“Vittorio.” Mr Ricci inputs, but I can see a flicker of something, anger maybe, hurt possibly, that Father didn’t know his name, but I turn to him first. He’s nearer to me, but I reach out with my hand and face him.
“It’s nice to meet you, Vittorio.” I roll the “r” and let it linger on my tongue. It feels…nice. I smile, and his gaze softens slightly.
He has big, rough hands that engulf mine, and he looks slightly taller than his brother but not quite as wide. Don’t get me wrong, he is built, just not as thug-looking, in all the right ways. I love the way his muscles move as he shakes my hand, his crisp shirt taught across his biceps, shoulders, and chest. His eyes are so dark they’re like the night sky, beautifully mesmerising, mysterious, alluring, and dangerous. His thick, dark hair hangs over his forehead. It’s slightly messy, a mix between artfully dishevelled and as if he or someone else has been running their fingers through it. I want to run my fingers over it. I want to slide my hands into it and tug it at the roots. He has a lip ring in, and I long to lick across it and maybe pull on it just a little.
I can see the tips of his tattoos crawling out of the collar of his crisp black shirt, and I take a second to appreciate him. The top button is undone, and I see the trail of the tattoos going down onto his chest. I lick my lipsand wonder how far down they actually go.
I bite my lip a little, tugging it between my teeth as I look down at our hands. I see the hint of a tattoo peeking out of the cuff. I wonder what their stories are. I’m surprised that I want to know. His hand is so hot in mine that it almost burns; it’s wrapped around mine, engulfing it, making my skin tingle, and I really don’t hate the feeling.
While my back is turned to the others, I look back up to meet his gaze. His eyes, so intense, burn through me, and I want to stare into them. He gives me a nod, a slight tick in the corner of his mouth, and almost a gentle smile, barely noticeable but creating a faint dimple on his right side, and I don’t know why I find that sexy.
I turn quickly, shake hands with his father and brother and go to stand behind Father. I tuck the few stray strands of my hair behind my ears, clasp my hands in front of me and glance down, not looking at any of the men, even though I really want to steal another look at Vittorio. They’ll want to believe I’m submissive, and I can fake that all day long.
My mind is racing, though. How cruel the world is, creating a man like Vittorio, a man made to tickle my senses, to light them ablaze when they’ve previously been so stagnant, to dangle this perfect specimen in front of me. He’s like a god, chiselled, his strong jaw tense but so perfectly shaped, his tanned skin glows, and those eyes sent to bore into my soul and destroy me, only to be promised to his brother.
They haven’t said as much, but I feel it in my gut. I know my father. I’ve watched him for years and learnt his every move and slightest tells. I know he’s a selfish prick, and I know he will think this is the most secure andbeneficial outcome for him, anyway.
My father explains I’ll see a lot more of these men over the next few months as he’s doing business with them. Father turns to face me, giving me a stern look, and I know I’ve outstayed my welcome.
“Goodbye, Father.” I lean in and kiss his cheek. “Goodbye, gentlemen,” I say in my sweetest voice as I round the table, not sparing Mr Ricci or Bellino another glance.
I head out of the room, my eyes flick to Vittorio. Just one last look. I can’t help myself. Just as I step through the door, my eyes flick back to him, and his gaze follows me through the door. He turns and moves in front of it just before closing it. I look at him over my shoulder; the corner of his mouth ticks up, and his dimple becomes more prominent, and I return it with my half smile.
Now, this brother, this brother I could almost be on board with marrying—but the older one, it’s a firm no from me. He has the personality of a dry slice of toast.
I need to keep my ear to the ground because, by the sounds of it, they will be going forward with their own wedding in the next few months. That’s the only reason I can think of that those men would have business with my father and be here in his office. If it has anything to do with the families, they would all be here, but Mr Ricci is the most powerful one separately. Unsurprisingly, Father would pick them to sell me to.
I head straight back to my room and text Marianne.
Arianna: Possible new event over the next few months.
M: Be careful.
Idelete the messages and take the battery out of the phone, hiding it in a different location. I may need to get to that sooner rather than later.
