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"It was, ah… too big for me, so he had to have it resized." I blink rapidly. Jeez, and I thought I was such a good liar. Surely, he’s able to see through me right away. "But I do have a ring."
He looks me up and down. "If you’re engaged, where is this fiancé of yours?
"Uh, he, ah, is not in the country."
"He’s not in the country,” he deadpans. “Couldn’t you get a little more creative with your lies?" He snorts.
"It’s not a lie." I draw myself up to my full height, which still means I’m at the level of his chest. Damn, this man is huge, like the biggest guy I have ever come across. He’s so tall that I have to tilt my head all the way back to look at him.
His eyebrows draw down, and the tendons of his throat are so taut, I’m sure they’re going to snap any second. He looks pissed-off, and honestly, I don’t know why. It’s not my fault I turned up at my sister’s engagement party to find he’s her future bridegroom. So what, I didn’t tell him I have more in common with him than he realized? Why would I, when I was so sure I wanted him to turn his back on me and never want to see me again?
"Another lie?" He leans forward on the balls of his feet. That dark testosterone-laden scent of his laps at my senses. My belly flip-flops. He’s so close, I can make out the fine lines that radiate out of the corners of his eyes. So close that I can see the silver sparks in his eyes. In this light, they seem more green, like a stormy sea just before the clouds open up and the rain pours down. He’s unpredictable that way. You’d think he was calm and serious on the surface, but look below that mask he wears to the world, and the tightly leashed emotions are there, waiting to burst out. Waiting to lash me, and sear me, and mark me, and brand me. The more time I spend with him, the more I’m liable to forget what he’s going to be soon—married to my sister.As part of the arrangement between the two families. I need to convince him that I won’t have anything to do with him.
"It’s not a lie." I tip up my chin. "My fiancé is an actor, a very well-known actor, actually. He travels often for work. It’s why I haven’t seen him in a while."And the lies keep coming.
"Where was he when you were injured and lying in the hospital? Where was he when you woke up and found yourself injured?" His gaze lowers to the scar on my cheek. "Does he know what happened to you? What you’ve been through?"
"What’s it to you?" I retort. And why do I keep digging myself deeper and deeper into this lie?
"Answer the question, Via. Has he seen you since the incident?"
I wince, but don’t glance away. "I’ve FaceTimed him," I snap. Which is notuntrue. The person I’m hoping will help me out of this situation I’ve trapped myself in—as if that’s even possible—is someone I FaceTimed with not long after the accident.
"FaceTimed?" A pulse pops at Massimo’s temple. "You need someone with you all the time, especially at night, when you’re bound to have nightmares from the incident."
"Nightmares..." I open and shut my mouth. "How did you—" I shove my hair back from my face. "Doesn’t matter. I don’t have nightmares."
"Bull-fucking-shit!" He peers at me closely. "You have dark circles under your eyes, and under that pancake you’ve slapped on your face, your skin is pale. How long has it been since you had a full night’s sleep?"
"Too long." I glower up at him. "You’re crossing a line. It’s not good for us to be seen together. You shouldn’t have followed me out of the house. You left your own engagement party. Do you know how awful that looks?"
"No one questions me."
"That may be the case. But remember, this is an arranged marriage between two of the most influential Mafia families in Italy who have been bitter rivals forever. You can’t afford to screw it up. Also, it doesn’t feel right meeting like this. You’re marrying my sister."
"Not yet," he says in a hard voice.
"A technicality. The deed is as well as done."
"I don’t have to go through with it." His features take on a determined set. "You could marry me instead. It would still mean the two families are united. I’d be marrying a different sister."
"And what about Solene?"
"What about her?"
"How would she feel about this? Have you thought about that?"
"She’ll find someone who’s actually in love with her."
"But she wants to marry you," I burst out.
"Only because she hasn’t looked at other options. Only because it’s been drilled into her that she needs to do what’s best for her family."
"You marrying Solene is what’s best for our families." My heart stutters, and a tsunami seems to build in my chest.What am I doing? Why am I pushing him toward her? Why am I turning my back on him again? He’s right, this is my chance to take what I really want. Him.
And give up the chance to figure out what I want to do with myself? I need to reinvent myself, find my focus, and I can’t do that if I plunge straight into a marriage with him. It’s why I turned him down in the first place. "I don’t want your pity." I curl my fingers into fists. "I don’t need you marrying me because of what happened to my face."
"Gesù Cristo, is that what you think? That I proposed to you because I feel sorry for you?”
