“If you’re afraid of...the dark, feel free to turn them on.”
“I’m not afraid of anything.” I lie, straightening my shoulders.
This time he does move, closing his laptop and sitting back in his big leather desk chair. “I’m meeting Lorenzo at noon.”
I opened my mouth to give a snarky reply, but no words come out. This is fine. I expected this. Stone has to take care of whatever business he thinks will give him revenge.
“Have fun.” I cross my legs and lean back as well, pretending the mention of my father’s name has no effect on me.
“You’re coming with me.”
I shoot out of my seat. “No!”
“We’re expected to attend a business lunch.”
“I don’t give a shit what Lorenzo expects. He doesn’t own me. He can’t make me do anything. He has no hold over me.” I jab the air with my finger.
“You’re correct. He doesn’t.” That beautiful, sculpted face of stone stares at me. His eyes, dark and piercing.
The unspoken words hang in the air.
But I do.
I tremble and fall back into the chair. “I can’t do it, Stone. I can’t be in the same room with him.”
“You don’t need to say a word. In fact, you’re not to speak.”
“Fuck you,” I pipe up, energy rushing through me again. “I’m not a woman who will be controlled by anyone. You don’t get to tell me what to say, how to act, how to feel...”
We both know this is about so much more than Lorenzo, but right now, he’s my biggest concern. Our sex issues will have to be dealt with later.
“You own thirty percent of the shares in Parisi Wines. I own twenty-one percent.”
I furrow my brow in confusion. I really don’t care about my heritage. Then it dawns on me. “Together, we have control over Parisi Wines.”
Stone nods once.
“Why do you care so much about his vineyard? You have your own. It may not be as big, but judging by the private jet, my mother’s accommodations, and the cash you keep stuffed in your pants, you do quite well.”
It’s hard to tell with the lighting, but I swear his eyes darken. Shit. I shouldn’t have mentioned anything stuffed in his pants.
“I have my reasons. We’re to look like a united front. You’re my wife. What’s yours is mine.”
“And what’s yours is mine.”
“Not according to our prenuptial agreement.”
“Does Lorenzo have access to it?”
“No.”
“Then what’s yours is mine.”
Stone leans to his side and rubs his hand across his jaw. It’s the first movement he’s made. The first sign of anything, really. Good. I’m glad I got to him.
“You’re not to mention your whereabouts for the past eight years.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot? I’m not going to tell him anything. You better not tell him my mother is alive. She’s dead, for all he knows.”