’astrologo Elìa, il di cui
capo interamente calvo e scoperto rassomigliava a quello d’una
statua di basalto rappresentante Ermete o Zoroastro.
Apparve ben tosto colà Zanino Riccio annunziando, e introducendo il
genovese Spinola, colla moglie, la quale venne in gran pompa
seguita da molte damigelle appartenenti alle più distinte famiglie.
Furono fatti sedere: Filippo Maria parve straordinariamente animarsi
e diresse le più affabili parole al Marchese, il quale lusingato da
quella inusitata bontà del Duca protestò di sua devozione alla casa
dei Visconti; indi venendo da Zanino Riccio con arte finissima
condotto a varii ragionamenti rapporto a ciò che potevasi sperare per
la ricupera di Genova, promise in faccia al Duca di tutto operare in
suo favore. Questi alla sua volta encomiò i Genovesi pel valore
marittimo, elevandoli sopra tutti i navigatori d’Italia non esclusi i
Veneziani e i Pisani da essi colle galee tante volte rotti e disfatti;
enumerò le franchigie che intendeva accordare alla loro città, e disse
come voleva giovarli nell’esercizio della mercatanzia, accertandone
libero lo smaltimento nel Ducato. Allora ad avvalorare le parole del
Principe tutti entrarono a dire dell’utilità somma che recare doveva al
Genovesato la preminenza nelle contrattazioni con Milano ch’era la
città più ricca d’ogni manifattura; e qui l’uno espose la sua estesa
industria nelle arti della lana, l’altro in quelle delle sete; questi parlò
de’ lavori d’oro e d’argento; quegli del rame e del ferro, e tutti poi
magnificarono la fabbricazione delle armi a cui più di venti mila
artefici attendevano, facendo tributarie alle nostre fucine pressochè
tutte le città d’Europa.
Il conversare si protrasse in lungo. Vennero recati squisitissimi
rinfreschi in vasi e sottocoppe d’oro e d’argento, su cui erano sparsi
pure de’ giojelli e vezzi preziosi, i quali, così volendo il costume,
furono dai cavalieri astanti distribuiti alla Marchesa ed alle damigelle.
Fra quest’ultime una ve ne aveva nel più verde della giovinezza, non
forse di rara avvenenza, ma sì ben composta della persona, di tinte
sì fresche e dilicate, che dir si poteva una rosa sullo sbucciare,
colma d’olezzo. La morbidezza gentile de’ suoi nascenti contorni, lo
scintillare delle nereggianti pupille da lunghe palpebre velate,
l’ingenuità del sorriso che le errava sulle labbra, corallo vivissimo tra
l’avorio, presentavano un complesso sì seducente che attraeva e
incantava gli occhi di tutti. Una vestetta grandinata di argentei
globetti e un corsetto vermiglio con larghe maniche da cui
sporgevano le bianche falde del sottoposto drappo, formavano
l’abbigliamento di questa adorabile giovinetta tutta spirante candore
e soavità — Era Agnese Del Maino.
Zanino Riccio benchè sembrasse occupato in gravissimi parlari col
Marchese, pure misurò con gioja infernale tutte le gradazioni
dell’effetto (forse antiveduto e calcolato!) che provava il Duca alla
vista di quel bello eloquente d’età e di forme, che gli assorbiva
l’anima ritraendola con dolce potenza dal cerchio tremendo di
magiche e spaventose fantasie fra cui incessantemente s’aggirava.
Lo Spinola prese alfine commiato e nuovamente corteggiato dal
Riccio uscì da quel palagio colla Marchesa e le di lei seguaci. Il Duca
si ritrasse nelle sue camere, e fece chiamarvi Elìa; stette seco
rinchiuso piu di un’ora, poscia volle inaspettatamente partire pel
castello d’Abbiate.
Ivi lo raggiunse Riccio la notte stessa, e la sera seguente, rimanendo
tutta la Corte ad Abbiate, Zanino e il Duca ne partirono seguiti da soli
dieci uomini della guardia de’ cavalieri. La forza e le minacce, ovvero
una sacrilega ambizione avevano già vinti i genitori d’Agnese; il
Duca penetrò in quella casa e l’innocente fanciulla divenne l’amata
d’un adultero potente [6].
