Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“I think she used you as an excuse to get out of an uncomfortable conversation.” He leans forward and plucks up some tea. The contrast between this violent, terrifying man and that little porcelain cup is almost comical. “But it’s good that we’re meeting. Bianca would’ve killed me if we didn’t.”
“Bianca?” My eyebrows raise.
“She’s my sister. She’s planning our wedding.”
“Oh. You have a sister.” I squirm slightly under his gaze. It’s incredible how much we don’t know about each other.
And how much we do.
Though he doesn’t realize it yet.
“And you have a brother. Pierre, right?”
“That’s right. He’s not home, though. Probably off at work, like always.”
“Are you two close?”
I tilt my head side to side and make a face. “Not really. What about you and your sister?”
“We have a good relationship.”
“Great. That’s good.” I smile at him, feeling stiff and uncomfortable. He gives me absolutely nothing—only stares and broods. Whatever he was talking about with Grandmother left him in a rotten mood.
“Colors,” he says suddenly.
It takes me off guard. “Sorry? What?”
“Colors,” he repeats and glares at his tea. “For the wedding. Do you have a preference?”
“Uh—” I’m totally caught off guard. “Anything but peach.”
His lips press together. “Why peach?”
“I hate peaches. Honestly, it’s just the first color that came to mind.” I laugh, totally dying inside. Why is this so strained? The first time we met, sparks practically sizzled in the air around us. But this is like getting stabbed in the face over and over.
“No peach then. What about flowers?”
“No strong preference.”
“I wouldn’t let my sister make too many decisions if I were you.” The barest hint of a smile. He really must be close with her. “Bianca’s something of a control freak.”
“It’s okay, really. I mean, we’re just—” I hesitate, waving a hand in the air. “You know, entering an arrangement.”
“That’s true,” he says, the weight of his gaze like a brick on my chest. “But it’s still your wedding. I want you to enjoy it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” He takes another sip of his tea and stands. I sigh with relief and stand with him. “I won’t take up more of your time, Lucy.”
“I’ll walk you out.”
We leave the room together, pausing only when we get very close to each other as we pass through the door. Adriano’s so big, just like I remember, and there’s that smell again. Sandalwood, honey, and whiskey. A very, very nice scent. It makes me think of him fucking me, looking into my eyes, calling me a needy slut.
The man from that night couldn’t be more different from the man here today. Right now, Adriano seems stiff and formal. But that night?
He was a beast. A monster. He destroyed me in all the best ways.
“It was good meeting you,” he says and bends down. He kisses my cheek very briefly, his hand lingering on my hip.
I get a spark. Just the briefest moment. A reminder of what he did to me. Like a shadow of that night.
But he pulls away and any connection is instantly gone.
He turns and leaves.
I watch him go, wondering what the hell just happened. I didn’t expect to get down on my knees and suck him off in the formal sitting room or anything like that, but at least we could’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few minutes.
Instead, it felt like I was pulling his teeth.
Something’s going on. Whatever he met with Grandmother about must’ve been pretty bad. I’m lost in my head, thinking about how I’m going to ruin this and let everyone down, and I don’t notice the card in my pocket until I’m back in my suite.
I take it out and stare, mouth hanging open.
It’s black, just like the one Luca gave me. That one’s still safe in my nightstand drawer, shoved in the back under a raunchy novel.
Adriano’s name is in white. His number is right below it.
But written on the back is a message.
You haven’t called. Fix that.
Chapter 7
Lucy
The Velvet Echo looks way different without all the naked sweaty people fucking each other.
The beds are gone. Instead, it looks like a traditional club. High-top tables ring around the large central bar area while most of the club’s occupants are packed onto the massive dance floor. A DJ’s spinning loud Top 40 hits and the bass rumbles down between my legs like sledgehammer blows. I stay off to the side of a secondary bar, drinking wine and watching the crowd, not sure what I’m doing here or what my plan is.
I have one night to figure this out. Kennedy can cover for me, but that won’t last forever. She told Grandmother that I’m sick with something and holed up in my room, so I’ll have to sneak back inside later and pretend like I’m not feeling good. But for now, I’m looking around nervously, trying to spot the security cameras hidden up in the high ceiling.