Stay in my bed.
How could I sleep next to a man who oozes masculinity through his pores?
If I spend the night in his bed, something tells me I won’t ever be the same again. How can I spend the night in his bed and not fall for him?
And how could I be falling for a man like him?
I have to change the subject. I have to clear my head. I have to go… talk to Marialena or something.
“What’s that bell?” I ask. Why does my voice sound all breathless? I have to gain back some measure of control.
He sighs. “Dinner bell. We eat in thirty minutes.” He looks down on me with a mixture of sadness and desire in his eyes before he kisses my cheek and releases me. He stands. “We’ll get you to your room and prepare for dinner. Everything you need should be there.”
“Everything I need?”
He nods, running his fingers through his hair, then adjusts his pants so his hard-on doesn’t show. For some reason, that makes me laugh.
“What?” he asks, scowling. Hell, even his scowl’s hot.
“Nothing,” I say, biting my lip to stop myself from laughing, but he only wags a finger at me.
“Liar.”
“I suppose you’d punish me for that, too?”
“Oh, you could count on that,” he says, crossing the room while he takes his phone out. My heart thumps, and I remind myself who he is, that he’s dangerous and can’t be trusted. He killed a man in front of me.
For me.
He wants to marry me.
So his father doesn’t kill me.
This is so complicated my head hurts.
“Come, let’s go,” he says, reaching for my hand. “I’ll take you to your room.”
I’m curious if he’ll escort me now that he believes I’m no longer safe here.
“Romeo, is your father literally so deranged that he’d seek me out and—”
“Yes,” he says through clenched teeth.
“So why do you let him? I don’t understand why you don’t just…” I hunt for the right words. “Usurp the throne or something?” Those were not the right words. Or maybe they were?
Outside the window, the sun’s begun to set, a warm orange glow touching the horizon, painting the beauty of the ocean in shades of pink and purple.
He exhales and shakes his head. “Not here, Vittoria.” He eyes the walls as if they have ears, a clear reminder of the danger I’m in. As we head to the door, he says in a whisper, “Let’s just say my father has as many friends as he does enemies.”
Ahh. He couldn’t do anything about his father without repercussions. I suppose it couldn’t be as easy as I’d thought it would be.
When we open the door, The Castle’s alive. Marialena’s at the foot of the spiral staircase chatting animatedly with Mario, and Tosca stands beside them, holding a flute of champagne. I realize with a bit of a start that they’re all dressed formally. Mario has a freaking tux on, and Tosca’s wearing something that looks like it was sewn together with diamonds.
The front door opens, and a team of people wearing casual sweats and jeans carries in huge bouquets of roses and carnations, lilies and daisies, and large armfuls of calla lilies.
I stop at the top of the stairs, panicked. Someone’s playing music on the piano, and everyone who walks by the foot of the stairs looks like they’re heading to a ball.
“Uh, Romeo…”
“Yes?” He laces his fingers through mine as he walks with me to my room.
“They haven’t seem to have gotten the memo that we’re not getting married tonight.”
He looks down at the crowd of people, the fancy dress, the flowers, and finally nods. “Looks like it.”
I have to walk quickly to keep up with his long strides. My room is at the furthest end of the hallway.
“Well, aren’t you going to do anything about that? Maybe… clarify things?”
He frowns. “No.” He doesn’t slow his stride.
I stifle a groan as we walk to my bedroom. Four large, armed men flank either side of me and follow behind us.
“Who are they?” I whisper.
“Your bodyguards,” he whispers back.
Oh. Bodyguards. I like that.
“Can’t they keep… him… away?”
His eyes widen before he shakes his head. “No.”
This family is maddening.
He opens the door to my room with a little key card, pushes the door inward, then tugs me in.
I gasp.
A large rack of clothes stands next to the four-poster bed, gorgeous, luxurious items the likes of which I’ve never seen before. Boxes of shoes sit beside them, and on the dresser there’s a black velvet jewelry box, opened, laden with sparkling diamonds. Oh, God. I’ve bought plenty with his sisters, but nothing like this.
At the very front, on display, hangs a silky white wedding gown fit for a queen. My heartbeat spikes. That’s for me. That stunning, designer dress with satin and ruffles and lace that probably cost a mint, is mine.