Over the next few weeks, Mr Ricci and his sons are around a lot. I see them almost every day. I hear them talking behind closed doors and see them wandering through the halls, Father showing off his wealth, almost bragging as he comments on paintings and statues that line the halls.
Alfredo is nowhere to be seen. Father has sent him on some business overseeing a critical shipment that’s coming in, and even I know that’s bullshit. Father’s just keeping him out of the way. I keep up with my training, though I no longer have Craig, which is a shame. He could have been useful if he had taken the time to see what I wanted from our arrangement rather than treating me like every other woman he was fucking and going all marshmallow on me. I shudder at the thought. I start looking for another trainer-come-bodyguard, because I think I might need the latter.
I’m still siphoning money off, and Father just thinks I’ve got a new bag or pair of shoes, which has never been me, but what I allow my father to believe is a whole other thing. If he had paid attention and checked my closet, he would have seen that I have nice clothes, but I don’t have excessively nice clothes. I buy timeless pieces that will last. Iwant to have a good life. I don’t need to have an excessive life; wherever that takes me, I will be ready.
Alfredo returns home from his mission, and he’s not happy, but I’m honestly relieved to see him. We need to talk. I need to find out what’s happening and where his head is after being sent away. I need to play on that insecurity or anger that’s already been induced and maybe add some fuel to get the ball rolling.
He pushes into my room, glares at me for a second and turns to lock the door. I’m sitting on the bed reading, and he has a face like thunder. He stalks over to me, but he doesn’t speak. He rips the book out of my hand, throws it on the floor, and pushes me back.
He tosses my dress up around my waist and tugs and yanks at my underwear. I lift my hips submissively, helping him. It’s futile to stop him. It’s easier to just let him have his way, and then he will be more compliant after he’s eased “his” tension. He screws my underwear up and stuffs them into his pocket, and he releases his dick from his trousers without even loosening his belt. I spread my legs wide for him, and he thrusts straight in. The zip of his trousers digs in with every thrust, and I smile up at him. I like the pinch, the pain of it as it presses into my skin. It gives me something to focus on other than his sweaty, angry face.
I close my eyes and smile. My mind fills itself with the darkest eyes, the twinkling night sky so vast and open, the barely-there quirk of a smile pierces my brain, theslightly protruding dimple and the lip ring I want to nibble on, and I gasp. Lost in the thoughts of him and him alone, even Alfredo’s slapping against me can’t pull me back.
Alfredo pumps faster, but I keep my eyes closed. Where’s the harm in imagining him? Vittorio Ricci! He’s handsome, real fucking handsome. He’s perfection. I long to slide my tongue over every inch of his body, to caress every tattoo that stains his beautiful skin. I watch him as he almost floats around the house. For a man of his size, he’s unnervingly light on his feet, unlike his brother, who stomps around like an elephant. You can hear him all over the house.
Vittorio is elegant, and it’s like the air shifts with him. He’s graceful, and I see him watching me as they walk around the house. He sees me; the others don’t, not in the slightest. They ignore me even if they pass me by, but I feel like he really does. I’m not sure whether he’s just more aware of his surroundings than the others, but whenever I’m around, his gaze finds mine. There’s always the briefest hint of a smirk from the corner of his mouth, but then nothing. He schools his features, but unlike his brothers, they’re never truly cold.
I’ve learnt from the shadows that I am to marry his older brother. It doesn’t appear I’ll have a say. I mean, I always knew I wouldn’t, but they’re planning everything without a courtesy nod in my direction. Bellino’s never even had a conversation with me. He’s barely looked at me the whole time he’s been here. I don’t even think he could pick me out of a lineup at this point. He spares me nothing while he’s here, but their father is the same—it’s like I don’t exist. It doesn’t bode well for our marriage.
The positive is I’ll get to see more of Vittorio. As hisgaze lingers on me, my skin heats up; it tingles with want and anticipation. The sparks I feel running over me are addictive.
I gasp at the sensation, and I start to scream out. To my surprise, I’m having an orgasm, which never happens with Alfredo, but thinking about Vittorio has gotten me more turned on than I thought imaginable. His hand grips around my face as I squirm under him, chasing the release he grunts into my ear.
