LUCA
Four months laterMatteo was chasing Gianna toward the ocean, her high-pitched screaming ringing out. Aria wrapped her arms around my waist, giving me her “I-told-you-so” look. I didn’t think Gianna would return to my brother, but she had. They seemed happy enough. I still didn’t trust the redhead, not one bit, but I was glad for Matteo’s good mood.
“Let’s just hope she doesn’t change her mind.”
Aria shook her head. “You see, once you Vitiello men have wormed your way into our hearts, there’s no escaping.”
Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement.
“I never had the intention of worming my way into your heart,” I admitted because love had never been part of the bargain.
“I know,” she said with a shrug, then her smile turned playful, and my cock tightened. “You only wanted me for my mad sexual skills.”
I choked on a laugh. Aria gripped my hand and pulled me into the mansion.Later that day, Matteo and I set up a barbecue on the patio. I turned the lamb chops while Matteo picked up a bottle from our wine cellar and Aria prepared a hopefully edible salad.
Gianna stepped up to the barbecue, and I raised my eyebrows. She looked like she had something to say, and usually that wasn’t something good.
“I know you don’t like me,” she said, actually looking nervous. Gianna, nervous? “But I think we should try to get along better, for Aria and Matteo.”
She met my gaze and held it. I still wasn’t a Gianna fan, would probably never be, but she had a point. Aria and Matteo wanted us to get along. “I didn’t like you because I hated how you treated Matteo.”
She frowned as if this was a fucking surprise. “Okay.”
“But I’m starting to change my mind,” I said. It wasn’t quite the truth, but not a lie either.
“You are?”
I turned a lamb chop, and shrugged. “I’m starting to think that maybe Matteo was right and you two aren’t the worst match.” They were both hotheaded and conflict-loving. They deserved each other.
“Thanks? You are really bad with compliments.”
“I’m not in the habit of handing them out. And don’t tell my brother I said he was right. He’s cocky enough.”
Matteo came our way, arms loaded with wine bottles. For an instant his expression tightened when he spotted Gianna beside me. He knew me well enough to figure I couldn’t stand her most of the time, but he needn’t have worried. That woman was safe because she was his no matter how infuriating she was.
“He is,” Gianna said with affection. I forced my expression into something less cold, and Gianna gave me a grateful smile.
Matteo set the wine bottles down on the table before joining us and wrapping his arm around Gianna’s waist. “What are you two gossiping about?”
“You.”
“Is that so?” Matteo lifted one eyebrow.
Aria came back from the kitchen, carrying a bowl. She sent me a questioning look as she snuggled up to me. “What’s going on?”
“Your husband and my wife are discussing my many wonderful traits,” Matteo said.
Gianna eye-fucked Matteo. “You are way too cocky.”
“Admit it, you love my cockiness.”
“Done.”
“Your declarations of love still make my knees go weak,” he joked.
“Your cockiness isn’t the only thing I love about you.”
It was only a matter of time before those two would disappear for another fucking session.
“I need some bloody lamb to cancel out this disgusting display of sweetness,” I muttered. Aria smiled up at me, and I squeezed her hip.
Matteo lifted Gianna up and did some fucking twirl.
“I’m not sure I can stand them together,” I said, rolling my eyes.
Aria grinned. “Admit it, you are happy.”
I hesitated. I was happy, happier than I had been all my life. I nodded toward the bowl Aria was still holding, trying to change the topic. “How did the salad turn out? Is there a chance of food poisoning?”
Aria gave me a knowing look.chapter 10ARIAI grabbed the wig and positioned it on my head. It took me a couple of minutes to make it look natural.
I had chosen a hairdo I’d never be allowed to have because Luca would never agree for me to cut or dye my hair. The wig was a dark brown bob that was longer in the front than in the back. After spending our second anniversary on our yacht in the Mediterranean, my skin was tanned enough that the dark hair color didn’t look unnatural despite my blue eyes.
The wig changed my face completely, made me look more edgy, less sweet. I had chosen tight black jeans with a tight black-and-white striped shirt and white sneakers. I didn’t look anything like myself. This was the look of a college student and not a mafia princess. I grinned, ridiculously happy.
I stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where Luca was pulling a black dress shirt over his chest.