“As am I. Have a tray brought up. I’m not picky about food. If you have any good liquor, I wouldn’t mind a drink as well.”
“You are not… We are not…” She spluttered on some more without actually articulating a word. It was fascinating. He had never seen her struggle to undercut a man—any man, including himself—with an icy smile and perfectly sharp words.
She didn’t stutter. She didn’t falter. She was the kind of woman who showed up at a man’s club and suggested theymarryto save businesses and legacies.
But slowly, she brought it all back. She took a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a moment. There was a whole process of resetting herself, and he watched it happen in front of him.
Fascinating.What must it be like to have that inside a person?
“I have considered your point,” she said, in that prim, controlled voice of hers. “You are somewhat correct that any engaged couple should be considered to be…cohabitating at times. If we arrange someone to photograph and leak said photograph of you leaving here early in the morning, we’ll get a lot of traction from that.”
“That might even be why I suggested it,” he returned dryly, still lounging on her bed that smelled crisp and reminded him of spring.
She ignored his sarcasm. “That being said, we must consider our own comfort while we engage in this little facade.”
“I am quite comfortable.”
She inhaled through her nose this time.
“I am not. I am used to having my space to myself. I am used to a certain level of…” She paused, searching for a word, though she was back to her normal self, not faltering. Just being careful. Precise. “Solitude. It is my preferred state of being. So, perhaps we should use this time together to fully iron out an agreement.”
“An agreement?”
“Yes. We don’t want to go the route of full legal contract just yet, as that could be leaked. But an agreement between the two of us. How we will proceed, behave. Lay out expectations.”
“Expectations.”
“Are you struggling with the meaning of the words themselves or something else?” she asked, smiling sweetly. But no amount of masks could hide the annoyed snap in her tone.
“I find myself baffled by the way you speak.”
“I will try to dumb down my vocabulary to meet you where you are.”
She said this almost kindly. Luciano smiled mildly at her. He did not defend himself to anyone. He’d learned from a young age there was no point, and it usually worked in his favor to be underestimated.
But her comments grated all the same, and he had to remind himself that there was a larger game at play then this inconsequential conversation in her bedroom.
“Well, by all means. Let us iron out an agreement. But have some food and drink sent up first. God knows I’ll need one to get through this.”
CHAPTER SIX
SHE HAD INDEEDhad food brought up, and a bottle of scotch. Though Serena had moved to take the tray herself, Luciano had swept in and smiled charmingly at Pierro, who had uncharacteristically delivered the tray himself.
It had been clear he hadn’t wanted to relinquish the tray to Luciano and that he was…checking on her, she supposed. But she’d smiled and inclined her head, a nonverbalGive him the damn tray.
Just so this could all be over with.
Luciano had taken it, closed the door rather pointedly, then taken it over to the bed. He’d poured himself a glass, made himself up a plate of the elegant snacks, then settled himself back into her bed.
Herbed. She knew he did it to annoy her. Perhaps even to shock her. So she was working very hard to pretend like it didn’t matter.
But it grated. The way his long body made her large, soft bed look small. The way that it was now too easy to picture him there, where sheslept. It brought to mind the books she loved to read where a couple who hated each other were stuck at some inn somewhere with one bed. And the end result was always…
Well, she wasnotgoing to think about that right now. Not withhiminherbed.
Since he’d taken the bed, and she had no intention of being anywhere near him, even if shewashungry, she settled herself at her desk. She opened the drawer that held her notebooks. For this endeavor, she’d chosen one decorated in scorpions. An apt reminder. While she liked to use a variety of colorful pens in her note-taking, for the Valli-Ascione merger she used a scathing black. She’d drawn a little cover page with her own rendition of scorpions, snakes and rats with red eyes. It made her chuckle every time she opened it.
A necessary levity in this otherwise nightmare endeavor, that only seemed to become more nightmarish as time went on.
