"Just tired." The lie came easily.
His hand slid to the small of my back as he guided me to my seat, fingers splayed possessively across my spine. The heat of his palm burned through the thin fabric of my dress, and I fought the urge to lean into him. To let him steady me the way my traitorous body wanted.
"You're trembling," he murmured, his lips close enough to my ear that his breath raised goosebumps along my neck.
"I'm cold," I lied again.
His thumb traced a slow circle against my spine. "Liar."
I pulled away before I did something stupid like turn into his touch. Like remind everyone in this room that underneath the business arrangement, we burned for each other.
A server appeared with coffee. The rich aroma hit me like a wave, and my stomach lurched. I pushed the cup away, breathing through my mouth.
"Water," I said, voice strained. "Just water, please."
Marco and Angelo exchanged glances.
"Perhaps Mrs. Romano would prefer tea," the server suggested. "We have ginger tea that might settle your stomach."
"That would be lovely," I managed, ignoring the speculative looks.
Luca's fingers tightened on my knee. "Marco, brief my wife while I take a call."
He disappeared, leaving me alone with his men.
"Ricci's a snake," Marco said bluntly. "He's been circling for weeks, making noise about meeting you, asking questions about the marriage. So the boss decided to control the situation—invite him here, on our territory, and put on a show." His eyes met mine. "Ricci suspects the marriage isn't legitimate. This meeting is your husband's way of proving him wrong. You two need to look madly in love, completely united. Convince Ricci there's nothing to exploit."
"About our marriage?"
Marco's silence was answer enough.
The server returned with ginger tea. As I wrapped my hands around it, a memory surfaced—my sister Isabella three years ago, pushing away coffee with the same revulsion. She'd been pregnant then.
I needed proof, not speculation. Despite Luca's security, I still had resources he didn't know about.
"You're all treating me like I'm made of glass," I observed. "Why?"
"The boss was clear about your position," Marco replied uncomfortably. "Protected," he said when I pressed.
I'd noticed the same protective instincts in all of Luca's men lately, though Francesco seemed more interested in the details than the others. Always asking specific questions about my routines, my preferences, my schedule - claiming it was for "comprehensive security coverage." Something about his eagerness felt different from the others' professional caution.
Different words for the same reality. I had traded one cage for another.
"Mrs. Romano." A female voice interrupted.
Adriana approached—Luca's sister, unmistakable with her aristocratic features.
"May I borrow you for a moment? Girl talk."
I followed her to a small office covered with fashion sketches.
"So," she said, closing the door, "you're the woman who tamed my brother."
"Hardly. It's just business."
"Right. Business that had him storming around like a thundercloud this morning."
She moved to adjust a silk scarf draped over a dress form—one of her designs, I realized. The fabric was stunning, deep burgundy with gold threading. "Luca thinks I don't know how he checks on me. Weekly security reports. Background checks on every client who orders custom pieces. He's been protecting me since I was fifteen, and he still can't just ask if I'm safe." Her smile was fond despite her exasperation.
