She's wearing an elegant, light blue dress that makes her unique eyes pop. Her long, chestnut locks are wavy and cascading down her beautiful, bare shoulders. Her makeup is dark and smoky and her full lips are painted in a light pink gloss that makes me wonder what they would look like wrapped around my cock…
Fuck.
Clearing my throat, I tear my gaze away from her and back to the road. Squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, I feel a terrible pain in my chest as I realize I'll never see Victoria again after tonight.
Tonight will change everything.
“Damon, I don’t want you to be intimidated by my father. He can be less than cordial most of the time, but I’m still his daughter. And you’re his future son-in-law,” she offers.
The wordsson-in-lawhave me gripping the steering wheel tightly.
“I’m sure as soon as he meets you, he’ll love you just as much as I do,” she says, but even I can hear the doubt in her voice. Her father doesn’t love anyone other than himself. I doubt his love for Victoria even runs very deep.
We pull up to a tall, iron gate and have to pass a security check just to get inside. My eyes scan the area…watching…memorizing…assessing.
I drive up the main road to the three-story brick mansion. I remember the house well, down to the elaborate kitchen, three living rooms and the long halls I used to chase Victoria in.
The Rossi house next door wasn’t quite as spectacular, but it was fancy enough for Ciccone’s right-hand man and his family.
“So, this is where you grew up?” I ask Victoria as I put the car in park, playing dumb.
“Yep. This is home,” she says with a look on her face that I can’t decipher.
We step out of the vehicle and make our way to the front door where yet another guard is waiting. Thankfully, he doesn’t frisk me. He simply pats me down the sides and gives me a nod.
Smiling, I tote Victoria on my arm into the house. Her father is there to greet us in the large foyer.
“Victoria,” he calls. He holds out his arms, and she runs into them.
My spine stiffens as I watch the exchange between them. Watch his dirty, blood-stained hands touch her. They may appear clean to the average person, but I know better.
Then, the man I’ve hated for most of my life turns to me. I expect him to somehow recognize me, but his face remains blank as he asks, “And this must be the man who plans on marrying my daughter.”
Flashing him the fakest smile I can muster, I step forward and grasp his hand in a hearty grip. Shaking it, I force myself not to squeeze and break his goddamn bones. “Yes, sir,” I manage to say. “Damon. Damon Romero.”
“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he says with narrowed eyes, meaning he’s been checking up on me. Probably hired someone to probe into my personal life.
Baz made sure my past is hidden and my tracks are covered, so I know he didn’t find any dirt on me. And that probably pisses off the old man more than anything.
“I can’t say the same about you, but I’m hoping we can change that tonight,” I tell him before releasing his sweaty palm.
He gives me a nod before turning away from us. “Let’s eat and talk.”
Dinner is served promptly, and it consists of some fancy dish with pasta and a lobster cream sauce. I can’t even taste it as Giorgio rants and raves about his wealth and stature. My other hand clenches and unclenches underneath the table as I force myself to stay calm and not lash out and grab him by his fat fucking neck.
Victoria, perhaps sensing my unease, places her hand on my arm and says, “Damon helped me with a little bit of a crisis at the soup kitchen on Thanksgiving Day.”
“I don’t know how you can be around those street rats and not catch fleas or something,” her father spits out.
Victoria ignores his dig and continues on. “There was a water leak, and the electricity went out. We had a mess to cleanup and food to gather for the meal. It was really —.”
“That’s where you were photographed. ForPage Six,” Giorgio interrupts.
“Yes,” Victoria replies.
“Of all places, Victoria,” he says with a shake of his head. “Do you know I had people asking me what you were doing there? I told them you were forced to do it for community service.”
“But that makes me sound like I did something wrong instead of just volunteering, Papa. How is that any better?” she asks, fuming.
