CHAPTER THREE #2
Men like Adrian Salvatore were truly heartless. I wasn’t sure why I expected anything else. Maybe I had been too naive for a moment. It gave him the perfect chance to step on me.
But my naivety ended now.
Matteo shifted beside me, his shoulder brushing against mine in what felt like a warning. “My brother fancies himself a philosopher when he’s not busy with his... other pursuits.”
“And I suppose you spend your time in more… noble and selfless pursuits?” I shot back at Adrian, completely ignoring Matteo in my frustration.
“My pursuits are nothing as admirable as your academic endeavors,” Adrian replied. “Though I do have a talent for extracting information from reluctant sources.”
“Let me guess. Terrorizing people and gambling with their lives?”
A flash of genuine surprise crossed Adrian's face before his lips curled into a predatory smile. Several guests shifted uncomfortably in their seats, but I held his gaze steadily.
“Oh my, she has claws after all,” he drawled lazily. “I was beginning to worry my brother was marrying a doormat.”
Ah so not as compliant or as boring as he thought I was.
I had not lost my appeal then, I thought… remembering his last words to me under the gazebo. Not that I cared or wanted to be appealing to him.
“Adrian,” Matteo warned, low and dangerous.
But I didn’t need him to protect me. I placed my hand gently on Matteo’s arm, the touch sending an uneasy twist in my stomach but my hand remained there.
“It’s quite alright. I have dealt with such a character before.
Especially in children. They can be a little stubborn and carry unpleasant attitudes.
But children tend to be immature anyway. ”
A choked laugh came from Giulia, quickly disguised as a cough. Even Damon’s lips twitched slightly.
“Adrian, you’re not here to provide entertainment through petty squabbles,” Enzo intervened firmly.
“My apologies,” I offered immediately, lowering my eyes in a perfect display of contrition. Play the game right, Lucia told me. “I’m afraid I let my nerves get the better of me.”
Enzo nodded, seemingly satisfied with my show of submissiveness, but when I glanced up, I caught Adrian watching me with newfound curiosity.
As though he’d just discovered something unexpected.
His scrutiny made my skin crawl, as if he were peeling back layers I’d carefully constructed.
Whatever fascination I’d sparked in him, could stay firmly on his side of the table. I wanted no part of it.
“The wedding preparations are progressing well. Right mother?” Giulia interjected smoothly, redirecting the conversation.
“Ah, yes. The cathedral has been secured, and the guest list is nearly finalized,” Beatrice finally spoke.
As the discussion turned to wedding details, I felt Adrian's gaze lingering on me. I refused to look at him again, focusing instead on Matteo beside me. His hand found mine under the table, squeezing once—in warning or approval, I couldn’t tell.
“I think you’ll be pleased with the arrangements, Serafina,” Matteo said. “The reception will be at The Plaza. Nothing but the best for this union.”
“That sounds lovely,” I replied with practiced enthusiasm.
The servers returned with the next course, and the conversation shifted completely to wedding preparations. I participated politely, offering opinions when asked, only when asked. Otherwise I was perfectly demure.
The fire in my veins had cooled down, even though I was acutely aware of Adrian’s gaze. But I refused to let it cause any more disturbance in my character.
“How many guests are we expecting?” my father asked, his tone purely business.
“Four hundred, at least. Every family from both coasts will be represented,” Enzo replied, equally formal. “It is, after all, a wedding of a lifetime.”
“A proper spectacle, you mean,” Adrian muttered under his breath, not loud enough for the whole table to hear.
Of course Adrian had to voice his opinion. His stupid, childish opinion. Why wouldn’t he just shove his foot in his mouth and shut up?
I took a small sip of my wine and focused on my breathing. The rest of the dinner proceeded with remarkable civility. Matteo even made a pointed effort to engage me in topics about history and the arts.
By the time dessert arrived, I was almost able to believe this arrangement might be bearable. Almost.
My last bite of the delicate tiramisu melted on my tongue and I savored the taste.
I enjoyed all kinds of sweets, but I was limited to what I could eat.
Maintaining my figure for my husband was important to me.
One of the lessons I learned about being a future bride.
Since I came back home, my diet has been closely monitored.
I only ate what the chef prepared for me. No more, no less.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said softly, placing my napkin beside my plate after swallowing my last bite. If only I could sneak into the kitchen for another slice. But I knew that would absolutely be frowned upon by my father. “I need to refresh myself.”
Matteo stood as I rose, a practiced courtesy that felt hollow yet necessary.
I smiled demurely at the table before making my way from the dining room with careful, measured steps.
No snarky remarks were followed by my exit.
Of course because Adrian had left the table before dessert was served.
Maybe that was why I actually enjoyed my only treat of the day.
It tasted especially sweet in his absence.
When I was finally beyond everyone’s sight, I allowed my shoulders to slump slightly. The pressure to perform was exhausting, and I needed just a moment to collect myself before returning to the charade.
I walked down the large corridor, my heels echoing softly against the marble tiles as I passed by the library and toward the easy wing where the powder room was. There was something about the rhythmic clicking of heels that soothed my frayed nerves.
Something about tonight’s dinner made my future feel more real. More definite.
I really was getting married. To a man who was still a stranger to me.
What did I really know about Matteo? And what could I possibly learn about him in six weeks’ time that would make him feel less than a stranger and more like a lover?
