Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
S ERENA STUDIED THE grainy picture in the video. She listened to the local gossip content creator make wild suppositions about what had happened between two rivals last night at Cattiva Idea. Serena appreciated that the photographer had made sure to circulate a picture from an angle that hid the fact Luciano had his arm around another woman, just as Serena had paid her to do.
If Serena managed to get Luciano to agree to this plan, she had no expectations he’d be faithful to a fake marriage. But she wanted it to look—for the first year at least—as if there had been something of a fairy-tale element, a romance to their union. Something to get people talking about Valli and Ascione. To get their name out there and interest in both the companies up.
At least while she sorted out all their business problems.
I am Mr. Emidio…
Could he really be that ridiculous to pose as his own man of affairs? Could he actually be that…devious? Yes, of course. Could he be that knowledgeable of Ascione? This she had a harder time believing.
She drummed her fingers against her desk, looking back at the picture that made it look as though Luciano Ascione was giving her a great deal of attention in his very own club. Only she could tell that the smile he’d angled her way was full of venom.
She supposed they all played their roles. Maybe he’d been playing the role of flaky playboy while being anything but.
Except he was most definitely a playboy. There was no faking the array of models, actresses, influencers and the like that he always had on his arm.
This was her biggest battle, besides Luciano agreeing to marry her. While, with enough work, she could look elegant enough, whatever beauty she could create was not over the top. She was all-around average. She could not compete with his usual fare.
She had considered the shared grief angle. It had some positives, and it was believable. Grief made people do all sorts of things. But…and Serena knew this was pride over sense talking, she did not want to spend the next few years pretending losing her father was some great loss. She wasn’t sure Luciano could pretend that losing his was.
So she had to play up the star-crossed lovers angle. Make everyone believe that for years they had been kept apart by their evil fathers. That their union was preceded by years of denial. Not sudden and out of the blue.
“Ms. Valli?”
Serena looked up from her phone to where her assistant stood in the doorway. She beckoned her inside. “Andrea. Is Mr. Ascione here?”
“I’m afraid not. He’s…changed plans.”
Serena didn’t sneer or growl like she wanted to. She waited patiently for Andrea to continue, a placid smile on her face.
While inside, she pictured herself putting her hands around Luciano Ascione’s neck and squeezing as hard as she could.
“He has sent a car. It will take you to Le Marin, where Mr. Ascione is waiting for your appointment.”
Underneath her desk, Serena balled her hands into fists, letting her nails dig into her palms. She kept her voice pleasant. “How kind of him to think of having a meal together. You may tell his driver I will be down momentarily.”
Andrea looked at her speculatively but nodded and disappeared. Serena jerked out of her chair and allowed herself approximately one minute of pacing and muttering curses before she went to her office bathroom, touched up her makeup and did her deep breathing exercises.
She hated a change of venue, hated petty games of control, but if she wanted her staff to believe in this marriage as much as she wanted the public to, the acting had to start now. She had to move forward with every step, believing that she would get him to agree with her plan.
And she would be in control.
She tried to come up with a simple excuse for driving herself, but in the end it just seemed the easiest and less suspicious thing to take the ride offered by Luciano.
She told Andrea that her meeting with Luciano was most important and that she was not to be interrupted, then left her father’s—no, her —office building and slid into the car waiting for her.
The drive would not take long, so Serena did not get out her phone or try to do business. She closed her eyes and went over her mantra.
I am strong. I am sure. I am in charge .
The car pulled to a stop at a private entrance in the back of Le Marin, where a staff member, if the crisp black suit was anything to go by, waited.
Even with this backdoor entrance, people would see her. See them. She did not care for the fact they would have an audience of businesspeople and socialites. People who knew them or of them. People who would talk . She did not trust that this was a move made in her best interest.
Or maybe those were the excuses she made for herself so she didn’t have to admit she was just mad he’d changed the venue on her, because she’d had a battle plan drawn for a meeting on her turf, in her office.
