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Her mouth tightens as she huffs at Luca. “Not exactly. I’ve been asked to give you guys privacy. Unless he’s changed his mind?”
“I haven’t,” he responds.
“I guess he wants you all to himself.” She sighs. “But I’ll be back in a few weeks. Maybe then I’ll be allowed back in my own house.”
I nod glumly. “Of course. We’ll catch up then.”
She gives me another hug. “I’ll be keeping my eye on you two,” she says, then gets up and walks away backward, pointing two fingers to our eyes, then back at hers.
I’m still smiling as she moves away, but it vanishes the moment she leaves. She and Alma are very similar in some ways. They’re both sweet. Both kind and giving. But where Alma is docile in her personality, someone who’s easy to manipulate, Sofia has always been quite headstrong. Much more like me.
That means she’s not as easy to trick. We may not have seen her for a few years, ever since she was sent to Columbia. But when she was younger, we spent some time together. It makes me wonder if she’ll be able to tell the difference between us now that we’re older.
Luca’s large, warm palm slides over mine, and I nearly gasp from the contact.
“I’m sorry if I was insensitive,” he says, his tone low and his gaze intense. Then he brings my hand to his lips for a soft kiss, but it’s enough to send a buzzing shock up my arm. “Do you forgive me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“We should be leaving soon.”
I frown. “Where are we going?”
“Home.” His fingers thread through mine as he leans in closer. “I’m sorry I can’t give you a honeymoon just yet. But the house is all ours, and I’ve given strict orders to be left alone for the next few days.” He lightly grazes the tips of his fingers over the back of my neck, sending a shiver skittering up my spine.
My lips part slightly on an intake of breath. “And you want to leave now? What about our guests?”
“Our guests will understand. It’s our wedding night.”
Yes. It’s our wedding night. And Luca will expect what any husband would.
His wife in his bed.
7
CARINA
For as long as we’ve known the Sinacores and as many times as they’ve insinuated themselves into the Di Persia business and house, I’ve never been to theirs.
I peer through the car window at the gargantuan Victorian mansion that sits at the end of a long, winding drive.
Briar House.
It’s breathtakingly beautiful, maybe a bit eerie, with its mansard roof and turret. Even though it’s dark outside, the moon is bright enough that I can tell the siding is a deep burgundy with teal accents and clean white trim. Dim light filters through several of the windows, some of which are made of stained glass that I’m sure is Tiffany and worth more than everything the Di Persias have ever owned.
Lovely though it may be, there’s something intimidating about it, especially the closer we get, and it becomes hard to see the highest peak. It towers over us, an overwhelming presence that makes me shiver.
“Your house is beautiful,” I whisper as Luca turns the wheel and pulls us under the wide portico, where three guards await.
The doors of the house are opened by someone inside, and I stare into the foyer as if it’s a mouth waiting to consume me and never let me go.
Swallowing hard, I repeat, “It’s beautiful,” just in case it can hear me.
“It’sourhouse,” he says, and I turn to him. “The house is yours as well.”
“Is it?”
“Is your name Alma Sinacore now?”
