As the daylight fades and the sky turns from pink to navy blue, I sip my wine and let my thoughts wander. Almost inevitably, they slide back to Angelo. Or more accurately, how on earth I’m going to get out of this marriage contract.
Since I haven’t actually seen the contract, I don’t know the terms agreed other than I’m to produce an heir. Which is complete and utter bullshit.
I still don’t understand why the mother of Angelo’s heir has to be me. I’m the least suitable option. Fuck, he’d have been better off knocking up a lap dancer in a club and paying her off.
The sound of voices distracts me from my morose thoughts. A second later, the door swings open, and Luka strolls in looking like a million dollars in well-loved jeans that hug his butt paired with an old, faded tee. His hair hangs in loose waves over the nape of his neck, and he has a supersize bar of chocolate in his hand.
“For you,” he says with a grin.
“Why?” He pouts at the coolness in my voice.
“To cheer you up?”
“A divorce would cheer me up.”
The flirty little pout turns into a scowl. “If I could smuggle you away from this house with no consequences, I would, cutie.”
My eye roll says I don’t believe him. He’s a good-time guy. In it for the fun. I know his type all too well. I served guys like him at Mack’s bar a million times. They flirted all evening, talked the talk, and as soon as shit got real, they bailed.
A girl I worked with, Mila, hooked up with a guy just like Luka. She thought the sun shone out of his ass until she had a pregnancy scare. The minute she confided in him, he packed his bags and left town. Didn’t even hang around for the test result.
Luckily for Mila, it was negative, but still.
What a douche.
Luka’s no different.
“Seriously, Chiara. I don’t agree with this patriarchal bullshit. Just like I don’t agree that my sister can’t be with the man she loves because he’s not good enough in my father’s eyes.”
I wonder if he means the guard who seemed very overprotective of Fina the other day.
My eyes roll skyward again. “Being born female sucks.”
“I might not be female but trust me when I say Dad was less than thrilled to learn I existed. I think he’d have drowned me at birth if my mother had dared tell him she was pregnant.”
He drops the chocolate bar onto my lap and steps back, raking his fingers through his hair. There’s a hint of pink across his straight nose, where he’s caught the sun. From the scruff on his jaw and the faint shadows beneath his eyes, he’s had a busy few days partying.
My abandonment issues reignite, but I will never turn down chocolate. Especially not artisan dark chocolate with hints of salted caramel.
“Thanks,” I say while tearing into the foil.
“Look, I’m sorry I pissed off without an explanation. I had to go. A brand deal meant they needed photos and shit.”
“Brand deal?” I have no clue what Luka actually does for a living.
“Yeah. I have a big social media following, so I occasionally work with brands in return for things I want.”
“Sounds fun.” It sounds fucking awful, but then, I’m an introvert at heart.
“It can be. But I really didn’t want to go this time.” He moves my legs out of the way and slumps down on the sofa, his hands curled around my calves. It feels intimate. Like we’re in a relationship and catching up on each other’s day.
I don’t hate it, even though I’m still mad he fucked off without telling me. Sensible me knows I really shouldn’t care. He isn’t obligated to tell me anything. Or even hang out with me.
“I’m tired of acting like my life is one long party,” he says out of the blue. “It’s exhausting.”
“I bet. Must be hell hanging out with gorgeous women and going to music festivals.” He snorts at my sarcasm.
“Okay, so I sound like an entitled douche. But seriously, it’s all so shallow. Everyone’s too busy trying to get the perfect shot for their socials to actually enjoy the event.” He huffs out a sigh. “But as long as the brands are happy, that’s all that matters.”
