“Next?”
“Drop the formalities. That may have been okay when we were first dating, but not now. Not days before our wedding, and surely not on the day of our wedding.”
“Formalities?”
“Yes.” She crosses her legs and my eyes nearly cross.
Had her skirt been a few inches shorter, I would have caught a glimpse of her panties. Was she wearing the black lace thong or the pale pink satin? I gave Elena her measurements, and she’d spent her entire day off at one of the shops in the city. I owed her big time for that.
My cousin had peppered me with questions, and I’d beaten them off with the pretense of a reserved lover. Elena finally stopped her inquisition two weeks ago when I told her my new love interest was shy and I was worried she’d be scared off at the intensity of my feelings.
I hadn’t lied to her. Gia was shy. Or rather, she had been. And the intensity of my feelings were one hundred percent revenge. They still are, but not toward Gia, just her father.
Elena is the only one I can speak so freely to, and yet she is the one who can see through me. I deserve an acting award for pulling it off. When she saw the seriousness in my eyes and the entire wardrobe I wanted to buy, she finally backed down.
After my staff had set up Gia’s room, I’d inspected everything from top to bottom. At the time, the bras and panties hadn’t turned me on. They were pieces of fabric. The shoes were part of an outfit. Now, seeing the red fuck-me heels on Gia’s feet, I can’t help but imagine her in nothing but the lace bra and panties, her high heels digging into my back as I fuck her senseless.
Che cazzo. Since when did I have a one-track mind for sex? My driving force has been cold, hard vengeance. I don’t need a nice rack and smart mouth altering my mindset.
I shift in my seat and watch her lips as they ramble endlessly.
“No woman would agree to marry a man who treats her like an object. You’re stuffy. You show no emotion. You’re stiff.”
Hell. She has no idea how stiff I am right now. My constant erection should be a sign to the priest that I want Gia. Want her desperately, even.
Shit. Desperate isn’t a word I associate with myself.
“Father Paul Michael will know something is up if I shower you with love and affection. He’s known me since birth.”
“So what is it exactly that swept me off my feet? Your money? Yeah, I can’t see a priest approving of that marriage.” She crosses her ankles and tucks them under her chair. I rather prefer them spread.
Blinking away my lustful thoughts, I cross my ankle over my knee. “We’ll need a backstory.”
“Exactly.” She leans forward and taps her finger to her bottom lip. “We met while you were vacationing in America.”
“I don’t vacation.”
“Wow. You’re making it really hard not to fall hopelessly in love with you.” She rolls her eyes and gets up, pacing the room. “Would you prefer us meeting while I was vacationing in Italy?”
“You came to one of our wine tastings.”
“Yes.” She spins on her heels, the first glimmer of happiness in her eyes. “I saw you across the crowded room and bam!”
“Bam?”
“Sure.” She shrugs, and my gaze zeros in on her bare shoulders. “You’re not the slowly falling type, I presume. When you see something you want, you go for it. You wanted me.” She rolls her beautiful eyes again and shakes her head.
“That could work.” It wouldn’t be a lie either, except for meeting at my winery. When I first saw her, I wanted to strip her bare and take her from behind. I haven’t thought about anything else since.
“Okay. So that’ll be the story. We can’t pretend it’s not a rushed marriage. I’m sure you’ve been whoring yourself out daily so pretending we’ve been madly in love for months won’t be believable.” She turns from me and faces the wall of windows overlooking the ocean.
Her constant derogatory references to my active sex life is really pissing me off. She makes it sound like all I think about is sex. The irony is I’ve only recently had sex at the forefront of my mind. I stand and trap her between my body and the windows.
“Your addendum has put an end to that, hasn’t it? The only fucking that will take place will be between you and me.”
Her body tenses. I scare her. I like that. She’s gotten too confident, too mouthy, too comfortable around me. I need to remind her who is in charge. I slide my hand down her bare arm, my lip quirking in a grin when I feel the gooseflesh on her skin.
I’d bet my vineyard her nipples are so hard they can cut the glass window I have her pressed against.