CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Something is off withStone. I laugh to myself as I change out of my wedding gown and into leggings. Off is actually normal for him. Actually, no. He’s on. On all the time. On alert. Aware of his surroundings. Serious. Calculated. Like he’s always planning the next step, anticipating everyone’s next move.
I’ve managed to throw him off a few times: our run, defending him to the priest yesterday, then with my impromptu vows. What completely shocks me is his reluctance to kiss the bride. Hell, he not so subtly hinted that he lives for revenge and sex, however, initiating a kiss left him paralyzed.
I touch my lips with my fingertips, remembering how soft yet hard his lips were against mine. I don’t know what I expected with the kiss. Nothing, really. I hadn’t thought much of the wedding, the vows, or the traditional kiss. I had been focused on not having a panic attack, not blowing it when the priest learned of my identity.
Stone had smelled like a mixture of sandalwood, soap, and bourbon. No doubt he downed a few glasses before our nuptials. The two mimosas Elena gave me had been just enough to take the edge off.
I hang the gorgeous gown on the back of the bathroom door and wash off the face paint the makeup artist had covered me with. To be fair, she did an excellent job making it look natural and not overdone. Scrubbed free, I start picking at the pins holding my hair back, then brush it out and swirl it into a bun.
If only I had a pair of sweatpants. For now, the buttery soft leggings and fitted T-shirt will have to do. I squeeze a glob of toothpaste onto my toothbrush and start scrubbing my teeth when a figure in the doorway causes me to jump.
“Holy shit,” I say around a mouth full of minty paste. “Ever hear of knocking?”
Stone’s cool gaze slowly assesses me from my bare toes to the messy bun on top of my head. “You changed.”
“Mmhm.” I spit and rinse and convince myself the drool down my chin is from my quick tooth brushing and not because Stone fills out his black suit like a cover model for one of those high-end clothing lines I’ve seen on billboards in California. I dab my mouth with the hand towel and rest my hip on the counter. “You didn’t.”
Again, he makes no attempt to hide his assessment of my attire. There’s no divot between his brows showing his disapproval.
“I have something for you.” He turns and walks away before I can respond.
Of course he wants me to follow him. Sometimes he barks out orders, other times he expects me to know what he’s thinking. Too tired to put up a fight, and a little turned on by Stone, I shut off the bathroom light and spot him standing on the balcony.
He doesn’t say anything when I step out, he just hands me a box.
I hesitate before reaching for it. “Sorry I don’t have the time, means, mode of transportation or any money to get you a wedding gift.” I’ve never been a sarcastic person before. Granted, I’ve never been kidnapped and forced into marriage before either.
“It has limited access.”
I scrunch my nose in confusion. “What does?”
“The tablet. It’s connected to a secure video calling program. Your mother has a similar device.”
“My mother?” I slide my newly manicured nails under the tab on the white box and pull out a tablet. “I can see her? We can talk to each other?”
Stone gives me a curt nod. “I won’t restrict your time, but you need to be careful what you reveal to her. You’re not to mention my name or—”
“Or Italy, or the kidnapping, or Lorenzo. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I remember.” I hurry my words, anxious to see Mama again. “I won’t do anything to jeopardize her safety.”
“Or yours.”
“Right. Or mine. Can I call her now?” I hug the tablet to my chest and bite my lower lip as I look up at him with eagerness and excitement.
His blink is uncharacteristically slow. He waits for a beat, then says, “Remember what I said.” Once again, he leaves before I can respond.
“Thank you,” I say as the door to my room closes.
Making myself comfortable on the chaise lounge, I power up the tablet and call Mama. It rings and rings, but she doesn’t answer. I can’t expect her to be glued to her tablet twenty-four seven like I will be. According to Stone, and to her chatter during our brief conversation two days ago, she’s happy and thriving.
That’s all I want. Well, that and to be with her. I miss her every second of every day. Curling up into a ball, I stare out over the horizon, the lull of the Mediterranean in the near distance calms me.
I zone out for a while before I realize that I actually don’t wallow in sadness every second of every day anymore. A dozen times a day, yes. But lately I’ve been able to pass the time running through the vineyards, chatting in the kitchen with Marie, lusting over Stone.
Gah. I set the tablet on the table next to me and scoot my feet on the lounge, wrapping my arms around my legs. Since when do I lust after Stone? Do I notice the faintest quirks in his chiseled jawline? Sure. Did I notice how sculpted his torso and arms were when he took his shirt off during our run? Um, totally. Do I stare at his most perfect ass when he walks out of a room? How can I not? And does the taste of his lips linger on mine for too long yet not long enough? Yeah.
I rest my forehead on my knees and moan. I don’t want to lust after him.