I nuovi amori inasprirono vie maggiormente l’animo di Filippo Maria
contro Beatrice. Egli impose che gli appartamenti di lei fossero
totalmente divisi da’ suoi: ch’ella s’avesse nel palazzo una corte
separata, di cui solo la rigorosa custodia continuasse ad essere
affidata alle stesse sue guardie.
Macaruffo, il quale dal giorno delle nozze della Duchessa aveva
sempre abitato nel castello e vissuto presso di lei, si consumava
d’ira e di dolore al vedere quei tratti ognora crescenti dell’avversione
e della fierezza del Visconte.
Riandando il passato, e spingendo il pensiero nell’avvenire, la sua
mente non iscorgeva ovunque che oggetti d’amarezza e di tema, e
mirava oscurarsi più e più l’orizzonte. Quegli uomini d’armi venduti al
Duca e posti a sentinella intorno a Beatrice per ispiarne ogni passo,
ogni moto; il disprezzo che ormai più non celavanle i cortigiani, e
l’aria di trionfo che affettavano; la passione già pubblicamente
conosciuta che nutriva il Duca per Agnese, alla quale si attribuivano
nella Corte tutte le lodi e gli onori, ben manifestavano a quali estremi
passi s’incamminassero le cose per la misera Contessa di Tenda.
Straziato così in cento modi il Venturiero soleva andare tra sè
cupamente meditando, e un dì gli sorse un pensiero arrischiato,
terribile, ma pieno di grandi speranze. Egli l’accolse con ebbrezza;
l’andò lungo tempo coltivando, ed operò tutto ciò che stava in lui,
affinchè nell’opportuno momento riuscisse ad effetto.
Quando credette fosse quasi maturo il colpo, una notte nell’ora che
le lampade sotto le gotiche arcate impallidivano ed era universale
nel Castello il silenzio, egli salito a taciti passi da una scala interna si
presentò arditamente nella stanza della Duchessa.
Al vederla però rimase sospeso e indeciso. Non eravi Domilda;
allontanato s’era pure Orombello, il di cui liuto miravasi sospeso alla
parete. Stava dessa sola piegata sopra un inginocchiatojo innanzi
l’immagine del Salvatore, tenendo appoggiata ad una mano la
fronte, e lasciando cadere l’altro braccio abbandonato. Le sue
treccie erano allentate, e dolente mostravasi la posa di sua persona.
Dopo averla per alcuni istanti contemplata dalla soglia della porta,
gonfio il cuore di cento affetti, Macaruffo s’avanzò e «Mia Signora?»
profferì con voce sommessa addomandandola.
Beatrice volse il capo, nè senza stupore riconoscendolo s’alzò.
Macaruffo le fece cenno di tacere, ed appressatosi «Duchessa
(disse sempre pianamente ma con vigorosa espressione), l’oggetto
che m’ha spinto a quest’ora sin qui è grave, è sommo, è pressante.
«Cos’è? che avvenne?» (chiese Beatrice con premura e spavento).
«Non temete no, tutto anzi sperate. Forse stanno per finire i giorni di
vostra tristezza, e voi ritornerete alla pace ed allo splendore di cui
siete sì degna.
«Rechi tu la novella che il mio sposo mi richiama a sè vicino?
(esclamò Beatrice cui lampeggiò in volto un sorriso di speranza).
Macaruffo, vibrandole severo uno sguardo, disse in tuono di
compassione sdegnosa — «Misera voi! se attendete grazia alcuna
da quel mostro implacabile. La vipera ch’è lassù (e additò uno
stemma di marmo) lascierà di stringere il fanciullo fra i denti, prima
che Filippo Maria conosca umanità e giustizia.
La Duchessa abbassò gli occhi e la testa e portò una mano al cuore.
Macaruffo proseguì con voce più aspra e incalzante — «Bando
all’amore per questo Visconte se voi volete esser salva. Egli non vi
fece sovrana, ma schiava; ei vi opprime, v’insulta: e sprezzando i
sacri vostri nodi s’è dato ad altra donna.
