by Kit Tunstall
Luca took her arm to lead her into the foyer, through to the salon, where Salvatore sat in the center of his court. She rolled her eyes at the way the old man sat in his wheelchair, as though it were a throne. It would be nice to crown him, she thought with a slight giggle. Thankfully, the cacophony of voices in the throng covered the sound before her companion heard.
On his arm, Phoebe endured the next hour, meeting countless new people whose names she forgot as soon as they moved to the next group. Her stomach clenched when they finally made it near Salvatore, surrounded by several people. She schooled her face into an expressionless mask, though her nerves threatened to make her throw up all over the man’s lap.
He greeted Luca with an incline of his head and didn’t spare a glance for her, to her relief. She pasted on a polite smile, the same one she’d used all evening, as Luca began introducing her to the others surrounding his father. Her attention sharpened when he introduced Signor Capro Giovanni. He was a short, stout man, with dark eyes full of kindness and a gleaming bald head.
He kissed her hand, to her embarrassment. “Miss Sanders, I feel like I already know you.”
She smiled. “I know what you mean, since we’ve spoken so often.”
The next introduction was to Signora Gemma Giovanni, a tall, thin woman, probably a decade younger than her husband. Her glossy black hair, streaked liberally with gray, was scraped back in a severe bun. She curled her lip and nodded in Phoebe’s direction.
The last introduction caught her attention—mainly because of the way the woman was staring at Luca, as though she wanted to devour him. Caprice Giovanni was stunning, with a golden-brown complexion, dark eyes and black hair just as thick and glossy as her mother’s. Like Phoebe, she wore a red dress, but the similarities ended with color. Hers was short and tight, displaying a generous amount of her full bosom and a long expanse of leg. The other woman looked right through her, ignoring the introduction.
Phoebe made small talk with Signor Giovanni for several minutes, finding he was as warm and pleasant in person as he had always been on the phone and through email. His wife remained at his side without speaking, her gaze wandering around the assemblage, as though looking for something more interesting. Or someone.
With a start, Phoebe realized Luca no longer stood beside her. Caprice was absent too. She cast her gaze around the room, looking for him. From the corner of her eye, she saw Signora Giovanni leading Signor Giovanni across the room, toward the governor. Her heart hammered in her ears when she found herself alone with Salvatore. She steeled herself for a continuation of hostilities.
To her surprise, he waved over a waiter. “Would you like a drink? I imagine you have never tasted Cristal Champagne before.”
Her lips tightened at the veiled reference to her supposedly impoverished upbringing, but she didn’t retort. In the interest of maintaining peace, she accepted a glass, murmuring her thanks. The beverage was crisp and definitely the finest champagne she’d ever tasted, though she wouldn’t admit that to him.
“Tell me, Miss Sanders, what do you think of my crystal chandelier? I had it designed specifically to my tastes and imported from Rome.”
With a frown, her gaze followed where he pointed. The chandelier was exquisite and she opened her mouth to tell him so. Instead, her mouth dropped slightly when she saw Luca on the second-floor balcony, standing close to Caprice. “It’s lovely,” she said mechanically, unable to tear her gaze from the sight of Caprice curving an arm through Luca’s to bring him nearer.
“Speaking of lovely, they make a lovely couple, don’t you think?”
The fine champagne had soured in her mouth and she set the glass on a passing tray. There was no point in pretending like she didn’t know to whom he referred. She shrugged.
“Caprice is a lovely girl, with exquisite breeding. An undeniable asset to Luca.”
Phoebe made a noncommittal sound while searching the room for a gracious exit.
“As his wife, she will see to all his needs.” The old man laughed, a cold sound that sent shivers down her spine. “A woman like you would no doubt jump at the chance to remain his mistress, but he will no longer want you after they are married.”
Her head spun. “Married?” she whispered.
Salvatore nodded, his expression one of smug satisfaction. “It is a key component of the merger. I see Luca failed to mention that.” He laughed.
“Excuse me,” she said through clenched teeth, turning from Salvatore and rushing blindly through the crowd. Her goal was the exit, but she collided with a solid body before she could reach it. She recognized the frame before seeing Luca’s face when she looked up.
“Phoebe? Are you okay?”
She pulled away from his solicitous hold. “Fine, but I’d like to leave now.”
He frowned. “I saw you alone with my father. I came to rescue you, but I see I didn’t make it in time. Did he say something to upset you?”
“Yes.” Upset was an understatement. She was wounded to the core, though it was ridiculous to feel that way. Their relationship was little more than anger and sex. He owed her nothing.
Luca’s mouth tightened. “I’ll speak to him.”
She put a hand on his arm. “No. Just let me leave.” The party, your apartment and you.
After a hesitation, he nodded, moving to walk beside her.
“You don’t have to leave with me. I’d hate to tear you away from anything.”
“It’s fine.” He put his arm around her waist, looking annoyed when she didn’t soften her posture to curve against him. “I’ve been imagining stripping that dress off you for the past hour.”
She made a scoffing sound, but didn’t challenge the statement. Instead, she focused on getting through the ride home, maintaining a cool silence. Once they were inside his apartment, she braced herself to withstand his seduction. She might have to sleep with him, but she didn’t have to enjoy it. How could she, knowing he was engaged to another woman?
