It wasn't a chaste peck for the benefit of the cameras. His lips claimed hers with a desperate, consuming fire that burned away the last vestiges of pretense. He tasted the wine on her lips, the sweetness of dessert, and underneath it, the unique, intoxicating essence that was purelyher. Strength, defiance, softness, and beauty.
He was only vaguely aware of Athena shouting at him to 'put his back into it' as the others hollered.
Rodrigo deepened the kiss, his hand sliding into the silk of Giana's hair at her nape, holding her still and pouring every ounce of his hopeless love, his fierce protectiveness, and soul-deep yearning into the contact.
Giana made a soft, muffled sound that went straight to his core, and she melted into him. Her lips moved under his, answering with a heat that matched his own. Her hand, bearing his grandmother's ring, came up to clutch at the front of his shirt, fisting the fabric, anchoring herself, and pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, turning fierce, almost bruising in itsintensity. It was a collision, a surrender, a promise whispered in the language of tongues and teeth and shared breath.
Time stopped. The room, the watching eyes, the threat of Falcone, their bloody history all ceased to exist. There was only her mouth, her warmth, the frantic beat of her heart against his chest, the intoxicating scent of her skin, and the terrifying, exhilarating sense of coming home.
Another roar of approval erupted around the table as they all started clapping.
"Get a fucking room!" Frederica insisted.
Rodrigo knew the moment her control slipped, the moment the performance shattered completely, and the raw, unfiltered want she had hidden so well surged to the surface. It was there in the desperate clutch of her fingers in his shirt, in the way she arched subtly toward him, in the answering fire of her kiss.
It lasted only a second, a fleeting, vulnerable crack in her armor, but Rodrigo saw it. Felt it. Seared it into his soul.
He forced himself to pull back, breaking the kiss before it consumed them. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing raggedly, the sounds loud in the sudden lull of the cheering.
Her eyes were wide with a dazed 'what the fuck?'expression, her lips swollen and glistening. The flush on her cheeks was deep, real, not painted on for show.
She wanted that, even if it was only for a second, the monster inside him purred, triumphant and fierce.She wants me.
The dangerous hope, the one he had tried to bury, flared into an inferno. It wasn't just a performance. For that one, stolen moment, Giana Sorrentino had kissed him back with a hunger that mirrored his own. She had wanted him, Rodrigo Colleoni.
That single, devastating second of truth was worth every lie, every risk, every drop of blood he had spilled and would still spill for her.
He looked into her dazed, beautiful eyes, seeing the shock, the lingering heat, and beneath it, the same dangerous hope burning in his own chest.
Maybe,a treacherous thought whispered,she could learn to love the monster after all.
20
An hour later, the heavy door of Rodrigo's suite clicked shut behind Giana, sealing her into the darkness. The sudden silence was a physical relief after the roaring cacophony of the engagement dinner. Her ears still rang with the clink of glasses, the boom of laughter, and the thunderous applause that followed the kiss.
It was late, and Giana had slipped away as the others had begun to get distracted in their own private conversations. She was wrung out and on edge and couldn't think straight in the same room as Rodrigo.
She leaned back against the solid wood, the coolness seeping through the thin silk of her dress, and closed her eyes. She hadn't expected Rodrigo to kiss her, and sure as hell she hadn't anticipated the shockwave of surprise and desire that had gone through her. Or that she would kiss him back.
One moment of weakness.That's all it had been. One devastating second of pure, unguarded desire had changed everything.
Giana lifted her left hand, the ring catching the low light from the single lamp Rodrigo had left burning. The Colleoni heirloom.
Nonna's ring,Leo's shocked whisper echoed in her mind, underscoring the weight pressing down on her knuckle. It was obscenely beautiful, ancient, and heavy. It was a shackle forged in steel and blood, a symbol of a dynasty built on ancient warriors for hire.
My queen,Rodrigo had declared before them all. Yet here she stood, her body still bearing the marks of being prey, her nerves jangling from a kiss.
With a shuddering breath, Giana moved further into the room. The carpet muffled her footsteps as she crossed the large, starkly beautiful sitting room and entered the bedroom.
Rodrigo's space. Bare except for the storm over Venice photograph. Why only that picture when he had the money to buy any art he wanted? She stopped before it, drawn to the turbulent beauty, the dark clouds swallowing the city.
Giana's lips tingled and sent unwanted heat pooling low in her belly.
Stop it. She was supposed to be playing a role. Performing for the cameras. That was all. The kiss had been part of the act. Nothing more than a convincing flourish.
Rodrigo Colleoni was a master strategist and knew how to sell a lie, but the vulnerability in his eyes, the tremor in his hand… Had that been part of the performance too? And what of her own traitorous response?
He's the monster who watched you for years and helped cage you. Pull yourself together. The old mantra clashed violently with the man who slept on a couch so she could have his bed. The man whose kiss had felt like more than the lie they were trying to sell…
