Sandro’s holding my hand in the back seat and stroking the diamond ring, looking very pleased with himself.
I keep sneaking glances at it, too. It’s bigger than anything I would normally wear, but not big enough to be gaudy. It’s perfect actually.
He moves our hands to rest on his thigh. “There are ten emeralds. One for each year we were apart.” His gaze flicks up and meets mine. “Sorry the proposal wasn’t more extravagant, Angel. The ring was just finished tonight, and I couldn’t wait.”
I squeeze his hand. “You know I’d rather have low-key and authentic over embarrassing extravagance any day.”
“I know. But you will have to get used to some pampering. You’re going to be a Don’s wife after all.”
I groan. “You’re going to have to give me some time to get used to that role.”
He lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “You control how involved you want to be. I will always tell you the truth about our business, but if you’d rather not know, I’ll protect you as much as possible."
I consider that. Will I worry more if I know what’s happening? No, I have a pretty good imagination, and it tends to run to worst-case scenario. “I think I’d rather be informed.”
He searches my face and then nods. “Okay then. Let’s start with what’s happened to allow us to be together.”
As I listen to him explain, I stroke the sleeping kitten for comfort. It’s a lot, and my new reality begins to sink in. This is the life Mom tried to protect me from. And here I am jumping in with both feet.
Would she be disappointed? Horrified? Or would she understand?
Milo is gone. Like gone gone. I take a moment to probe my feelings about that. Mostly relieved but guilty, too. I know what I told Sandro about that day on the roof impacted how he dealt with Milo.
And Giada will be marrying the crazy Russian who kidnapped me. Again, relieved but guilty. I wouldn’t wish that psychopath on my worst enemy. Even Giada.
Killian and Sully will be staying in Tampa and working with Sandro. My half-brothers. I guess it’ll be a good opportunity to get to know them. If that’s what I want. I still haven’t decided.
The one bright spot in all this—Sandro getting permission for our marriage from New York—is tainted by the fact that it depends on an alliance with my father. And my father’s stipulation is a relationship with me.
I don’t appreciate the fact that he’s forcing himself into my life. That, to get the one thing I want, being with Sandro, I have to accept him, too. I need time to think about that.
Before I know it, we’re pulling into Sandro’s penthouse garage. I snuggle the kitten to my chest and feel like I’m floating on a cloud as we step into the elevator.
A squeal of surprise escapes me as Sandro scoops me up in his arms. His blue eyes burn intensely as he holds my gaze. Then slowly, his mouth dips down, his tongue sliding against mine in a sensual, savoring kiss.
I’m instantly swept away with an overwhelming love and desire for this man. My fiancé.
“Mew,” the kitten chirps.
Sandro huffs out a laugh and presses his forehead to mine. “Goddamn, I’m a happy man right now.”
The door slides open. He carries me through the penthouse, straight into his bedroom, and kicks the door closed behind him.
Sitting me on the bed, he carefully takes the kitten. “Time to take a nap, little girl. Have a name for her?”
“Um. Maybe Peaches? That’s what I wanted to name the kitten we found at Club Paradiso.” I smile as he settles the kitten on a pet bed by the sliding door. There’s also a new elaborate cat scratching post and a bowl with food and water. My ovaries ache.
“Peaches it is.” He grabs his T-shirt at the back of his neck, pulls it over his head in that sexy way men have of stripping, and tosses it on the floor as he stalks back to me.
My gaze takes in the ink covering his wide, muscular chest and arms, zeroing in on the rose with my name. “I want a tattoo of your name,” I say, my voice husky with need. I want to be claimed by him in every way, marked as his.
He moves on top of me, pressing my back into the bed, spreading my thighs with his knee, and seating his already hard cock at my center. His eyes are hooded as he shifts his attention to my mouth.
“Where, Angel?” He grinds himself against my clit at the same time he slides a hand beneath my shirt and pushes my bra aside to play with my nipple. “Here? So everyone knows these beautiful tits belong to me.”
I moan and press my hips up into him. His mouth captures my moan, and he deepens the kiss until all I am is nerve endings begging for him to consume me.
He pushes himself off the bed, and with a wicked grin, unzips my jean shorts, shimmying them off. My G-string comes off with them.
