‘Dinner has been slated for seven this evening. Rosa will send a few dresses to choose from. He’ll pick you up. Be ready.’
I scrunch my face up and turn from the mirror I’ve been staring into blindly for the last few minutes.
It sounded like a command, and it was. Xander calls, and I go. It is the terms of our engagement this time. My throat tightens, and I smile at myself, infuse some warmth into my voice, and answer.
‘Of course, Ryder.’
Ryder is Xander’s underboss, second in command, and the person calling me to set up a date with my would-be husband.
I smile again and sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
‘Are you okay?’ Ryder asks. His voice is rough and hoarse. The way it has always been. Possibly the way it will always be until he stops smoking a thousand cigars a day.
I nod, though he cannot see it. Or me. ‘I am. I’m excited to get out of the house.’
He gives a sardonic laugh. ‘You don’t have to lie to me. I know this is difficult for you.’
Ryder had been beside Xander during our first breakup, too. He’d gotten front-row tickets to the fights, and when I’d left the house, he’d been the one to call in the driver and send me on my way.
He probably knew how difficult it was being with Xander. He was smart enough to see it coming from the safe distance of his stoic mask.
‘I’m fine.’ I’ll be fine.
He doesn’t push. ‘Alright. I’ll call you when he’s ready to leave. And send a driver with Romero to pick you up.’
He hangs up, and I drop the phone on the dresser and get off my chair. It’s already late afternoon, and the sun is doing a slow dance across the sky from east to west.
Xander won’t like to be kept waiting, and I don’t need to have him barking at me to get me on my way to dinner.
Lucian is out with Daniel somewhere. I didn’t ask because neither of them seemed to want me to come along with them.
I slip into the bathroom to take a long bath, soaking in a lavender bubble bath that’s supposed to be soothing. I don’t feel any better when I step out of it thirty minutes later.
I have just finished moisturizing and stepped back from my nightstand dressed in a blue evening dress when the trill of the doorbell fills my ears. I know it’s Rosa before I shove the door open and greet her barely peeking head.
She’s holding about three bags already, a few more people trailing behind her with what appears to be more clothes in designer bags.
Nothing but the best for the Vittorios. I already feel tired.
‘Do we really need this much?’ I mumble, snapping the door closed behind him. Romero hefts the bags in his hands onto the couch and strides out of the room with a nod, probably back to the door where he’s been standing guard.
‘We do. You’ve got to look like a Vittorio.’ Rosa drops her own bags a lot more carefully onto the couch and points at one of the men who arrived with her to start unpacking.
There are designer clutches, a few more in the standard red, black, and white colors to match what I’m certain are simply luxurious dresses.
I trail my fingers over each one, feeling the quality of the fabric beneath my fingers.
They’re gorgeous, for sure.
There are also some jewelry pieces when Rosa opens one of the smaller boxes; a delicate silver ring with an engraved sun cradling a small simmering opal.
A matching necklace features the same sun with a larger opal hanging gracefully from a silver chain.
The next box has a white gold ring with a beautiful aquamarine gemstone set right in the center. The band is crafted to look like waves. I have to admit it’s stunning in it’s simplicity. Like something he’d known I’d love.
Its necklace has a round aquamarine pendant on a white gold chain.
And there are a few boxes of shoes. But not just shoes. When I look at the labels, my eyes widen.
Some of these shoes would feed a family for a month.
Rosa coughs behind me. “Miss, your stylist.”
She ushers to a slight man, who is dressed to the nines in a bespoke suit and designer sunglasses. He steps forward, and takes my hand. “Darling,” he purrs. “Are you ready for your entrance?”
I snort. “I guess.”
Rosa leans in. “What are you thinking? Something classic, or something striking?”
“Striking,” the stylist murmurs. He leans forward. ‘She’s got cheekbones and the face for it definitely.’ The man takes my face in his large hand and tilts my face to the evening light streaming in through the large windows.
