The Sexy Enemy: A Fake Relationship Romance (Italian Nights Series Book 3)

9. Natalia

“You’re in love and married to Alessandro Conti?” Domingo squeals as I step onto the private plane for our trip to Paris. It takes everything in me to not roll my eyes. “How did you not tell me any of this? We just had lunch.” Then his eyes narrow. “Was he the man you were trying to make jealous at lunch?”

“Guilty,” I say, taking my seat beside him.

“You bitch. Urgh, Alessandro is so hot.” He sighs.

“He is, isn’t he?” I want to cringe with every fiber of my body, my stomach rolling at the words.

“I don’t understand how it happened. I thought you were seeing that footballer?”

“I was. I did that to hide the fact I was seeing Alessandro. Our families wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course, they wouldn’t, they hate each other. I still don’t know how you went from sneering looks at events to wedded bliss.” Domingo chuckles as his eyes narrow on me.

“Alcohol,” I joke—it’s not a lie. Domingo nods but I can tell he doesn’t seem to believe me. “Anyway, what’s the plan for today?” I ask, changing the subject.

“You think you can change the subject that easily? This is huge, babe. You got married to a very sexy enemy and now you want me to fill you in on what we are doing in Paris?” Dom asks, seemingly surprised by my lackluster enthusiasm about my new husband.

“What more do you want me to say? Alessandro is private, he isn’t into all this stuff,” I tell him, waving around the jet.

He frowns. “Please, that man was known around town as a party boy. He used to date models and attend all the best parties, he was a regular in the gossip magazines,” Dom says, reminding me of his past.

“And then his brother died.”

“You’re right,” he says quietly. I feel bad using that sadness to stop one of my friends from asking more about the situation, but I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say. I truly am out of my league here. “Okay, then, you have a photoshoot with Yvette Sanchez for her new collection today, and tonight is the launch party for the influencer launch. Tomorrow is the public launch of the collection online, and you will be doing a live display of some of her products for the launch before flying home.”

Dom doesn’t ask again about Alessandro.

The stressof today and the mountain of attention that the article has produced means I may have indulged in the champagne a little more than I should have, and I need Domingo’s help to stagger back to my bed.

“Here you go, princess, your room awaits.” Domingo giggles as we both stagger into my suite wrapped around each other.

“I love you, Dom. You’ve always been there for me, and I hate that I can’t tell you what’s going on,” I confess to him.

“I love you, too, babe,” he says, placing a tender kiss on my cheek. “And when the time is right, I’ll be here waiting for you.”

“Is that so?” a male voice states angrily in my room.

I scream as I blink furiously.

No.

He can’t be here in Paris, standing in my room looking like he is moments away from ripping Domingo off me.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

Alessandro’s eyes stop on Domingo before turning back on me. “I came to surprise my wife, yet it seems like I’m the one who is surprised,” he states, raising an arched brow at me.

Huh?

“It’s not what you think,” Domingo answers.

“Really? Because I just watched a man bring my wife back to her room, alone, with his arms around her, declaring his love while telling her he will wait for her. Am I wrong?” Alessandro asks.

Domingo and I look at each other, and I burst out laughing which promptly starts Domingo laughing as an angry Alessandro stares at the two of us like we have lost our minds.

“I’m going to leave you with all that,” Domingo says, waving his hand toward Alessandro, “while I browse Grindr for a hot Frenchie. I’ll see you in the morning.” He grins, placing a kiss on my cheek before turning toward Alessandro. “Congrats on the wedding,” he says before leaving the hotel room.

The door shuts, and the next thing I know, my legs are propelling me toward Alessandro as my anger bubbles through my veins. “What the hell are you doing here? How dare you come into my room without my permission. How did you get in here? I don’t appreciate you rocking on up and interrupting my business trip,” I scream at him as I repeatedly poke him in the chest, delivering a sense of déjà vu to me.

“You mean interrupting your hook-up,” he snarls back, raking his hand through his hair as he glares at me.

“Hook-up? Who the hell am I hooking up with?” I yell, poking him.

“Stop fucking poking me. Why do you always have to poke me,” he grumbles.

“Because you aren’t listening to me,” I say. “Poke, poke, fucking poke.” I push my finger harder into his chest.

