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“Did you know the news would be leaked to the press?”
I shook my head. Father hadn’t told me when exactly the announcement would go out. I scanned the article to see what they’d written about Aria.
Luca Vitiello’s long row of conquests will certainly shed a couple of tears finding out that the heir with an estimated net worth of 600 million dollars is no longer up for grabs.
“They even disinherited you in their article,” I said to my brother. He and I would both inherit Father’s fortunes, and it was closer to 700 million dollars, but what were one hundred million give or take for the press? They kept their fact-checking to a minimum as usual.
His future wife, Aria Scuderi, Italian-American as expected, is the oldest daughter of restaurant chain owner Rocco Scuderi.
I almost snorted. Rocco definitely had his hands in several restaurant chains, but that was definitely not his job description.
His connections to the Chicago underworld have been rumored but never confirmed. The same can be said for the Vitiellos, which leads to the question of how the connection came to be. Salvatore Vitiello and Rocco Scuderi declined any comment. One can’t help but wonder how Aria Scuderi convinced the Vitiello heir to give up his bachelor ways.
I closed the newspaper. What bullshit.
My phone rang and Grace’s name flashed across the screen. She usually knew better than to call me. I was the one who asked for a meeting, not the other way around.
“It’s an angry ring,” Matteo said with glee.
I picked up but, before I could say a word, Grace’s voice shrilled in my ear.
“When were you intending on telling me?” Her voice was pissed and whiny.
Matteo chuckled and emptied the rest of my coffee.
“Telling you what?”
“That you’re going to marry, of course!”
“It’s none of your business.”
“What?” she screeched. “We’ve been fucking each other for three years. I think I deserve—”
“You don’t deserve shit, Grace. It’s like you said. We fucked, and if I remember correctly, we both fucked others in that time as well.”
Silence. “I would have agreed to being exclusive if you’d asked me.”
“I didn’t want to. I don’t care whom you fuck.”
Matteo was laughing quietly, making me want to chuck my phone at his pretty head.
“So you think I’ll just let you keep fucking me when you’re married as if nothing’s changed?”
“First of all, I’m not married yet. Second, you’ve fucked married guys before. And third, you aren’t anything special, so I don’t give a fuck if you let me fuck you or not.”
“Luca,” her voice became even whinier. “You don’t mean it. Why don’t we meet later and have some fun?”
I hung up. That woman had no pride.
Matteo grinned. “Your Grace drama brightens my day once again.”
“Let’s head to the dojo. I want to rearrange your pretty face with my fists.”
Matteo clapped his hands. “All right.”
I shook my head and followed him toward the elevator. There were several reasons why I needed a good fight, and Grace was only a minor one. The major one was that I needed to release the pent-up desire stirring in my body since I’d seen Aria.
There were still six months until I could finally touch that body. Six fucking long months.SIX MONTHS LATER“So, are you nervous, Luca?” Matteo grinned.
“No. I’m never nervous.”
“But you haven’t seen Aria in three years. What if she doesn’t look hot in person? Photos can be deceiving. Then you’ll be stuck fucking an ugly woman for the rest of your life.”
As usual, Matteo’s favorite pastime was to annoy the crap out of me. “You’re full of shit.” She’d been pretty three years ago. I could only imagine how beautiful she’d be now. The photos of her had been the worst kind of torture I could imagine. When she’d been underage, I’d managed to stop myself from imagining fucking her but, for a while now, every look at the photo of her had turned my cock rock-hard.
We arrived at the door to Aria’s suite. I paused, looking around for her bodyguard who was supposed to keep watch. He wasn’t there. “I should have sent you to guard Aria years ago,” I told Romero, then I knocked.
Light steps rushed toward us and the door was ripped open by a girl with dark blond hair. She was dressed like a cheap rocker girl. She was obviously trying to impress me with her barely-there hips and moderate chest. I had trouble remembering her name; she had to be the kid sister.
“Hi Luca,” she said, actually smiling in a flirty way. I had to stifle a chuckle. Did she really think I didn’t see how young she was? Then it finally clicked. “You’re Liliana, the youngest sister.”
“I’m not that young.”
“Yes, you are,” a familiar soft voice said. “Go to Gianna.”
And there she was. Damn it. Three years ago she’d shown promise, but today she looked like a fucking wet dream come true. Long blond hair, smooth skin, lean legs and firm tits. I couldn’t wait to see every fucking inch of her body.
