Pulling out a chair for me next to his, Luca instructs me to sit with a tilt of his chin. A waiter comes over to pour me a glass of water, and I immediately gobble it up, suddenly parched.
“I’m glad you’re all here,” Luca announces as everyone takes their seats, helping themselves to the food laid out before us.
“That’s a first,” Antonio snorts, his eyes studying me, a knowing smirk hooking his lips.
“Alyssa and I are getting married,” he declares, making me almost choke on my drink, tears spring to my eyes as I cough.
“Seems like that’s news to her and us.” Marcello raises a brow, placing a piece of bacon into his mouth.
“Mother’s money was well spent it would seem.” Antonio chuckles, pushing food around his plate. Luca tenses beside me, and a crimson tinge heats my cheeks.
“What does that mean?” Luca’s father asks, his voice weak. He cradles a bandaged wrist.
“Alyssa is a ballerina, right?” Antonio asks, summoning a waiter over with the crook of his finger. “Bring me something stronger.”
“It’s nine a.m.,” Luca bellows, slamming his fist into the table, making the plates jump and drinks spill. “Don’t bring him a damn thing,” he orders, turning to his father. “Alyssa takes ballet at Swan academy. I met her there when delivering a check in mother’s name.” He narrows his eyes on Antonio, and it hits me that they’re the ones who are brothers, not Marcello.
“Your mother was fond of that place,” their father muses. “She thought dancers held a grace lost to most people.” He closes his eyes briefly. When they open, there’s a sadness there. “Luca is to be married here at the house as soon as possible, and you’ll keep your mouth closed, Antonio. You’re a disappointment to me.”
The room falls silent, a heavy fog closing in, thickening the air.
“Well, congratulations to the happy couple.” Marcello raises a glass of water. Not waiting for anyone to chink his glass, he places it back down and fills his plate with eggs. “I’m famished.”
“Eat,” Luca tells me, placing some bacon and eggs on my plate. My ribcage is tight, the realization of what I agreed to, who I’m marrying, and the extension of that becoming a weight on my chest.
We’re in another office, this one bigger and more homely than the one at Vino’s. The décor is old fashioned but it works, large leather chairs sit in front of a roaring fireplace, a mammoth cherry wood desk with the man I agreed to marry sat behind it is the focus of the room.
“Come closer.” He summons me with a crook of his fingers, a man enters behind me, placing a briefcase on the desk, and opening it up.
“I’ll be outside when you need me, Sir.” He bows his head to Luca, smiling at me as he passes me.
“Pick one,” Luca tells me, gesturing into the briefcase getting up from his chair and leaning his ass against the lip of the table.
Walking to his desk, my heart thunders in my chest.
They’re beautiful, dazzling giant rocks standing on small rings of gold.
“Lu-uca…” I stutter, my eyes bulging at the beauty before me. Something like this must cost a fortune.
“I can’t choose,” I say, biting my lip to cause pain, helping me stay grounded,
“Then have them all.” He smirks, looking them over.
“No, I couldn’t.” I place a hand to my chest, willing my overbeating heart to steady. “You pick one for me. Isn’t that how it’s normally done?”
Chuckling, his rich sexy tone warms me in places I want to be touched.
“There’s nothing normal about us, Alyssa.” He skims his hand over the options, stopping to pick up a platinum band, a singular stone oval shaped standing on a claw in the centre, it’s stunning.
“This one,” he tells me, taking my hand and slipping the ring over my finger.
It’s dizzying, the moment overwhelming me. “I’ll have him resize it today.”
Thud.
“This is happening so fast.” I murmur, looking the ring over, unsure if I’m dreaming all this.
Taking my jaw in his fingers, the pad of his thumb strokes my bottom lip. “This has to happen fast. I’m not sure how long my father has left.”
Thud.
“What happens to his assets if you don’t marry? Will he really not pass everything down to you out of spite?”
An amused laugh rattles his chest. “It’s nothing like that, little dancer. I want him to feel content, comforted knowing I married, that I have a plan and what I’ve created for our name is safe.”
I don’t understand what he means by most of that, but now is not the time to unpack it.
“Is there anyone you need to inform about our engagement?” he asks, leaning over his desk and writing something on a form.
“I suppose my dad.” I shrug, my eyes still glued to the ring on my finger.