And now, she had to adjust.
“You will sway it your own way if need be,” she reminded herself. Just as she’d done with the club. She was good on her feet when the situation demanded it.
Now it did.
She got out of the car, was greeted by the staff member, then led through a small, narrow hallway and into a room with a beautiful view of the marina. Not everyone’s version of beauty, she knew, but symbolic. Because Ascione and Valli boats, shipping containers and the like were all out there.
And in front of the window was Luciano himself. Dressed on the side of casual that normally she would have criticized, but he somehow made it look sophisticated and regal, even without a suit jacket or tie.
He made a striking picture there, with such a background, and his own undeniable beauty. What a shame he should be such a cad.
He stood as she approached. She held out her hand as she would in any business meeting. “Mr. Ascione.”
“Serena,” he greeted, taking her hand, and then instead of shaking it, turning it to be brought to his mouth. He brushed a kiss over her knuckles, his gaze meeting hers as he did so.
The use of her name, and his mouth, was unwelcome. That was all the strange pressure in her chest was. Irritation and frustration with the situation. Even if that had never made her feel breathless and overwarm, like her heart had decided to run a marathon there in her chest.
“I have gotten us a private table, so we may talk without worry of being overheard,” he said, gesturing at it now as he dropped her hand. “Please. Sit.”
Serena did not allow herself to move stiffly to the table, even though that is what she felt. She did not allow herself to wipe her hand on her skirt, even though it felt as though that would be the only way to rid the strange warmth from her palm.
She all but had to pry her other hand off her purse once seated, but she did not allow him to read anything uncomfortable in her demeanor.
He might have chosen the venue, but she would remain relaxed and in control. At least on the outside.
A waiter appeared, presenting a bottle of wine. When Luciano approved, he began to pour.
Serena put her hand in front of her glass. “None for me. I will stick with water. Thank you.”
“Leave the bottle,” Luciano told the waiter, who nodded, then melted away. “Come, cara . We might be celebrating by the end of this conversation.”
She smiled sweetly at him but spoke between her teeth. “And we might end up tossing the wine at each other.”
His mouth quirked at one side, and something in her chest seemed to mimic the movement. A quick, upturned flutter.
“I would almost like to see it, Serena,” he said, his gaze moving over her face. “The ice princess losing her temper.”
She held his gaze, but something was tying itself in knots in her stomach. Because losing her temper was never an issue, never much of a challenge. She was excellent at control, but the man across from her was the only man who ever tested that.
She hated that it was him , but what could be done? She could not control her insides, but she could control her outsides. Even when it was hard. To lose sight of her control now would destroy everything.
She refused to be destroyed. By a foolish car accident or a supposedly charming rival. “I hope you shall hold your breath,” she offered. Because sparring with him was not a loss of control, it was a gaining of it. It was a duel. A business negotiation. The careful, planned steps of a fencing match.
Luciano sipped his wine, unbothered, leaning back in his chair so that he was perfectly framed by the beautiful lake outside the windows. If someone had taken his picture, it could have been an advertisement for any number of things, and women would sigh over that lazy smile.
She hated that her traitorous insides wanted to do just that. Because if she allowed herself to divorce his personality from the external look of him, she would have some serious problems with focus.
Luckily, she knew exactly who he was.
A waiter reappeared with the primi . He set a dish down in front of both of them, then disappeared again. Luciano made a big production out of discussing the weather, and Serena was well versed in stalling business tactics, so she played along.
Mainly because she didn’t think he expected her to.
When the secondi was served, he moved the conversation along to her home. She tried not to stiffen, but it was impossible. She did not want his take on the place that meant so much to her. On the place he never should have been. Part of how she’d gotten by was to develop that inner world, that sanctuary, and keep everyone else out. So that it was safe there.