I pull my face out of his grasp and turn to Rosa. She already has a glare on her face, and it’s directed at him.
‘You’re better off not doing that when Xander is in range. You’ll lose your hands and a family member just for that.’ She sweeps her head away without waiting for an answer when the man blanches.
I smile, but she’s said exactly what I had in mind. Xander would never let him get away with putting his hand on me, as innocent as that was. He’s so possessive sometimes it makes me feel safe; other times, I just feel crazy.
“Sorry. Part of the territory, I guess,” I shrug.
The stylist nods. “I would expect no different.”
‘You have a few minutes. Get to work,’ Rosa snaps and waves her hand at me.
The man holds his hands out. ‘I’m sorry I did that.’ He grimaces, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “I get carried away, especially when I see a face with so much potential. I’m Mark.’
I place my hand in his. ‘Well, very flattered to hear that I have potential I guess. She’s right, though. Xander doesn’t give a warning, Mark.’
“Noted,” he murmurs.
‘Do we do this in your room?’ Rosa’s brow is tipped up, and she’s not smiling. She’s pissed at him, and she’s making no effort to hide it.
I don’t even understand why she’s here. She runs security at Amory Corp. She shouldn’t be here getting me ready for dinner. But no one tells Xander how to run his empire. It definitely wouldn’t be me.
‘Yes.’ I lead the way to my room, and the man files after me. The sound of the crackling bags behind me fills me with a dull sort of dread; my stomach is jittery, and I’m feeling nervous suddenly.
Maybe because it’s dinner with Xander, and they’re obviously all here to make sure I’m ready for it, like I need to be pruned and primed just for him.
I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Mark smiles. “So. Bold and striking work for you?”
“Yes, sure,” I smile.
I’m definitely not going to say no to a makeover.
Mark agrees. “So,” he says, “What brings you here, to be a mob wife?”
I snort as he rubs foundation over my skin, dabbing it in to blend with the other creams. “I don’t think I had an option. I’ve got a mafia dad and mafia brothers as well.”
“Look at you. A princess, one might say.”
I wince. “Oh no. Please don’t say that.”
Mark laughs. He motions for me to close my eyes as he brushes makeup on my lids. “Don’t ever turn down a crown that’s offered to you, darling. Just my two cents.”
“Even if the crown comes with thorns?”
“Especially then. Jesus is remembered just as much as anyone,” Mark winks at me.
He continues to do my makeup, and I let the brushes and potions slide over my skin. Finally, he steps back. One of his manicured eyebrows raises. “Want to see?”
“Sure.”
Mark spins the chair so I face the mirror. The woman looking back at me…
Well.
Bold is definitely the right word.
My eyes look smoky, a line of eyeliner and a bold shadow over my lids to highlight the shape of my eyes. My lips look plump and red. I lean into the mirror and watch as the woman in there moves with me.
I have no doubts about my self-esteem. I am a beautiful woman, and I know it. But I look even better today. The makeup is not subtle, but it still highlights my best features.
Rosa whistles softly, and she’s back to smiling. ‘Let’s do the dresses.’
I roll my chair back and watch as she holds up a red Valentino dress, which I immediately reject . It’s too glamorous, like something I’d wear to a red carpet than a dinner date.
The dress is sewn with silk, and It has been beaded subtly along the sleeves and bodice, with a figure-flattering silhouette framing the hips and flowing gently to the floor. It’s beautiful, but it’s not me.
‘I see. Not a red girl?” Mark says, his voice light.
I shiver. “No. Not at all.”
“In that case, what do you think of the black?’ Mark asks. He’s holding up a black dress that’s a lot simpler but still doesn’t look any less expensive.
The dress shimmers in the light, it’s a classic boat neck inlaid with sequins and made of delicate lace. It moves fluidly even as Mark holds it up for me to see. The iconic interlocking GG logo has been subtly weaved into the fabric.
It’s gorgeous.
