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"Either way, it doesn't matter," I find myself muttering. "We both know Father won't stand for me marrying Marzia. I don't get to pick, he's already made the choice for me."
"Signore Bernardi?" a guard calls out. "Your father needs you in his office."
"I'll see you soon," I grunt at Ryder who nods at me before walking off.
As I head to Father's office, I find myself wondering what exactly my brother is hiding. I know for a fact there's something he's not telling me, because I've recognized the way he hides his secrets. It mirrors the way I hide mine.
Walking into Father's office, I find Nicoletta sitting in front of his desk.
When I walk in, she smiles.
"Enjoyed the walk?" I ask.
She nods, not surprised that I know what she's been up to today.
"Adrian," Father speaks up jovially. He seems to be in a better mood than I've seen him in for weeks. "Nicoletta here tells me you've barely done anything for the wedding. You don't expect her to do all the work herself, do you?"
"Of course not," I reply. "I didn't know the preparations had already begun."
"The wedding is two months off," Nicoletta reminds me. "Of course, we've already started! And somehow we're already behind, too."
"Well, anything I can do to help," I say, sneaking a glance at Father's amused expression. "Do you need another maid? A guard?"
"No, Adrian, I think what I need is a friend," she says. "Something like a maid of honor."
"Sure," I smile tersely. "We can send for one of your friends, or perhaps a business partner's daughter could be-"
"Actually, I already have someone," Nicoletta says with a bright smile. "And I think she'd be perfect! Marzia, your ward, can serve as my maid of honor."
She doesn't falter when the color drains from my face.
Father chuckles as if this is all somewhat amusing to him.
"I don't know if that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Nicoletta asks. "She's right here, and she's just as bored as I am. It will be perfect."
"Perfetto!" Father nods. "I like this plan."
Nicoletta beams before excusing herself. When she leaves the room, she touches my shoulder, giving me a long, meaningful look.
The moment Father and I are alone, my fist comes down on his desk. "Merda, are you fucking serious?" I hiss. "You couldn't pick someone ? anyone ? other than Marzia? You just had to go along with her plan?"
"I think it will be a learning opportunity for you." Father nods. "Treat it as such."
I curse out loud, as I head out of his office. I walk down to my quarters where a pinch-faced older woman is waiting for me.
"Signore Bernardi, I'm Silva, the wedding planner..."
"I don't have time for this."
"Please, Signore! We have to start the wedding preparations, your bride, she's—"
"I said I don't fucking have time," I hiss, advancing on her until she backs up against the walls, her breaths shallow. "What part of that did you not understand?"
"I'm sorry, Signore," she chirps. "I thought you could help out pick your fiancée's undergarments..."
"What?" I bark, taking a step back.
"Well, Signorina Nicoletta, she umm... wanted to make sure you'd like them."
"Of course…" I sigh. "Fine, get it over with. Show me the choices."
"If you'll come with me, Signore."
I follow her into the salon in my quarters where my jaw drops so hard it nearly hits the fucking floor.
Before me, the two women in my life are standing, each in her own set of irresistible, innocent white lingerie. My heart pounds and my cock throbs at the sight of Marzia. Her dark waves have been pinned up, her skin glistening with shimmering oil. She looks fucking stunning. I can't even bring myself to look at Nicoletta, even though I know she's expecting me to.
"That one," I bark at the wedding planner, pointing at Marzia. "Definitely that one."
Before any of them can stop me, I've marched right into my bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it behind me. I lean against the wood breathing a sigh of relief. Fuck—that almost killed me. Seeing Marzia so exposed...I didn't even want to look at Nicoletta. The only one I have eyes for is the one I can never have.
My cock strains painfully against my pants and I groan, rubbing the bulge in the front of my trousers. Goddamn, I want to touch myself. I want to stroke my cock until thick ropes of cum shoot over my fisted hand, with her name a dying whisper on my lips. Marzia... Marzia Da Costa. I always knew we'd end up together.
I don't think, I just unzip my pants and take my cock out, weighing it in my hands. I can still hear them outside, chatting and giggling. But all I can think about is my bambina in that fucking outfit, right there, at the reach of my fingertips... Ivory, lacy bra with a matching thong, a suspender belt, and a fucking garter, too.