The wedding must have been planned for months, since the merger was almost a year in the making. Before she’d taken Salvatore’s payoff, Luca had been interested in her. He would have let their affair proceed to the next level, knowing he was going to marry another woman.
As she marched toward the bedroom, determined to strip off the dress herself, he kept pace. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
Luca ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. “Whatever my father said, you shouldn’t let it get to you.”
She whirled around to face him. “Even if it’s the truth?”
He frowned. “I don’t know what he said, but I can imagine. If you’re embarrassed about your background—”
Rolling her eyes, she turned away, proceeding to the bedroom. “I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done, or of my past. My parents were comfortably middle class, not the poverty-stricken trash your father implies.” Her shoulders sagged as the surge of anger faded, leaving her on the verge of tears. Not prone to crying, the constantly raw emotions provoking the reaction were distressing.
“If that’s not it, then what did he say?”
She looked at him, hoping her expression was impassive. “He told me all about Caprice.”
Luca arched a brow. “What about her?”
“That she’s about to be your wife.” To her surprise, he laughed. “I’m glad you find it so amusing. You’re a hypocrite, Luca. The entire time I’ve worked for you, there was never any mention of an engagement, even when we were about to…well, before the situation with Salvatore occurred.”
With a shake of his head, he approached her, cupping her upper arms. “I’m not marrying her. The wedding is an idea her mother and my father came up with to strengthen the merger. Caprice is perfectly willing, but I am not.”
A flutter of hope flickered through her. “But you’ve worked so hard to complete the merger. You can’t just let it go.”
He shrugged. “I would in a second, if it meant marrying som
eone I didn’t love. Thankfully, Capro finds the idea amusing, but nothing else. He has said he’d like me for a son-in-law, but would prefer Caprice marry for love, not business.”
She sagged forward, into his arms. “I see.”
“Do you?” he asked, sounding cryptic. At her frown, he nudged the corner of her mouth with his thumb, encouraging her to smile. “Did my father say anything else to upset you?”
She shook her head, unresisting when he lowered his mouth to hers. Phoebe closed her eyes, letting the kiss consume her. Luca’s fingers were nimble, and he managed to unzip the dress without breaking the kiss. It fell to the floor with a whisper, leaving her in panties and the garter with the stockings.
“You are more exquisite without the gown,” he said, lifting his head. “Your breasts are perfect just like this.” He cupped and lifted them together, lowering his head to lave her nipples with long strokes of his tongue. She arched her back and tangled a hand in his hair to bring him closer. Ripples of pleasure spread through her as he sucked on the taut nipples, alternating his attention between both. A moan of protest escaped her when he lifted his head.
“Delicious.” Luca licked his lips exaggeratedly. “I want to taste you here.” He cupped her pussy in his hand, squeezing gently to create friction that made her writhe. With gentle prodding, he urged her to the bed, only releasing her when she sat down.
“You’re wearing too many clothes,” she said in a thick voice, reaching up to push off the dark suit jacket. He helped by shrugging it off, and she set her attention to unfastening the small buttons on his shirt. Her hands shook with need, and she grasped the lapels, preparing to rip open the shirt to get to him.
With a chuckle, he put his hand over hers. “Let me, mia tesoro. I am particularly fond of this shirt.”
She let her hands fall to her sides, watching him strip off the shirt. As he unbuckled his belt, she bent forward to remove her shoes.
“No.” His hand settled on the back of her head. “Leave them on.”
Phoebe let her hand fall back to the bed and straightened. Luca pushed her gently to her back, parting her thighs. She drew in a ragged breath when he unfastened the clasps of the garter to remove her panties, rubbing his thumb down her slit. She rested her feet on the bed, letting the heels sink into the mattress to provide support.
Luca lowered his head to lick her, and she arched her hips, lifting her lower body off the bed to meet him. His tongue was hot as it probed her secret places, making her pussy cream. She thrust her hips as he sucked her clit until she was crying out with pleasure. Hands gripping the bed covers, she let herself come.
Lifting his head, he grinned. “Your pussy is so soft, with such fine hair.” He traced a finger down her. “I could spend days between your legs.”
She shook her head. “You would find that unsatisfying.” He got to his feet, and she locked her legs around his thighs. “Your cock is so hard. Waiting days would give you the bluest balls.”
He laughed, but the sound cut off abruptly when she loosened her grip to bring up her feet. “Stand up.”
To her surprise, he extended a hand to help her to her feet. She took it, puzzled. Seconds later, his intent was clear. Phoebe gripped the post of the bed, bending forward slightly to elevate her buttocks. Luca left briefly to deal with protection. When he returned, he stood behind her, his cock pressing against her opening.
The bedpost provided necessary support as her knees trembled when he surged deep inside her. “Luca,” she whispered. The heels and position opened her more fully to his possession, and he stretched her to the limit. Each thrust hit exactly the right spots to heighten her arousal.
He cupped her breasts, circling his thumbs around her nipples. “So good.” His voice sounded strained, probably from the effort not to climax.
