"Your walls are crumbling, Isabella." My thumb brushes against the exposed part of her back. "I can feel it."
"You're overconfident.” But her tone tells me she knows she’s losing this battle.
I pull her closer, my dick hard against her belly. "This was always going to happen," I tell her. "From the moment I saw you, this was inevitable."
17
ISABELLA
I step back from Alessandro's embrace as the music fades. His confidence infuriates me, mostly because he's right. My body betrays me at every turn, responding to his touch like it was made for him.
"It's getting late." I work to keep my voice disinterested, despite the desire coursing through me.
The walk back to our villa passes in silence. I keep a careful distance between us, afraid of what might happen if I allow myself to fall under his spell again.
I linger on the terrace, unwilling to face what waits in the bedroom. I’m not a virgin, so that’s not what scares me. It's the waning control I have when he’s attentive that bothers me.
The day has left me confused. Alessandro has been generous. Kind. Human. Combined with soft touches, the way he held me dancing, I felt like I did on the rooftop. Like he hungered for me. But I don’t want to be made a fool again.
"What are you thinking?" Alessandro's voice startles me. He stands in the doorway, jacket discarded, shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal strong forearms.
"That this doesn't make sense," I admit. "One moment ,you're cold as ice, the next..."
He moves beside me, close enough that I can feel his warmth. "The next?"
"The next, you make me forget all the reasons I shouldn't trust you."
His fingers brush mine on the railing. "Perhaps there are fewer reasons than you think."
I want to believe him. God help me, I want to fall into whatever this is between us. But the daughter of Marco Vitale knows better than to trust beautiful things offered without the promise of something in return. What does he want from me?
His hand covers mine on the railing. "Isabella?—"
"I think I'll turn in." I pull my hand away. "It's been a long day."
Alessandro nods once, a muscle ticking in his jaw. "I'll join you shortly."
My stomach flips at the implications. The bedroom. Our wedding night. The bed we're meant to share as husband and wife.
I grab my suitcase and take it into the large bathroom. I close the door and take a breath. It’s only day one of this marriage and I’m already feeling like I’m losing myself.
I open my suitcase and rifle through looking for something frumpy to wear to bed. Soon, I’m taking out every item as Irealize my servant didn’t pack pajamas. Instead, there's only sheer fabric and delicate lace in various shades of bridal white.
"You've got to be kidding me," I mutter, holding up a nearly transparent camisole that would barely cover the essentials.
The deeper I dig into my bag, the more lingerie I find.
I consider sleeping in my dress but quickly dismiss the idea as impractical. With a defeated sigh, I select the least revealing option, a white silk chemise with thin straps and a hem that hits mid-thigh. It's still more revealing than I'd like, but at least it covers the important parts.
When I emerge from the bathroom, Alessandro is already waiting by the bed, his back to me. I dash across the room and slide beneath the covers, pulling them up to my chin.
"I hope you don't mind the right side," I say stiffly. I roll away from him and shut my eyes, willing sleep to come.
It doesn’t. Instead, my hearing is now hyperaware of every sound in the room. Alessandro rustling about. The sound of fabric being shed.
My imagination fills in what I refuse to look at. Broad shoulders and chest emerging from his shirt. His large, strong hands unfastening his belt.
"Are you really pretending to sleep?" His voice cuts through my thoughts.
