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I glare at him. “I’ll leave that to you,” I tell him sharply, ignoring Don Rossi’s expression at the reference to his daughter. “Proof of consummation won’t be necessary,” I continue, turning back to face Rossi.
He frowns. “This marriage needs to be legal,” Rossi cautions. “There can be no question that Sofia Ferretti is your wife in all ways.”
I smile blandly at him. “Of course,” I say simply, my expression giving away nothing. “Have you ever known me not to take a woman to bed, if I have the opportunity to get her there?”
Sofia
I’m waiting for Luca when he returns to the penthouse.
His look of surprise is almost satisfying enough when he sees me standing by the window in the living room, wearing a knee-length red sleeveless dress and nude Louboutin pumps, a pair of yellow gold diamond studs in my ears to match the ring on my finger and a diamond cuff on my wrist. I don’t have any makeup or anything to style my hair with here, but I did find a hairbrush in one of the drawers, and there’s enough product left in it from last night that it still falls in slight waves around my face.
“It’s still blonde,” I say, allowing a hint of apology into my voice as I push a curl away from my cheek and look across the room at him. “But I’m sure the stylist you’re sending will take care of that in the next few days.”
It’s incredibly gratifying to see Luca speechless, even if it only lasts a few seconds. Then I see his expression go carefully blank, and he strides into the room, his hands shoved carelessly into his pockets. It reminds me of the way he stood across from me in his bedroom last night, and a small shiver runs down my spine.
“I see you enjoyed your shopping trip.”
“Is it a shopping trip, if I don’t leave the house?”
“I’d hate to know how much it would have cost otherwise, if it wasn’t.”
Luca and I face off on opposite sides of the window, the vast city stretching out underneath us. Looking at him in the soft light, it’s easy to see why so many women have swooned over him—why he expected me to do the same. I’ve never seen a more handsome man. Everything about him is perfection, from the chiseled lines of his face to the cut and swoop of his dark hair, to the expert tailoring of his suit. Every inch of him screams wealth, power, and control, and it both terrifies me and intrigues me all at once.
Mostly I want to know why he’s going to such lengths to keep me safe. Is it the possibility of breaking me? The gratification of owning a wife the way he owns everything else? Something darker? I can’t believe that this is all because of a promise that he didn’t even make.
“Why did you bother dressing up for me?” Luca’s voice is dangerously soft. His eyes linger on my face for a moment, and then boldly sweep downwards over the rest of my body, reminding me that even if he can’t touch, I can’t stop him from looking at me—the wife he bought today.
And in five days, I’ll be his wife in the eyes of man and God—in word, if not in deed.
“Who said it was for you?” I look up at him, lifting my chin and meeting his eyes. “Can’t a girl wear a pretty dress for herself?”
Luca shrugs. “I don’t pay much attention to the things women do to amuse themselves.”
“No, I suppose you don’t. Only what they can do to amuseyou.”
His gaze darkens, and he takes a step towards me. “Are you planning to amuse me tonight, Sofia?”
I pretend to look shocked. “We’re not even married yet,Mr. Romano. Surely you wouldn’t expect—”
“You’d be surprised what I might expect.” His voice drops an octave, and he takes another step. He’s too close to me now, closer than I’d planned to allow him. My heart flutters in my chest despite myself—this wasn’t what I’d planned. “And call me Luca. Mr. Romano was my father. Husbands and wives should call each other by their given names.”
“That wasn’t in the contract.” My voice sounds breathier than I meant for it to. Silently, I curse the fact that he seems to affect me like this every time he’s near. How am I supposed to gain the upper hand in this situation when just being within touching distance of him makes my hands tingle and my palms sweat, my stomach tying itself in knots just from the scent of his cologne?
He smells like salt and lemons, but not the cleaning-product scent of cheap citrus fragrance. Luca’s cologne smells rich and expensive, like saltwater and lemon trees and sugar, like dessert with an edge, like drinking limoncello on a sailboat while the sea breeze tousles your hair. I take a deep breath, and I realize as my skin flushes with embarrassment that I’m breathing him in.
I can’t help it. I’ve never been so close to a man like Luca, never spent so much time around any man who looks like him, who commands others the way he does, who truly believes that the world was designed especially for his pleasure. And in five days, I’m supposed to marry him.
“How do you know?” His mouth twitches slightly, as if he wants to laugh. “You didn’t read it.”
“Because you told me what was in it!” My voice rises, and Luca’s mouth does quirk upwards then.
“And you believed me?” His voice is deep and rich, drifting over me like smoke. “You’re very naïve, Sofia.”
I swallow hard. “How do you think I ended up in that club?”
Luca’s gaze slides over my face. “By listening to the wrong people.”
“And I should listen to you?”
