“Now that we have our story straightened out,” I whisper in her ear, “we need to work on how you respond to me.”
Her elbows are tucked tightly into her sides, and she doesn’t take a breath. I have my work cut out with this one. This isn’t my usual, convincing a woman to let me touch her. They are usually begging, on their knees, or stripping in front of me before I even acknowledge their presence.
“Father Paul Michael won’t believe our engagement is legit if you tense every time I touch you.” I skim my knuckles down her arm, and continue following the curve of her hips, the sides of her legs.
Her skirt is longer than my hands can reach without me leaning to the side, so I trace the outline of her ass with one hand while keeping my other on her arm, slowly bringing my hand up to her neck, where I move her hair aside.
“You’re wet for me, Gia.”
She gasps, then shakes her head. “No.”
“You want my hands to travel lower, don’t you?” I run my fingers between the crevice of her ass and would have cupped her pussy had she been wearing something different. The skirt is supposed to be easy access, but the tightness of it around her hips, and the length, makes it difficult to touch her.
Again, she gasps. Instead of pulling away, she tilts her hips. The movement is small, not a complete invitation, but it’s a step in the right direction.
I nuzzle behind her ear. “Come. Marco is waiting.”
With any other woman, my command to come would have resulted in her screaming out my name.
“Marco?” She ducks under my arm and hurries across the room, plastering herself against the bookshelf.
“My driver. We’re having our first public outing.”
“Public?” She clutches her throat. “Lorenzo.”
Pure fear and panic set in her eyes and I remember how I found her a few days ago, in a ball on her floor crying and shaking. I don’t do sympathy. I don’t do empathy. I do revenge.
But seeing the sheer terror in Gia’s eyes, in her entire body, has me softening. Not only my mind but my dick as well.
“He can’t touch you. I won’t let him.”
“If he knows I’m here...”
“I won’t let that happen until it’s safe.”
“What does that mean?”
I’m not ready to tell her all the details of the plan. She’ll kick and scream and probably run off. I need her to trust me first so I can get what I want. What I need. If she didn’t hold the key, I wouldn’t care about her feelings.
“My...our marriage will make the papers. He’s bound to find out soon enough, but once you’re mine, he won’t be able to touch you.”
“Yours? First of all, I don’t belong to anyone. Not him.” She pokes at my chest. “Not you. No one. Understand?”
The spark is back in her eyes. Good. “As your husband, I promise to keep you safe.”
“You bet your ass you’ll keep me safe.” She folds her arms across her chest and lets out an aggressive breath. “And you’re going to tell me what’s going on. This is too f’ed up. I get you hate Lorenzo. We all do. But what does marrying me have to do with it? To make Antonio jealous? Is this a my dick is bigger than yours challenge? Because I’m not a prize. I’m not an object. The only reason I’m here is because I have no other choice. You’re holding my mother and me hostage. I swear, if you go back on your word—”
“I always keep my word. Always.”
Gia looks away, blinking rapidly. Shit. If she cries again, I’ll bolt. It was bad enough watching her cry during her attack, but there is no way in hell I can handle emotional tears. I need her sass back.
“Let’s go.” I cup her elbow and lead her to the door.
“Where are we going?”
“You can’t very well lie to a priest, can you?”
“What does that mean? Our whole marriage is a lie.”