Phoebe was struggling not to orgasm just yet. The feel of his cock moving in and out of her at that angle was so pleasurable that she wanted it to last forever. That would be a divine way to spend the rest of her life—with Luca inside her, but she would be content to just be with him.
She tensed at the thought, admonishing herself not to be thinking about a future that couldn’t happen. He didn’t love her and never could. It was critical to keep her heart protected.
“Do that again.” He groaned. “Tighten your muscles.”
The first time had been in reaction to her thoughts, but this time, Phoebe concentrated on squeezing his cock. Tensing and relaxing her muscles caused convulsions in her womb, and her orgasm was close. When Luca’s cock throbbed inside her, and she felt the warmth of his release through the condom, it triggered her own.
She came so forcefully she couldn’t stay upright. With a cry, she sagged forward, thankful for Luca’s hands on her hips holding her up. In the haze of aftermath, she slid forward to lie on the bed, her face against the comforter. Her knees were on the edge of the bed and her ass was still angled up. A startled gasp escaped her when Luca penetrated her again. “You aren’t supposed to be able to do that.” A giggle escaped her when she realized she had sounded disgruntled.
“I have incredible stamina,” said Luca, his tone slightly mocking, as he grasped her hips to drive himself in and out of her. “At least with you, mia tesoro.”
Limp with pleasurable exhaustion, Phoebe was certain she couldn’t come again, but Luca coaxed another orgasm from her before he ejaculated. She was too tired to move or protest when he lifted her off the bed and carried her through to the bathroom. He took her into the shower, where he washed both of them carefully. Tears burned the back of her eyes at his gentleness, but she blinked them back. It was only her tiredness causing the maudlin reaction. Her emotions were firmly in check, she told herself, and almost believed it.
Chapter Five
That night seemed to have cemented an unspoken truce between them. With surprising ease, they settled into a routine. Luca was an early riser and he never failed to have coffee and breakfast waiting for her. They spent their days in the office, their nights in bed, and other times participating in normal activities that couples pursued—socializing with friends, taking weekend trips, shopping and dining out.
A month passed before she knew it. The realization hit her when she was looking at the appointment calendar for the day. It had been exactly thirty days since Luca had come to her apartment that first night. With a frown, she counted backward, discovering it had also been at least a week since she’d called Anya. During that conversation, she had finally confessed to living with Luca, but hadn’t shared the rest of the story with her sister.
Feeling selfish, Phoebe reached for the phone on her desk and rang her sister’s room. After four rings, the phone clicked and rang once more. A pleasant, restrained voice answered. That it wasn’t Anya caught her off-guard. “Uh, hello. I’m trying to reach Anya Sanders.”
“Hold please.”
Muzak issued from the phone and she winced at the volume. Impatiently, Phoebe drummed her fingernails on the desk. If she had called while Anya was in treatment, her voicemail should have answered.
Finally, after what seemed like an interminable wait, the Muzak faded, and a deep male voice answered. “This is Dr. Sarat.”
She remembered the clinical director, a short man with dark skin and the voice that was so incongruous with his size. “Hello, Dr. Sarat. This is Phoebe Sanders. I’m trying to get hold of my sister, Anya.”
“She checked out of the clinic about four days ago.”
Her stomach clenched. “What?” She must have misheard him.
Dr. Sarat sighed heavily in her ear. “After testing and several treatments, there was no improvement. We determined your sister wasn’t a good candidate for the clinical trial and she chose to leave early.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t believe it. She met all the criteria.”
“That is true, but she didn’t respond to treatment. It was pointless to continue disrupting her life with treatments that weren’t going to work.”
“I
see.” Feeling numb, she ended the phone call abruptly, dropping the phone back into the receiver. Unable to believe what he’d told her, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk to retrieve her cell phone. She must have missed a call from her sister.
The call log showed no calls from Anya, so she dialed her cell number. Anya’s cheery greeting came on without a ring, indicating the phone was turned off. “Call me as soon as you get this, kiddo.”
After hanging up, Phoebe sat back, staring hard at her phone, as if willing it to ring. Why hadn’t Anya called? Why wasn’t she picking up her cell phone? Fear filled her and she gathered up her things. Something must be wrong. She had to find her sister.
The office phone rang as she was getting up. She snatched it up, rattling off the firm’s name. Her heart sank when it wasn’t Anya.
“May I speak with Signor Androtti, please?” asked a melodic feminine voice.
Torn between her job and her fear for Anya, Phoebe finally said, “He’s unavailable right now.” She didn’t offer to take a message.
That didn’t deter the caller. “Very well. Please tell the signor that the engagement ring he ordered has been resized and is ready for pickup at Laurant’s.”
“I’ll tell him.” On autopilot, she hung up the phone and reached for the message pad. Her hands shook when she wrote down the information, and she practically sprinted from the office. Phoebe didn’t stop running until she was in the elevator, where she leaned against the wall of the cab and took several deep breaths to keep from crying.
He had lied to her. Luca had passed off the marriage with Caprice as nothing more than a silly idea of their parents. All along, he’d known he was going to marry her. Her stomach clenched and she bent forward, ignoring the concerned inquiry of her health from one of her fellow passengers.
