I definitely don’t think that he cares about Ana’s feelings. But I’m too dumbstruck that he’s actually given in to argue about that. The fact that he’s going to allow her to come to the penthouse today, and that she’ll be at the ceremony, is far more than I’d expected him to bend on.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I should still be angry with him about so many things, and I am, but in this particular moment I’m more grateful than anything else.
“Don’t mistake this for anything other than me having better things to do than argue with you every time I see you, Sofia,” Luca says warningly. “And I’ve already told you what I think of your mouth. The kind of woman I would marry wouldn’t curse like that. Or scream at her husband across the breakfast table.
You’re not my husband yet,I want to retort, but I bite it back. I don’t want to risk him going back on agreeing to let Ana come over today. Instead I just nod. “I’m sorry,” I say contritely, but I can see from Luca’s expression that he doesn’t totally buy it. In fact, he doesn’t look entirely happy that I’ve apologized.
“Who is Caterina?” I ask quickly, trying to change the subject.
Luca’s face smooths instantly. “Don Rossi’s daughter,” he says, taking another bite of his breakfast as calmly as if we didn’t just have a shouting match across the table. “She was recently engaged to my closest friend, Franco Bianchi, who will be my underboss when I take Rossi’s seat.” He pauses, looking up at me. “Try not to judge her based on your feelings about her father. She’s actually quite a nice girl. She might have some good advice for you about—managing all of this.”
It’s a rare admission from him that all of this might be difficult for me, and I can feel myself softening towards him again, just a little.Maybe that’s why he’s doing it. So that you’ll trust him. So that you won’t be on your guard.
Regardless of his power or wealth or status, when it comes right down to it, Luca Romano is a criminal. A man who is willing to hurt or kill others to achieve his own ends. What do I know about him, really? What do I know about the things he might have done?
I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not even for a minute. No matter what he does for me.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say tightly. “Thank you for letting Ana come.”
Luca says nothing as I get up from the table, clutching my unopened bottle of juice. But as I head out of the kitchen, intending to go back to my room and call Ana, I can feel his eyes on me.
I need to be very, very careful.
Sofia
Idon’t have any way to call Ana—my phone and anything else that was in that little clutch that I took with me the night I was kidnapped is long gone—but I assume that Luca will delegate the particular task of letting her know about the conversation to someone. Probably whoever “Carmen” is—I’m guessing his secretary.
Ana shows up partway through my hair appointment. The stylist, a tall blonde woman named Brigit, took one look at my hair and made a face that told me that we’d be struggling with it for a long time—it’s apparently, in her words, “difficult to salvage,” thanks to all the bleaching kits and box dye I’ve used on it over the years. I haven’t bothered to get a haircut in probably eight or nine months, so several inches of it are lying on the floor now, leaving it just below my shoulders. It feels lighter already, but I’ve been sitting with some concoction on my hair meant to strip the old dye for nearly an hour, and I’m completely and utterly over it.
The only thing that could cheer me up is my best friend coming through the door, which is exactly what happens in that moment.
“Sofia!” Ana grins at me, gingerly giving me a hug despite Brigit’s glare. “I can’t believe Luca agreed to let me come.”
“Me either,” I admit, uncomfortably shifting in my chair. I open my mouth to say something else, but then someone else comes through the bedroom door—a tall brunette who I can only guess must be Caterina Rossi.
She’s gorgeous—tall, with a slender hourglass figure, long brown wavy hair, and dark eyes in her perfectly shaped, olive-skinned face. With high cheekbones, feathery lashes that are almost definitely due to extensions, and full pouty lips, she could have been a model.
No wonder Luca’s friend agreed to marry her,I think dryly. I can’t help but wonder whatshethinks of the match—if her fiancé is as handsome as Luca, and as much of a manipulative asshole.
“Hi,” she says pleasantly, holding out her hand once she’s close enough. “I’m Caterina. Luca asked me to come and keep you company.”
No, he asked you to come keep an eye on me and make sure I’m not plotting anything with my best friend.I force a smile onto her face, shaking her hand limply. “Sofia.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” To her credit, she does look as if she’s trying to be friendly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?” I blink at her. I can’t imagine Luca taking time out of his day to gossip with this woman about his upcoming marriage. And then I remember—of course. She’s Don Rossi’s daughter, the same man who wanted to have me killed.
“My father mentioned you,” Caterina says, perching delicately on the edge of the tub. “And Franco told me that you’d agreed to marry Luca.”
I can’t help but wonder how much she knows. My gaze flicks down to her left hand—there’s a diamond there that looks nearly twice the size of mine, surrounded by a halo, on a band so encrusted that it looks as if it was dipped in diamond dust. She wears it as casually as if it’s nothing, but then again, to her it probably is. She probably expected nothing less from her fiancé. Everything about her is as polished and cultured as Luca is, from her perfectly styled hair and lightly-made up face, to her designer skinny jeans and stylish light blue blouse. She has diamond studs in her ears and Louboutins on her feet, and I’m reminded suddenly of this morning, when I wondered if I was supposed to wear my diamond jewelry down to grab breakfast out of the fridge.
Luca probably thought I looked like a child who doesn’t know how to dress. It still rankles that he called me a child last night. And I’m not about to change everything about myself for a fiancé who plans to neatly tuck me away and forget about me like an old t-shirt as soon as he can. I’ve never been the kind of person who wears diamonds to breakfast, and I’m not about to start.
“We’re leaving to pick out my wedding dress after this,” I say neutrally as Brigit tilts my head back, washing the concoction she slathered onto it earlier out. The combination of the warm water and her fingers against my scalp feel good, but I can’t relax. I’m too on edge from Caterina’s presence, and the knowledge that anything I say wrong might find its way back to Luca—or worse, Don Rossi.
Ana reaches out and squeezes my hand. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride.”
“Picking out your dress is the best part.” Caterina beams at me, but I can see a hint of discomfort under it, as if she knows that no one actually wants her here. “I can’t wait to go shopping for mine. My mother—”