“Yes, I heard, but as I’ve said before several times, I don’t need anything from the Bianchi family. I can’t see any alliance being beneficial to me.”
“Maybe not something you need, maybe something you want. Don Bianchi is offering you…”
“Sophia,” the other finished for him.
The hand I had wrapped around the antique crystal decanter squeezed.
“You cared for her once, didn’t you?” one of the men carried on.
He should have known better than to read my silence for agreement. In fact, he should have run screaming from the room. My silence always meant anger.
In this case, it meant rage.
“She was like a little sister to me,” I lied. Forcing myself to smile, I turned to them. The decanter was forgotten in my hands. “And as far as I am aware, no one has seen or heard of Sophia for years. Is she back in the city?”
I waited for them to lie to me.
“No, she’s not even in the country. Gio is with her now.”
“I see, and he seems to think I would want his sister?”
Neither one of them spoke. We continued to stare at each other. It was like they knew of my old feelings for her. And if they knew it meant Gio knew.
Had he always known?
My eyebrows shot down. No, if he had known of my love affair with Sophia, Gio would have said something at the time.
“And why would Gio think I would need his sister?” Chuckling, I sat. “Or is he really so desperate that he would sell his only blood relation?”
“He is not looking to sell her.” The older of the two leaned forwardand drew something from his pocket. By the door, Marco stiffened and reached for his weapon. But it wasn’t a gun being drawn. It was a thick, white envelope.
I waved Marco down and took it.
“And what is this?”
“Pictures of Miss Sophia. We realize it has been several years, and you might not remember quite what she looked like.”
My hand closed around the envelope, but I didn’t open it. Truth was, I would never forget what Sophia looked like. Her face was ingrained in my mind. Everything about her was.
“She is still a beautiful woman. She will make a good wife.”
My head snapped up. “Wait?” I threw up a hand. “What do you mean, wife?”
Gio’s men looked at each other, unease pinching their eyebrows together. “Yes, Don Romano. That is what the Bianchi family is offering…their only daughter and a chance to unite two great families.”
Flipping open the envelope, I pulled the top photo out and stared at it.
There she was, and she was as beautiful as she had been six years ago. Her dark hair was a little shorter and had soft chestnut highlights. Her figure seemed softer and even more inviting than ever, but it was her face that took my breath away.
She was laughing at something off-camera. Her eyes were sparkling and her lips were parted.
Sophia looked happy.
She was happy. Had she even thought about me once in the six years since she had left?
I slammed the picture down on the desk and glared at the two men.
“I am not looking for a wife.” My hand covered her image. “And if I were, it would not be the Bianchi whore.”