The sound of my heels seemed to resonate through my ears before a different noise caught my attention. Something strange that sounded akin to a muffled groan.
I slowed my pace, straining to listen. It was somewhere between a moan and a hushed whisper, and it came from the corridor leading to the wine cellar.
Curiosity pulled me forward before caution could intervene.
I approached the heavy oak door that was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling onto the hallway floor. My hand hesitated on the ornate handle when the muffling sound grew louder, more insistent, more desperate, before I pushed the door open. I peered into the dimly lit space and—
Thud.
My breath caught in my throat.
Thud. Thud.
Blood roared between my ears and my heart crashed against my rib cage.
Oh.
OH.
Oh my God.
Adrian Salvatore stood with his back against the wine racks, head tilted back, eyes half-closed. I wanted to look away… I should have, but I couldn’t.
I may have gone to an all-girls school and I kept away from boys at UCLA… I was my father’s daughter. I was already betrothed and I had a duty to keep my innocence intact. My reputation couldn’t be tainted in the slightest way.
But it didn’t mean I was completely unfamiliar to sex or the male anatomy.
For some absurd reason, I was rooted on the spot and my eyes traveled down to his unbuttoned pants, and his—
Oh my.
The sight before me was absolutely obscene and I was oddly intrigued. That mere fact was truly messing with my head.
His hand was tangled in the dark hair of a maid I didn’t recognize, kneeling before him. Her uniform was hiked indecently above her thighs as she moved rhythmically; her mouth stretched around his hard length. Her eyes were shut tightly, and it almost looked like she was pained.
But when she made a choking sound, followed by a deep moan, I realized that this was pleasurable for her. She was enjoying this, being on her knees, sucking him.
A tingle ran down my spine and my stomach tightened, twisting with a feeling unknown to me.
Everything about this was filthy and crude, but I couldn’t look away.
When he thrust his hips hard, pushing his… cock… deeper in her throat… I couldn’t help but swallow against my own accord. My lips parted with a silent, stuttering gasp.
And Adrian’s eyes snapped open, locking with mine across the room.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My pulse fluttered.
For a short second, I thought he would be embarrassed. Except, he held my gaze, unabashedly.
Dark amusement and something predatory danced in his stormy blue eyes. His lips curled into that same mocking half-smile I’d seen at the gazebo as he continued thrusting in the mouth of the maid.
Jerky, deep thrusts.
There was a feeling brewing inside of me, a pressure between the juncture of my thighs. My chest heaved. This was so wrong…
A guttural groan spilled from him and shame finally snapped through me like cold, cutting ice.
Heat flooded my face as I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my mouth.
I turned away and did the only thing I could. I fled. My heart hammered against my ribs, the sound of his low chuckle following me down the corridor like the cruel whisper of the devil.
How could I have allowed myself to stand there for that long?
Have I sinned?
How… how…
I choked on my breath, my throat closing in guilt as shame coursed through my veins.
How could I have stood there and watched?
It was wrong.
I was wrong.
And he… Adrian Salvatore, he was all kinds of wrong.
God, I wanted to burn my eyes. I wanted to scrub the memory away until nothing remained but clean, untainted darkness.
He was everything the teachers at my all-girls catholic school had taught us to keep away from. To protect ourselves from. We were taught that men like him would taint us. Defile us. Ruin our chastity.
They were right.
I wasn’t going to let a man like Adrian make me fall into sin. No, I was going to remain pure for my husband. For Matteo.
In my haste to get away, I wasn’t looking and crashed directly into a solid form. My hands instinctively rose to steady myself against a firm chest.
“Serafina?”
A chill ran down my spine at the voice.
I looked up into Matteo’s questioning eyes, mortification washing over me in waves. His hands gripped my upper arms, steadying me.
No, no.
Why him? Why now?
“I—I’m sorry,” I stammered, struggling to compose myself. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
His gaze moved past me toward the wine cellar, his expression hardening imperceptibly. “Are you alright? You look... disturbed.”
Horror shot through me. “I’m okay!” I responded quickly. Too quickly. Too suspiciously.
But he couldn’t go there.
He could never find out that I had just walked in on his brother getting himself… pleasured.
His eyes narrowed for a second before his expression cleared into nonchalance. “Well then, you should join us back at the table.”
“Of course.” I pulled myself away from his arms, smiling pleasantly as I did so.
“Don’t worry. My brother hasn’t returned yet since he left the table. So he won’t be bothering you for the rest of the evening. Adrian must have left for his other… noble pursuits.”
I licked my lips and nodded. “He doesn’t bother me,” I lied through my teeth.
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “Oh, he definitely infuriates you. It’s okay, I’ll accept that little lie. Because it’s quite refreshing to see someone stand up to my brother. Most people are too intimidated.”
I was surprised by the approval in his voice. He liked that I stood up to his brother?
Matteo stepped closer, leaning down so his lips brushed against my ear. His breath feathered against my skin. Light and tingling. “You’re nothing like I expected.”
My pulse quickened.
“I like you,” he said charmingly in my ears.
Heart thundering, I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
Matteo took a step back before motioning for me to walk ahead. He led me back to the dining room.
I tried to ignore the panic rising inside me.
Fear and dread coursed through me, slicing through my veins and scorching my flesh.
Inside, I burned and withered.
Outside, I was the flawless pawn.
Perfect wife. Perfect lie. Perfect illusion.