He’d invaded her safety. Gotten a peek under the curtain, so to speak. She had spent the day telling herself it didn’t really matter. So he knew she wore glasses and had cats? Maybe it gave him glimpses into private things, but it didn’t change anything.
But she could tell he understood that it bothered her far more than she wanted it to.
Still, to show her discomfort was to lose, so she sipped her water carefully as he spoke.
“So…unique,” he said, almost thoughtfully. “And your sitting room. Quite colorful, when you are, if you’ll forgive me for saying so, rarely that.”
“I do not wish to be colorful,” Serena replied, trying to keep the bite out of her tone. “This does not mean I do not enjoy color.”
He made a considering noise. She had no doubt he would draw this out. Make her wait for his answer. So she enjoyed her food. A delicious tortelli and ratatuia . She had never had a dessert quite like the one served next, so she savored it, only half listening to Luciano prattle on about his club.
If it was to be like this, she could handle a potential marriage. She could pretend to listen to him chattering on while she enjoyed a meal. She could be photographed on occasion with his hand in hers. All of this, she was sure she could handle.
But him being in her space last night had introduced a new doubt, and Serena hated doubts. She hated to address them. But the way it had felt to have him in her space, seeing who she was underneath her mask. Having to deal with the unique physical reaction she had to him—one she did not want to parse, but might have to. Because a fake marriage would require, at least on occasion, living together.
Maybe once they’d gotten some of the old clients back, once there were enough stories about them to have everyone taking a meeting with Valli, they could move to a marriage that didn’t need to look… real .
But she had to get there first. Which required this dinner, his agreement and a merger of lives and businesses. It required managing the strange sensations he brought out in her, that tangled with the more familiar and perhaps more welcome irritation.
Valli-Ascione, she reminded herself, unable to stop a frown. The merger was the best thing, she knew, but she hadn’t fully swallowed how much credit she was going to have to give the man across from her.
After all the work she’d done, after all the perfection she’d achieved—first to gain her father’s trust, then to clean up the mess he’d left her—and for the rest of their lives, no doubt, Luciano would get more credit for saving their companies than she would. Because this was still a man’s world, no matter how much better she was at it.
She reminded herself she didn’t need credit. Never had. As long as she knew she was the mastermind behind this. As long as she knew she’d saved Valli, like her father couldn’t. As long as she was perfection to all her father’s imperfection. That was what mattered.
When the waiter put a caffe in front of her, she smiled up at him in thanks. How many more minutes would this go on? Usually, her patience was endless, but the mere existence of Luciano reminded her that there were variables in this whole plan that she would not be able to control.
Mainly him.
She flicked a glance at Luciano who was watching her with surprisingly shrewd dark eyes, like he could see through her. When no one did.
Her chest felt oddly tight. The idea of being seen settled in her in tangled ways. Because she did not want him to see her, but she missed the easy understanding her grandfather had once given her. So it was both uncomfortable and wistful.
She was glad when he leaned carefully forward, made no attempt to hide the shrewdness in his gaze. He did not signal a change in conversation in any other way. But she knew they would now discuss what she’d actually come here for.
“I am still not wholly convinced that you came to this information on your own,” he said, more idly than accusatory.
She sighed, but before she could say anything, he held up a hand.
“However, whether you have a spy, or are as brilliant as you claim, the result is the same. Our companies are failing.”
“Thanks to our fathers.”
“Indeed. And I have no long-lost love for mine, may he rot in hell along with the rest of the Asciones, but I will not let his failure stain my reputation.”
She was surprised at the fervent note in his voice. Like he cared. About his reputation, though she was quite sure he didn’t. About Ascione, though she hadn’t been sure there was any loyalty there considering he’d had very little to do with it all these years.
But she’d banked on the probability that somewhere deep down, all the talk of legacies she’d grown up with would have been instilled in him as well.
“You’ll marry me then.” She managed to sound calm, but inside she was a nervous wreck. Inside, she was praying he said yes. And somehow dreading that yes at the same time. It was what she knew needed to happen, but it was not what she wanted .