I sigh. “No. Unfortunately I’m morally opposed to Gucci.”
Mark’s eyebrows gather in surprise. “No one is morally opposed to Gucci.”
“Literally everyone in my world wears it. What else?”
He holds a hand to his chest. “Madam. I believe that I need time to recover from the dismissal of the greatest designers on earth.”
I smile. “Come on, Mark. You’re good at this, right?”
“The best,” he says dryly.
“What else?”
Mark sighs. He turns and rifles through the clothing rack, muttering to himself. Rosa catches my eye. “Seriously?”
I arch an eyebrow at her. “I might be Xander’s wife, but I’m my own person. I want him to know that. I want everyone to know that,” I say, emphasizing everyone with intention.
Rosa shakes her head. “Your funeral.”
“Maybe,” I mutter. “Even more reason to wear whatever the hell I want.”
She’s quiet after that.
Mark finally turns. He holds out two options. “Okay. Pick,” he says, clearly annoyed.
I stand to examine the dresses. One of them catches my eye, and I grin.
“That one.”
Mark leaves the room. Rosa helps me into the dress, and when he returns, I’m all smiles in the mirror.
Mark whistles. “Wow. Okay, you called it.”
I smile in the mirror. It’s a champagne silk dress that’s got a slit on it so high, there’s no way I can wear underwear.
The bust is tight, pushing my breasts up so they’re on display, and the waist nips in, emphasizing the curve of my waist.
It’s borderline indecent.
And it’s going to drive Xander absolutely nuts that everyone is looking at me in it.
Rosa stands behind me. “He’s going to lose his shit.”
“I’m counting on it.”
She laughs, and for a second, I see the respect gleam in her eyes. “Good luck, Miss.”
“Thanks, Rosa.” I turn to Mark. “Alright. Accessories?”
“You got it, mafia queen.”
By the time the driver arrives and Romero strides back in to inform me, I’m all decked out in so much expensive finery I’m certain I’ve got to be wearing a king’s ransom.
He leads me outside, his eyes respectfully tilted to the side as he opens the door of the black limo and holds it as I slid into the car.
The leather beneath me is cool and I place my head against the headrest, close my eyes and let myself just breathe.
The car purrs and pulls away from the driveway. The drive is silent and long and I spend it sipping from the glass of Krug Champagne which has been provided for me.
I’m feeling a little calmer by the time Romero opens my car door and nods at the entrance where a maitré d is waiting to lead me into the restaurant.
I tap in my heels to the door and follow him to the table where Xander is already seated.
He lifted his head to meet my eyes, pulled his phone from his ears, hung up without taking his eyes off me and did a deliberate sweep of the bold Valentino gown I’d finally decided on.
I could almost feel him undressing the silky drape of the champagne dress off my hips, the sheer panels along the side allowing a glimpse of skin, which his eyes seemed to particularly enjoy.
Then, his eyes go dark. “Who saw you in this?”
“Oh, people. Anyone on the street. Rosa. Romero.”
Xander’s eyes flash. “Who on the street, Mel?”
“Literally anyone with eyes. I can’t stop them from looking at me.”
He looks at the wait staff, who look pretty nervous to see Xander glaring at them.
“Leave them alone, Xan,” I say softly, my instincts kicking in. “I’m here with you.”
He nods stiffly, then goes to pull out the chair. I walk over to him, my heels clicking on the floor. I sit, gently, and he pushes the chair in.
When he sits, his eyes darken again. As we sit, the bustier on my dress presses my breasts up.
If my calculations are correct, my nipples are almost hanging out of the fabric.
His face is flushed, and I can’t tell if it’s with rage or lust.
Internally, I smile.
Take that.
Xander gulps and grabs his wine glass, his fingers clutching the delicate stem a little too hard. ‘I’m glad you came. And doubly glad it’s just us here, that dress. It’s torture.’
He slides his hand across the table and holds it out long enough that I place my hand in his and inhale shakily when he squeezes before turning my palm over and places an oddly sweet kiss in the center.