Those green eyes flare as his hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist, and the next thing I know, he’s flipping me. I scream as my back hits the soft duvet of my bed, and I bounce against him before my body settles into the mattress. Alessandro looms over me with his hands on either side of my head. The room is spinning, and I am hoping it is from too many glasses of champagne and not from him.

“What the hell,” I scream as my hand pushes at the wall of muscle above me.

“I said stop fucking poking me.” He sneers through gritted teeth.

“Get off me,” I yell, slapping at his chest.

“No,” he says, glaring at me. “Not until you tell me who that man was.”

I still.

“You seriously think I’m hooking up with Dom?” I say, bursting out laughing.

Alessandro frowns. “I don’t give a shit what his name is, but I don’t appreciate my wife bringing men back to her suite.”

“Wife? Please, I’m hardly your wife.” I sneer, pushing against him again, but he doesn’t budge.

“That’s not what you told the fucking world,” he says, looking down at me angrily.

“And I warned you what would happen if you didn’t sign the papers.” I smirk. Those slate-green eyes narrow on me, and for the tiniest of moments, they move from my eyes to my lips and back again. A tingle slides over my body and I hate that my body is reacting to him. “Get off me,” I yell at him, pushing the thunderous beat of my heart in my chest from my mind.

“No,” he says, steely.

I do the one thing that annoys him the most and I start to poke him in the chest.

Poke. Poke. Poke.

“Urgh, you’re so fucking annoying.” He growls, and the next thing I know he grabs my wrists and holds them above my head. His legs are wrapped around mine so I can’t knee him in the balls, but all my body can feel is his heaviness against it, my body is alive and on fire. I wiggle against his restraint, but he’s too strong.

“Who is he?” he demands.

“Who?” I ask, confused by his question.

“The guy you brought home,” he asks, anger lacing his words.

“Dom?”

“Yes,” he answers through gritted teeth.

Then a smile forms across my lips. “Are you jealous?” I question him.

He scoffs at me. “You wish.”

“You wish,” I say, throwing back his words at him.

“You’re fucking frustrating,” he grits.

“So I’ve been told.” I smirk.

“Did you fuck him?” he asks, and I can hear the anger and accusation in his voice.

“I don’t owe you an answer.”

“Yes, you do, you’re my fucking wife,” he argues.

“Did you fuck your assistant after I left?” I bite back, the words are out of my mouth before I even have a chance to stop them.

Alessandro stills, those slate-green eyes stare down at me. “What would you do if I said yes?”

I hate the sinking feeling in my stomach. “Nothing, because I wouldn’t care.”

He raises a brow. “You wouldn’t care that she got on her knees and wrapped her pouty mouth around my thick cock and took me all the way down her throat.”

My hands ball as I listen to his words. “No, why would I?”

We stare at each other for a long time until he speaks again, “I’ll let her know on Monday that all the dirty things she’s been wanting to do to me can finally happen, my wife has given us her blessing.” He grins.

“Guess you have to do what you have to do.”

“Guess I will.”

We glare at each other until my eyes fall to his lips for the first time and I notice the crack against it. “What happened to your lip?”

The question seems so left-field for Alessandro that it takes a couple of moments for him to register what I’ve asked. He lets go of one of my wrists and touches his lip as if trying to remind himself what happened.

“Oh, that, my father didn’t take the news of our marriage very well,” he states.

My hand moves on its own accord as my fingers touch the crackled skin. “Your father did this?” I run my finger over the cut. He doesn’t answer me, and the heaviness of the situation hangs between us. “I’m sorry.” The words are soft as they fall from my lips.

“I don’t need your pity, Natalia.” He stiffens.

“Wasn’t giving you my pity,” I tell him as I run my finger across his skin, taking in the now noticeable bruising across his cheek. He lets my fingers explore the discolored surface. “Does that happen a lot?” I question him.

“What, my father’s fists or getting married to my family’s enemy in Vegas?” I roll my eyes at his joke. It’s obviously an uncomfortable conversation, especially with me, the reason for his bruises. I lean forward and place a kiss on the cut, I feel Alessandro still above me. “Don’t,” he warns me. I move and press another kiss to his cheek where the bruising is.

Next thing I know, Alessandro has his hand around my throat which pulls a squeal from my lips.

“Don’t do that,” he says through gritted teeth as he stares down at me with a deep scowl across his face.

“Don’t do what?” I ask, confused by his reaction.

“Care,” he snips, which stills me.