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And I know if I say them now, minutes before the start of my engagement party, he might just clock me.
“You will behave tonight, Leo,” my father commands, his gaze layered with ice.
“I know how to work a fucking dog-and-pony show,” I snap, turning my eyes back to the entryway to collect myself.
Just in time, too, as Luigi announces the arrival of the Guerra family and opens the front door. Don Guerra leads the way with his rather stunning younger wife, Francesca, on his arm. I can see where Tia got her looks, and as my betrothed walks across the threshold, I’m struck by her beauty once more.
I haven’t seen her since the party, and she would catch my eye just as easily tonight, her long raven locks drawn into an intricate knot of curls on top of her head. Several ringlets cascade down one shoulder, luxurious and shiny, reminding me of just how soft they felt.
Her makeup has been done to make her look older, more sophisticated, the dark points of her eyeliner drawing attention to her near-mercury-colored eyes. And her lips have been painted a deep rose color, both enticing and elegant.
She looks like a princess in her gold silk evening dress. The lines are simple, yet cut perfectly to flatter her curves before tapering into a flowing train. And I would say without a shadow of a doubt that by the looks of her, she can’t possibly be pregnant.
She’s fucking perfect, her pert breasts filling out the sweetheart neckline before her waist tapers down to her full hips. If I didn’t have more important things on my mind—like a town to conquer and unite under my family’s name—I might be tempted by such an enticing figure.
But when her eyes flick up to meet mine, I see none of that innocent child who snuck into my party. Instead, a cold composure settles over her, making her look years older as she studies me with an inscrutable gaze.
“Don Guerra, it’s a pleasure to welcome you and your family to our humble home,” my father says, striding forward with a grand sweep of his arms.
Biting back my snort of derision at his unnecessary theatrical performance, I follow as we close the distance between our two families.
“You chose to keep your other daughters home for such a special occasion?” he continues, glancing behind Don Guerra and his wife for any of the other four Guerra daughters.
I can hardly say I blame them, considering what happened the last time one of their daughters stepped foot inside this house. But once again, I bite my tongue. Instead, I step forward, donning my charm as I extend my hand to Don Guerra.
“It’s an honor to know I’ll soon call you father-in-law.” I smile as he clasps my hand with a considerable amount of force—not quite enough to be a statement, but enough to make me think it’s taking a good amount of self-control.
“And I look forward to welcoming you into the family, Signorina Tia,” my father states, turning his attention from Signora Guerra’s hand to face my betrothed.
“I’m sure the pleasure will be mine,” she says, her words formal but her delivery as sweet as honey. Not at all the breathlessly awestruck teen I encountered a month ago.
Tia is transformed.
A woman in full.
“And, of course, you remember my son, Leo,” my father says, inviting me to step forward.
“Wonderful to see you again, Tia,” I say, holding her eyes with my own.
Because tonight is about mending fences as well as showing to the town of Piovosa that our union–and our families’ alliance—is both real and possible.
“You look well,” she observes, her smile warm. But the charm doesn’t reach her eyes. They remain guarded despite her best efforts to hide the pain behind them. “Have you been sucking the souls out of other young ladies lately?”
The barb is sharp and delivered with impeccable finesse, making it sound as casual as if she were asking about the weather. I’m rather impressed. I might just like this new, more catty side to her.
Smirking, I watch as my wordless response lights a fire of hatred behind her eyes. It seems everyone is going to let her impertinence slide, and knowing that it will piss her off more to ignore the slight, I pretend it didn’t happen. Let her get through any slights before the party begins.
Of course, she hasn’t forgiven me. I’ve done nothing to earn it. And frankly, I don’t intend to. I might have to marry her and make this alliance work, but I don’t have time for her hurt feelings, nor do I have the inclination to make amends when I still suspect her family is using this to avoid relinquishing their territory.
“You look more than well,” I observe, my smirk stretching into a wolfish grin as I dare to let my eyes take in her striking figure, and I gesture to her gown. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dress worn so well.”
“Charming,” her mother observes flatly, speaking for the first time. When I glance her way, she gives the slightest of eyebrow raises to confirm the subtle sarcasm.
The tension is palpable as Tia’s cheeks color, her arms wrapping protectively around her stomach, as if to cover herself, and her father’s eyes narrow in my direction at the same time as my father’s do.
But before either have the chance to confront or chastise me, the first of our guests start to arrive. We all turn toward the door, posing a united front to welcome them. It turns into something more of a parade of people, with over three hundred guests on the invitation list and most seeming to make an appearance despite the very last-minute nature of the party.
The whole grand affair was put together in less than a week. Invitations were sent out the same day the Guerras provided the proof of paternity. Since then, the estate has been a madhouse of preparations. Of which I’ve given no input at all aside from a few guests I most definitely want to attend.