I’m glad you came, like there had been a choice. Ryder hadn’t made the call like there had been one. When Xander Amory Vittorio called, you went.
‘Are you?’
I look around the restaurant and give him a wry smile. It’s just us minus the bustling staff who have made a show of the meal.
The restaurant aptly named Éclat de Saveurs, literally meaning ‘burst of flavors’ according to the staff, seems to have lived up to its name.
I had ordered the Truffle-infused Wagyu Steak with Gold Leaf Garnish while Xander had gone with Lobster and Cavier.
It’s a rich meal, but the man can afford to pay—said man is leaning across the table into me like he has something to say that isn’t for anyone but me.
His musky smell of lethal energy and leather is so seductive it has me curbing the urge to strain forward for more of it.
The strict cut of his suit has him so mouth-wateringly good he looks like he came straight off from a model shoot. One for men of the mafia who look like they will devour you with one straight gaze.
‘Very glad. Do you have doubts?’ He inclines his head right, a strand of his hair flopping carelessly against his face. His eyes are the intense gaze of a hawk circling above.
I laugh, more to relieve the ache in my chest than because any of it is funny. I slant my head towards him, my favorite Stuller necklace moving with the motion; I had been shocked he’d still remembered. ‘None at all. You’ve never lied Xander. Not once.’
He jerks away like he hasn’t been expecting such blunt truth. My heart is thundering in my chest, and I’m holding on barely.
He looks handsome, almost delicious, with that heat in his gaze tracking my every move, sparking a blaze in my chest. One that just isn’t letting go.
‘I wasn’t expecting that.’ He murmurs after a long moment of silence.
‘I know. We can’t all be predictable, can we?’
‘Am I?’
I shrug. ‘We still haven’t signed the contract.’ I nod to indicate the empty restaurant.
‘You didn’t call me to set up dinner. And you had Rosa bring the dresses. It’s what you’ve always done.’
His eyes glint with challenge down at me, and my nipples tighten beneath the cup of my dress.
Mark had insisted a bra would ruin the cut of the corset gown. Despite Rosa’s protests, I had agreed with him, and that had been the end of it. Given the high slit, I’m actually wearing no underwear under this.
I hope Xander figures it out.
And I hope it drives him nuts..
‘You never used to hate any of it.’ He lowers his voice and makes a tent out of our bent heads, his forehead almost grazing mine. ‘I remember quite distinctly you used to love being alone with me.’
Damn him. He had no right to say that. It had been years ago. That had been another lifetime ago. We had changed.
‘You’re sprouting history, Xander.’
His eyes darken when I roll my tongue over his name. His eyes linger on my lips for a second before he pulls away and straightens his suit. I miss his warmth immediately and almost regret my words.
Almost.
‘My mistake. And if you keep staring at me that way, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Or yours.’
I know exactly what he means. But it’s not like me to give an inch. Not when he’s involved.
I wet my lip, hoping I don’t ruin Mark’s careful job on my face. ‘What actions?’
The meal on the table is almost done with. I’m tasting him. It would be just like Xander to lean across the table and take my lips with his. He hadn’t cared before. I was his woman, and that’s all that mattered to him. Then.
Now he moves his head from side to side ruefully and jabs a look at my phone on the table. I know what he’s about to say before the words slip out of his tightly clenched lips.
‘You’re not using the phone Rosa provided.’
I bristle. I have Romero and the safety of Amory Corp and my father’s house. He doesn’t need to keep me chained to him like a dog. ‘I have it with me. Isn’t that all you need?’
‘I also know you don’t have your pretty little bags with you at all hours, not like this phone. Maybe we should have a tracker embedded here.’
He takes my hand in his and rubs his thumb over my wrist gently back and forth.
‘I’d feel so much better.’ He grumbles. He takes the fork and has a mouthful of his caviar.
