Gianna sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” She sank down on the toilet lid. “I didn’t sleep all night from worrying about you. Couldn’t you have sent me a text saying Luca didn’t pop your cherry?”
I began undressing. “Sure. And then Father or Umberto would check your mobile and see it, and I’d be doomed.”
Gianna’s eyes scanned me from head to toe as I stepped into the shower, probably still looking for a sign that Luca had manhandled me.
“You still have to act as if you hate Luca when you see him later, or people will get suspicious,” I told her.
“Don’t worry. That won’t be a problem because I still hate him for taking you away from me, and for being him. I don’t believe for one second that he’s capable of kindness.”
“Luca can’t know I told you either.” I turned the shower on and let the hot water wash away the last hints of tiredness. I needed to be fully alert for the show in the dining room later. My tense muscles began relaxing as the stream of water massaged them.
“You can’t come in,” Gianna said angrily, startling me. “I don’t care that you are her husband.” I opened my eyes to see Luca pushing his way into the bathroom. Gianna stepped in his way. I quickly turned my back to them.
“I need to get ready,” Luca growled. “And there’s nothing here that I haven’t already seen.” Liar. “Now leave, or you’ll see your first cock, girl, because I’m going to undress now.” He took off his chest holster and wrist strap.
“You arrogant asshole, I—”
“Leave!” I shouted.
Gianna left, but not without calling Luca by a few choice words. The door banged shut and we were alone. I wasn’t sure what Luca was doing and I wouldn’t turn around to check. I couldn’t hear him from the splashing of the water. I knew I couldn’t stay in the shower forever, so I shut off the water and faced the room.
Luca was spreading shaving cream on his chin with a brush, but his eyes were watching me in the mirror. I resisted the urge to cover myself, even though I felt a blush spreading over my body. He set the brush down and reached for one of the plush bath towels hanging over the heated towel rack, then walked over to me, still in his briefs. I opened the shower and took the towel from him with a quick thanks. He didn’t move, eyes unfathomable as they roamed my body. I wrapped the towel around myself, then stepped out. Without high heels, the top of my head only reached Luca’s chest.
“I bet you’re already regretting your decision,” I said quietly. I didn’t need to explain; he knew what I meant.
Without a word, he returned to the wash table, picked up the brush and resumed what he’d been doing before. I was on my way into the bedroom, when his voice startled me. “No.” I glanced back and met his eyes. “When I claim your body, I want you writhing beneath me in pleasure and not fear.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
I was already dressed in an orange summer maxi dress and a golden belt to accentuate my waist when Luca stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. I sat on the chair in front of my vanity, putting on makeup, but froze with the mascara brush inches from my eye when I saw Luca. He walked toward the wardrobe and picked out black pants and a white shirt before he dropped his towel without shame. I didn’t look away fast enough and was rewarded with his firm backside. I lowered my eyes and busied myself with checking my nails until I dared to face the mirror again and put on mascara.
Luca buttoned his shirt, except for the upper two. He strapped a knife to his forearm and rolled the sleeve over it, then put a gun holster around his calf. I turned around. “Do you ever go anywhere without guns?” No chest holster this time because it couldn’t be hidden well with only a white shirt and it would have been bad taste to display weapons openly at a family gathering.
“Not if I can avoid it.” He considered me. “Do you know how to shoot a gun or use a knife?”
“No. My father doesn’t think women should get involved in fights.”
“Sometimes fights come to you. The Bratva and the Triad don’t distinguish between men and women.”
“So you’ve never killed a woman?”
His expression tightened. “I didn’t say that.” I waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. Maybe it was for the best.
I stood, smoothing out my dress, nervous about meeting my father and Salvatore Vitiello after the wedding night. “Good choice,” Luca said. “The dress covers your legs.”
“Someone could lift the skirt and inspect my thighs.”
It was meant as a joke, but Luca’s lips pulled into a snarl. “Someone tries to touch you, they lose their hand.”
I didn’t say anything. His protectiveness thrilled and scared me in equal parts. He waited for me at the door and I approached him uncertainly. His words from the bathroom still rang in my ears. Writhe in pleasure. I wasn’t sure I was even close to being relaxed enough around him for anything coming close to pleasure. Gianna was right. I couldn’t allow myself to trust him that easily. He could be manipulating me.
He rested his hand on my lower back as we walked out. When we reached the top of the stairs, I could already hear conversation, and a few scattered guests were talking in small groups in the huge entrance hall.
I froze. “Are they all waiting to see a bloody sheet?” I whispered, appalled.
Luca peered down at me, smirking. “Many of them, especially the women. The