And that really was the story of her life, so she couldn’t fathom why it unsettled her as much as it did.
“Marry you? I thought you were brilliant, cara . Why would I have met you in public, for many to see, if not to plant the romantic seeds of our engagement?”
She could not stop herself from pulling a face at the word romantic .
Luciano chuckled. “You will need to work on your acting skills.”
“Indeed.” She cleared her throat. “But, if you did not notice the papers this morning, I have already planted my own seeds.”
He did not frown exactly, but she could tell he had not gotten wind of the stories yet. She pulled her phone out of her purse and brought up one of the gossip channels that had the picture she’d arranged. Then she slid the phone across the table to him.
He picked it up. “Look at you, Serena,” he murmured, studying the picture. He handed her phone back, then smiled, his gaze sharp and on her.
A flutter centered in her chest. Like nerves, but warmer. She felt…compelled to hold his gaze, even as something shifted low in her stomach. She didn’t understand it.
Or like it.
Because as much as she’d like to pretend it was some kind of victorious feeling from having him agree to her plan, she knew it had nothing to do with agreement, and everything to do with that smile and his eyes on hers.
He lifted his glass of wine. “Then I suppose we have a deal. Let the games begin, compagna. ”
Partner.
She thought about how he’d said his father should be rotting in hell and hoped for a brief moment her father was doing the same for leaving her to deal with this .
* * *
They had agreed their first public appearance would be the dinner party put on by one of the CEOs of the major American conglomerate that had been swooping in and stealing their clients away.
As Luciano prepared himself for the dinner, he thought back to their parting shots to one another at lunch.
“I should like to see you in a color. Perhaps a hint of skin,” he had said, to see if he could watch closely enough for her mask to slip.
It hadn’t.
“I cannot fathom why you would care at all what I wear,” she had replied as they’d walked back to his car.
“There should be some sense that we are rubbing off on one another, should there not?”
“Then what will you do?” she’d asked, sounding sincere. She’d delivered the blow with that same tone. “Learn to read?”
He had been torn between shocked affront and a laugh. She was indeed a worthy adversary. Except, no longer an enemy. Now, they were partners.
He wondered how long it would last before one of them would plan a betrayal.
Not until both companies were back on even footing. Serena would not risk Valli, and while he wasn’t quite so taken with Ascione, he wanted none of his father’s failures associated with his own name.
Because I am better.
So for a few months yet, they would have to be full-on partners. No behind doors backstabbing just yet.
What a shame.
In the days between their lunch and the dinner, he sent her flowers to her office. An outrageously large and overly bright combination that he knew would embarrass her.
And that would be the talk of the Valli offices.
It amused him to imagine it. Just as it amused him to recall their lunch. And the different Serena’s he’d come across in such a short time, after only ever seeing the perfect ice princess for so long.
But it was clear, she was not perfect. There was a strange hidden woman underneath the surface. There was something sharper there too, that he brought out when he irritated her enough. It poked at something deep within him, something he hadn’t figured out quite how to articulate to himself. So he kept poking, waiting for clarity.
He could not recall a time he’d ever been so fascinated to see what made a woman tick, but then again, when women shared his company, they generally wanted to, with little reason to hide themselves away.
It was a marvel, and while the idea of being connected to her in any way, especially beyond business, was of course an atrocity, he was certain her plan would work.
She was that good at embodying a lie. How else had he spent all this time thinking her perfect, only to find her in thick-lensed glasses and octogenarian shawls surrounded by cats ?
So when his driver stopped in front of Serena’s home, Luciano did not hold on to any worries. The dinner party would be beyond mundane, and pretending to care about Serena’s needs would be an odd experience, but he had no doubts they’d be successful.
He stepped out and studied the castle—it could only be called a castle—in the falling light of dusk. It was not elegant. There was no sense that this was an abode of luxury, though the inside was luxurious . But the outside gave more the aura of centuries long gone, when life was weary, bloody battle after weary, bloody battle.
