I leaned into her ear. “It’s perfect, vicious. Just means I get to hold a little tighter while you scream for me.”
“You’re a cocky son of bitch.” She laughed, lips brushing my ear. “You’llneverhear me scream for you, Cain.”
My arm curled around her waist. “Challenge accepted.”
A throat cleared behind us, and Amalia clapped my chest, twisting around to introduce me.
“Rocco, this is my fiancé, Kai Cain.”
His smile was tight, eyes on me for just a fraction of a second before they were back on Amalia. I decided then that I didn’t like him, didn’t like the way his grin shifted and his eyes darkened. And it wasn’t my M.O. to play nice with people I preferred to see choking on their own blood.
“Kai!” Isabel looped an arm through mine and escorted me toward the table. Amalia resisted, but I dragged her with me.
“Fuck him,” I whispered near her ear.
“Have I fucked him, you ask?”
My hold on her wrist tightened. It was meant as a joke, a dig at me, because she loved this game of seduction and provocation as much as I did. And while I knew she had a past, the thought of her sleeping with this bastard made my blood hot. He wanted her. That much was clear.
“Don’t provoke me. Not here.”
Her deep red lips dipped between her teeth as she mulled over my words, nodding subtly as understanding dawned. Killing Rocco wouldn’t exactly bode well with her family.
Dinner was, for the most part, uneventful. The food was delicious and kept everyone occupied enough that the conversation was slow. Aside from the fleeting glances between Rocco and me, the atmosphere remained light. It was a strange feeling, but in some ways, comforting. I couldn’t pinpoint a time in my life when I sat at a table as a ‘family’ besides Derek and Eva’s.
This was different. In a good way.
“Kai.” Isabel’s voice broke my thoughts. “I assume my daughter has shown you her studio.”
“Mamá,” Amalia interrupted with an annoyed groan, forgetting for a split second that I was supposed to be the love of her life. “I mean, of course, I have. But—”
“Oh, stop! I know you hate the attention,” Isabel said with an eye roll. “But let me brag. I’m your mother. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”
Amalia brought her fork to her lips and forced a smile. “Please, continue.”
“Thank you.” Turning back to me, she said, “Amalia donated a beautiful portrait to next week’s local art auction.”
My future wife was an artist, a talent she had yet to share with me other than as part of a cover story and strict guidelines on a contract. I’d been curious to see her talent and wondered which of the paintings displayed around the Villa had been created by her hand.
“All the proceeds will go to an organization back home calledCarrusel, a home for orphaned children. Her idea!”
I covered Amalia’s hand with mine and squeezed as an unfamiliar emotion filled my chest. She met my eyes.
“That’s very generous but not surprising.” But that was a lie. I was stunned to hear of this side of her, and her choice of charity did not go unnoticed.
A woman’s heart had never mattered much to me, but maybe she was changing my mind.
“So, how did you two meet?” It was the first time Rocco had addressed me since we’d sat at the table. He had a glass of scotch in hand.
I reached for Amalia’s hand. The story she’d spun and had made me memorize was hanging off the tip of my tongue, but I thought I’d give it my own spin just to fuck with him.
“I’m glad you asked,” I said, knocking back my drink. “Even though we’ve been together for the last six months, we actually met four years ago.”
Amalia choked on her water and gave my hand the grip of death. “Breathe, baby,” I crooned into her ear, and she tensed before releasing a breath. “Good girl.”
Her eyes slid toward me, and I met her gaze and winked.
“Oh, you never told me this part of the story!” Isabel set her elbows on the table and leaned forward enthusiastically.