Beatrice proruppe in dirotte lagrime e i suoi singhiozzi troncarono la
parola a Macaruffo. Questi commosso sin dall’intime fibre rimase
incerto, ammutolito, ma dopo alcuni momenti forzandosi ad essere
calmo riprese — «Alla Contessa di Tenda, alla vedova di Facino
Cane non deve rimanere il solo conforto del pianto. No: basta il suo
volere per farla risorgere in tutta l’antica possanza.
«Ohimè! (rispose flebilmente Beatrice) il mio volere è un nulla: io
donai ogni cosa a quell’ingrato.
«V’ha ancora chi non conosce e rispetta per sovrano altri che voi» —
disse il Venturiero con forza; poscia inclinandosi verso di lei
aggiunse in tuono misterioso — «Le vecchie alabarde del Conte
sono per noi; uomini di ferro maleati alle battaglie, che trasaliscono
ogni qual volta intendono il nome di Facino. Guasco e il Frisone
capitani delle bande a cavallo hanno fatto giuramento d’obbedirvi
sino alla morte; i fanti del Taro conservano come una reliquia
preziosa la bandiera da voi donata alla vittoria di Castel Leone, e
non saranno restii alla chiamata... Tutte queste forze stanno, se il
volete, in vostra mano. Fate che i capi intendano i vostri comandi, e
le nuove milizie del Duca, i suoi vili cortigiani, i suoi sgherri
scompariranno come nebbia al vento.
«Oh cielo! che mi proponi tu? (esclamò Beatrice con sorpresa e
terrore) farmi ribelle al marito?... tentare di rapirgli il potere? Ah taci...
taci...! Guai se alcuno giungesse a penetrare questo tuo pensiero! la
tua vita...
«Non temete per me. So che qui cent’occhi ttraditori vegliano per
sorprendere se potessero aanche i battiti del cuore. Ma se voi non
eesitate a risolvere, le spade de’ vostri fedeli aavranno trionfato
prima che i satelliti del Visconte ggiungano a scoprire il nostro
secreto. Abbandonatevi aa noi; una parola, un foglio...
«No giammai! parti... lasciami... cela a ttutti questa visita fatale,
annienta ogni progetto; iio te ne scongiuro.
Così parlando ella tentò allontanarsi, ma la trattenne Macaruffo
dicendo con tutto il fuoco: — «Ah mia Signora, per la memoria di
vostro padre, per voi stessa, cedete! richiamate nell’animo la
risolutezza e il vigore dei primi vostri anni. Pensate che da voi sola
dipende la possanza di quell’uomo iniquo che vi calpesta; che potete
strappargli dal capo la ducale corona che gli avete cinta, e vederlo ai
vostri piedi invocare la vita a nome del legame istesso che ora
abborrisce, e che sta forse colla nuova druda pensando di spezzare
per sempre.
La Duchessa tremante, impallidita, col petto ansante d’affanno,
s’abbandonò sul sedile. Lottavano a lei nel cuore le più contrarie e
crudeli passioni; vedeva a nudo il proprio stato; sentiva quanta fosse
la perfidia del marito, la trafiggeva come acuta spada l’amore di lui
per la Del Maino. Stette silenziosa, mandò lunghi sospiri; ma
superata al fine la propria angoscia — «Egli non mi ama (profferì)
pure gli perdono. Io sono sua, e sia di me ciò ch’ei vuole; non
pretendo al suo dominio, nè concederò che si versi per me il sangue
di tanti valorosi, che pur forse lo spanderebbero invano... So, o mio
fedele, quale zelo ti anima per me; esso solo ti spinge a meditare
un’impresa ardita, irreparabile, di cui tu il primo potevi esperimentare
i perigli. Una prova di tanto affetto non si paga con tesori, lo
comprendo: io nulla posso per te, ma la gratitudine mia sarà eterna,
lo attesto a questa divina immagine (indicò il Salvatore) che riceve
ogni giorno le mie preghiere... Ora tu va; deponi il pensiero della
vendetta, riposa tranquillo poichè non dispero che s’abbia a far
migliore tra poco il nostro destino.
Il Venturiero non osò rispondere; i suoi occhi erano ottenebrati,
bollenti gli spiriti, trambasciato ed anelante il cuore. Abbandonò
quella stanza rivolgendo a lei gemente un ultimo sguardo.