This was a battle—though hopefully not bloody—so maybe the mood of it fit. He strode up the heavy set of concrete stairs that wound around, not romantically, but practically, and up to the main doors. He noticed what he could not have last night in the dark. There were hints of color here and there. A pot the color of the sea full to brimming with red and orange blooms to one side. A colorful stained glass trinket hanging from a hook that tinkled in the breeze along with the sounds of waves in the distance. A full awning of weeping wisteria shaded the entry.
He knew now that these were all glimpses into the real Serena, and he wondered…would he catch a glimpse of her now? That owlish little creature trying to pretend to be a lioness.
No, she’d be ready this time. He had no doubt. And he had the oddest sense of disappointment at that.
The door opened before he’d even stepped forward, and the man who’d argued with him that Serena was not to be seen the last time he’d been here answered.
His expression was grave. His eyes were wary. He gestured Luciano inside.
Luciano smiled charmingly at him when he said nothing. “Buonasera.”
“Ms. Valli will be down momentarily, Mr. Ascione. You may wait here.”
Luciano looked around the entry way. It was grand, indeed, but hardly the place to sit and wait. Luciano doubted very much that the typical visitor was asked to stand in the bright white room and wait .
But before he could suggest that, Serena appeared. She was walking at a quick clip, checking the contents of her purse as her high heels clicked against the stone foyer floors.
There was no denying Serena was beautiful. Even in her ridiculous pajamas and alarmingly large glasses the other night, one could not deny that there was something within her that glowed, that enticed.
The business version of Serena was always sleek, elegant and…demure, he supposed, was the best descriptor.
But there was something…altogether different this evening.
She wore color. A vibrant, gleaming green. She…sparkled. He didn’t think that would have caught him off guard all on its own. He was used to glittering, brightly dressed women. It was the brevity of that skirt, and the surprisingly long, lean legs now viewable because of it, made all the longer by the gold heels she wore.
Worse than the surprise was the awkwardly potent bolt of lust that fisted inside him. Unexpected and unwanted. Because lust was usually quite welcome, easily dealt with. He did not find himself attracted to women he had no intention of having.
And there was certainly no appeal to having Serena Valli.
She looked up absently. “Buonasera,” she offered, but her gaze was moving to her butler. “Pierro, you’ll make certain Kate gets her medicine with her food this evening?”
“Of course.”
She nodded, as if that settled that, and Pierro drifted out of the room with one last disapproving look in Luciano’s direction.
Luciano would have asked her who the hell Kate was, but her hair was pulled up, and wisps sprang free in lazy curls. Her hazel eyes were painted dark, which somehow brought out the flecks of green and gold in them. Her lips were bright, which showed off just how full they were.
It wasn’t that she looked any different than she usually did in the grand scheme of things, particularly considering the neckline of the dress was high, the sleeves long. It was just that she was portraying herself in a style that made her look like anyone he might have on his arm.
It twisted some signals inside of his brain. Because he could admit she was attractive, but he could not admit he was attracted to her. She’d put on a costume of sorts, but he could not allow it to trick him.
She was a snake.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, cocking her head slightly, making the gold earrings dangling from her ears catch the light and refract it.
“Of course,” he said, sounding so stiff he barely recognized his own voice. Unacceptable. “You look different.”
She glanced down at herself. “I suppose I do. You were right, an admission I don’t make lightly. But wearing color, looking more like someone you would usually have on your arm, will be far more gossipworthy than if I dressed as I usually do. Just as the hideous flowers you sent me did.”
It was disorienting, to mix business with fake pleasure. That was all. He just had to get his wits about him. He put on his usual smile—always so easy—offered his arm and felt somewhat reassured when she hesitated.
It was still the same Serena underneath this costume, and he’d need to remember that to make it through the evening.