I take a light sip of the red wine that had come with the meal and roll my eyes. ‘And how about how I feel? Doesn’t it matter?’
‘I have to guarantee your safety when you’re not with me, Mel. Our history is very well known.’
I fling a hank of my long hair behind my back and shiver slightly when his eyes track the movement. It’s nothing sexual, but the look in his eyes is the piercing stare of a predator after prey.
I have nothing to say to that. He’s right. There had been a time when he had meant we. When we had been so entwined with each other, there had been no space for anything else.
‘I know. I understand you need to track me. But it’s hard enough when I’m at Amory Corp and with Romero on my tail all day. Isn’t that enough?’
He takes my hand and jerks me towards him. ‘Nothing will be enough, Mel, when you’re my woman. Soon enough, you will be my wife, il mio raggio di sole.’
His sunshine. I blink, my eyes closed a second before his lips mesh with mine.
I know then I’m not heading home after dinner. I know I’m not over this man.
Same way, he isn’t nearly over me. It’s a funny moment to realize we’ve really not changed as much as we thought we had.
Because despite everything, despite my bravado, despite our past, I really want to be his sunshine again, breathing light and heat into the dark places of his heart.
His lips crash over mine, his tongue probing and hungry. I melt under his touch, my chest heaving. Xander pulls back and looks down. “Did you not wear a bra?” he growls.
I peek down and notice that my nipples are pretty much out. I tuck them back in, then flash him a defiant gaze. “No.”
“That dress has a slit on it,” he says, his eyes narrowing.
“It does.”
“A high one.”
“Yep.”
Finally, he puts two and two together. Xander abruptly steps close, and in one smooth gesture, lifts me over his shoulder. I squeak, desperately trying to keep my tits covered as he walks to the door.
One of his hands snakes up my skirt, and even though there could be witnesses, I feel his hands touch the skin between my legs.
“Fuck, Mel,” he mutters, his fingers pressing inside me. I moan at the invasion, but I’m already so wet, it doesn’t matter.
He pulls out abruptly, smacking my ass as the car comes into view. “You’re going to pay for this,” he growls.
It’s not a threat, though.
It’s a promise.
And I can’t wait for him to fulfill it.
He tosses me in the car, walking around the backseat. I scramble to get myself together, pulling at the dress so that it could cover my breasts, trying to tug the fabric over the slit in my dress.
Xander comes into the car, and holds my hands. “No,” he growls. “You put this on to tempt me.”
I nod. “I did.”
“Time to see what you wrought, then,” he rumbles.
The car starts, but Xander doesn’t move from where he’s perched. One of his hands tugs the top of my dress down, and the other travels up the inside of my thigh.
“Xander,” I breathe as he finds my slit.
He doesn’t respond.
Two thick fingers press inside me. His other hand clutches at my breast, pulling my nipple as he pumps his fingers in and out of my wet entrance.
Fuck.
If I don’t stop him, I’m going to come. I’m going to come much, much faster than I wanted to.
Xander knows. His eyes light up as he presses inside me. “Isn’t this what you wanted? To feel my fingers on you? To see what this dress would let me do?”
I don’t have a response for that. I’m so close, I just need…
Abruptly, Xander’s fingers pull back.
I glare at him. “Why did you stop?”
He leans forward, kissing me until I’m moaning under him again.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark. “You tortured me all night, Mel. Seems fair that I’d do the same to you.”
The words make me shiver.
Soon, we’re home and like a man possessed, he takes me by my lips the minute he ushers me down, kissing me all through the entrance.
His hand is all over me, pushing my dress to my waist, my hand desperate and hungry for the brand of his touch.
He lifts me into his arms and climbs up the stairs to his door. I don’t argue with the display of possessiveness.
I don’t think I want to be out of his arms ever again. Only Xander holds me this way, like he never wants to let me go.
By the time we make it to his room, I’m panting and gasping for breath, and when the door is shoved closed behind him, I know it’s the start of a long, long night. .
