“Anyway, the reason I came is to find out why you had an invitation to the White Rose Auction. It turns out Lorenzo has the same invitation, which is curious, don’t you think?”
Vivian turns pale before recovering her wits. “Darlings, I think perhaps we should cut this luncheon short now that my stepdaughter has arrived. She and I have some personal business to sort out.” My stepmother picks up a small silver bell and rings it like she’s praying for divine intervention.
“Moira!” she yells when nobody comes. A few seconds later, the housekeeper runs in with a panicked expression on her face.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry—”
“Moira!” The temperature in the room drops by at least ten degrees as a vase of pink roses wilts. “Please show my guests out while I deal with this minorissue.”
Four of the women scramble to leave while whispering among themselves and casting curious glances at Luka and me. Roxanne lingers, though. Her hand brushes Luka’s arm accidentally on purpose as she leans in to pick up her purse. He jolts in surprise, not expecting the contact.
“Please don’t touch my man,” I tell the bitch in my nicest voice. “He’s not for sale.”
Roxanne has the temerity to laugh. “Everything’s for sale, dear.” Well, that explains why she and Vivian are such good friends.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead by now, but my stepmother manages to maintain her decorum. She dabs her crimson lips with a cotton napkin.
“If you’ll excuse me, Roxanne. I’ll be in touch later to rearrange another lunch.” Then she sighs. “Please forgive my stepdaughter for her appalling manners.”
Roxanne glances at Luka again, letting her gaze linger on his chest for a moment. It’s obvious she’s got the hots for him. Women like her disgust me. They see young men like Luka as objects.
He’s no object; he’s fuckingmine.
My animosity doesn’t bother Roxanne. She merely snickers before sashaying away in her suede Manolo Blahnik heels and a linen wrap dress that shows off more wrinkly decolletage than is seemly in a woman her age.
The moment the door swings shut in her wake, Vivian is on me like a shark chasing chum.
Her eyes flare. All pretense of politeness is long gone. The bitch is incandescent with rage. Although you’d never know it from her frozen face.
Good, because so am I.
“How dare you ruin my lunch, you little bitch!” Spittle flies in my face, but I carry on smiling serenely, ignoring Luka’s concerned frown. She sneers for a second before her lip curls up. “I can see you’re already proving me right. I told your father you needed a firm hand. Now look at you. Already cheating on your husband. It’s disgusting.”
I bark out a surprised laugh.Pot, kettle, black, anyone?
“Says the woman who was giving Tim Remington blowjobs while my dad was away on business.” She rears back. Oh. I guess she didn’t know I saw them. “I’m still traumatized, by the way.”
Luka bites back a smile, but I’m no longer laughing. Time is running out and this bitch has questions to answer.
“Tell me why Tim is now in cahoots with Lorenzo.”
Her smug smile is enough to know I’m on the right path.
“It’s business. Nothing for you to worry yourself about. Go home, Chiara. You should be pregnant by now. God knows Lorenzo paid enough money for your cunt.”
Hearing Vivian use such a vile word stuns me into silence and I lose the thread of my thoughts for a hot second. She chuckles and moves to push past me, but Luka grabs her bony wrist and pulls her back.
We exchange glances, and he nods. This is my show, but he’ll help if he needs to.
“Let go of me, you…you…imbecile!” Her pathetic cries make my ears hurt.
“Okay, let’s start again, shall we? So the invitation. What’s it about, and why is the crest identical to one I saw on a flag in a Scottish castle owned by an English bastard who kidnapped me?”
My stepmother rolls her eyes, no longer pretending to be hurt. “I thought you were supposed to be smart, Chiara. Clearly not.”
My patience is officially exhausted. Vivian is playing mind games with me. Likely stalling until one of her staff arrives to escort us off the premises.
I grab a serrated cheese knife and lunge for her. Because the stupid bitch moves in the wrong direction, the blade slashes her throat. It’s only a shallow cut, but she screams like I’m murdering her before I slap my hand over her mouth to muffle any further protests.
