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I stare up at him, and the look in his eyes morphs my inner tension into instant desire. I wish we were back in my bedroom—in my bed—before I realize that he has stopped us at the perfect spot for the milling photographers to get a shot of our entry. Right when I’m gazing up at him with what probably looks like adoration.
Again.
Cameras are everywhere, snapping in quick succession as he turns us slightly and nods at some of the photographers. Eventually, we move farther into the room.
“Well done,” I mutter. “Very calculated.”
“Of course. I want everyone to see that we are united as a couple tonight,” he says. “Though I will not be by your side all evening. I have business to attend to.”
“Business? Of course you do.” My tone is dry, but I dutifully smile at one of the lingering photographers as they snap yet another final shot of the “happy” recently wed couple.
“I will never be far away from you, Bianca.”
“You, or your kill team?”
He doesn’t flinch at my attempt to get a rise.
“Don’t worry, Rio, I know what you expect of me tonight. I’ll behave.”
“See that you do.”
He stops a passing server, snags two fluted glasses filled with sparkling wine, hands me one, and takes a sip of his own.
His eyes meet mine over the rim, and my stomach churns.
I lift my glass and take a huge, fortifying gulp. “Will there be anyone I know here this evening? Do you expect me to make conversation with anyone in particular, or should I just wander and be seen? What do you need me to do, Rio? Why have you brought me here?”
I’m under no illusions. Rio wants me here for his purposes, not mine. My plea for something more than imprisonment at his estate probably just came at an opportune time.
“You won’t be alone for long. People will flock to you. They will want to meet you—talk with you—because everyone is curious about the new Mrs. Bianca Agosti. If they ask how we met, be vague. Tell them our families have known each other for years. That, after all, is essentially true.”
He lifts one of my hands and dusts a light kiss over the knuckles in a gesture that feels staged. “I will be back later to claim a dance from you, Bianca.”
I resist the urge to snatch back my hand, and instead, I narrow my eyes at him. “Off you go, then,” I manage. “Better not keep yourbusinesscolleagues waiting.”
His lips mash into a thin line. “Keep up the attitude, and you will pay for that later, my dear wife. In the bedroom.”
“Oh, goody.” I keep my tone light and slightly sarcastic, but I can’t deny the shard of desire that shoots through me at the thought of what his bedroom punishment may entail.
Moments later, Rio disappears, swallowed up by the crowd, and I am left alone for what feels like the first time since this monstrous whirlwind began outside the Lots of Paws Rescue Center all those weeks ago.
Of course, I’m not really alone. There are several of Rio’s goons dotted throughout the room, including the one who heads up his security team. His second-in-charge, Francine told me.
Danelli meets my searching gaze with his usual deadpan look. He too is dressed in a tux like Rio, darkly handsome and faintly dangerous-looking. But he is nowhere near as powerfully sexy as his boss. It seems my husband is the only one in the room who can instill desire in me with merely a slanted look or a delicate touch of his fingertips against my skin.
Rio’s second lifts his glass in a mocking salute, and I turn away from him in a deliberate dismissal and begin to meander, scanning the crowd to see if there is anyone I may know. Unlikely, as these are not the type of people with whom I ever mingled as Bree Walker.
But if there’s someone—anyone—who knew me before, maybe I can get a surreptitious message out to explain a little of what happened and somehow detangle myself from this mess.
A light hand on my elbow stops me only a few seconds into my exploration of the room. “Hello there. You look beautiful this evening, my dear. So much like your mother.”
Carlos Rossi smiles at me with his twinkling eyes that somehow hide the truth of the monster I know must lie within. They are all so good at it—putting on the mask of civility.
The two security guards flanking him are carrying, and they are not as good at hiding it as Rio’s men. Or perhaps it’s just that their suits are not so expensive, and the cut of their jackets doesn’t completely hide the bulge of their guns.
“Hello, Carlos. Fancy seeing you here.”
He laughs at my wry tone. “Indeed. Everyone who is anyone is here this evening, my dear. There will be much interest in you, I am sure. Can you feel the eyes of the crowd upon you yet?”
