Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Sofia
“ R emember, Sofia.” Sebastian grabs my elbow before I could slip out of the car, and I know what he’s about to say next. “Do not embarrass me.”
It’s common knowledge that image is everything to made men, but my husband takes it to an extreme. No day passes without him saying those four words.
I nod and he releases me.
As soon as my foot lands on the grounds of Villa Rivera, the exclusive beach resort in Capri, I know the weekend is going to be hell for me. Sebastian only told me about this wedding a few hours ago, and I’ve spent the time since packing and making the journey here. It’s only now that it hits me that I’ll be stuck with the Lucchese family for the next forty-eight hours or so.
This entire mess is somewhere at the top of the list of things I don’t need.
The light evening breeze whips at my hair and I hurriedly tuck the loose strands behind my ear and wait for my husband to come around the car. Just then, there’s the revving sound of a bike and I turn to see a rider clad in all black except the red helmet over his head.
I’m distracted from staring at him when I notice something at the back seat of the bike.
Is that?—
“You made it,” my husband says with a smile. “It’s the second wedding you’ve attended since returning to the city. I didn’t think weddings would be your scene.”
He whips the helmet off his head, and his eyes lock on mine first before dragging away from me slowly. That brief eye contact is enough to have my heart racing. After I realized that Nero was avoiding me and then watched him brutally murder someone for me, I’ve been the one avoiding him.
I wonder if he’s noticed, but I have a feeling those sharp, dark eyes don’t miss anything.
“I’m more interested in the change of scenery than the wedding. What about you, though?” He cocks his head and then steps off the bike.
“What about me?”
Nero turns to the pet carrier attached to the back seat of his bike and begins to fiddle with it. “You and Paolo have never been best buddies. Surprised to see you here.”
The man at my side waves his hand in the air dismissively. “Bygones. Childish quarrels. Paolo and I are as close as siblings now.”
Apparently, Sebastian is as close to everyone as he is to Nero. It didn’t take me any time at all to figure out that most of the men are wary of my husband. They respect him, defer to him and obey him. The big question is why? As far as I’m concerned, he is just a pompous man-child with a cruel streak and not a lot of business acumen, if any.
I’ve heard him make decisions that were so stupid, I was shocked nobody burst right into laughter.
I can’t add that to the load of things I worry about, though. My first priority and the thought that makes me feel queasy just thinking about it is my duty as Sebastian’s wife. My parents have already contacted me at different times to inquire about the progress I’m making on that font.
Of course, I lied to them and assured them that all was going smoothly.
When I told his cousin Viviana that same lie, she stared at me like she could see right through me. The truth is that Sebastian hasn’t come to my bed in days, and I hate to imagine why. It’s a relief for me to not have to endure the sterile lovemaking, but I also know that I have to do my duty.
“Is that a cat?” Sebastian laughs. “You’re a cat guy now? This is ridiculous. Just wait till I tell the others, they’ll never let you live this down.”
Regardless of how obnoxious he’s being, my husband does have a point about the cat. I will never have pegged Nero to be a pet guy.
“He’s so cute… What’s his name?” I ask quietly.
Sebastian turns sharp eyes on me, all amusement wiped clean from his face, “Don’t you know to not intrude when men are having a conversation?”
Before I can stumble through an apology, his fingers dig into my arm painfully, and I’m hurled inside the resort. I glance over my shoulder just before we go out of sight. And I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but I swear Nero’s eyes are fixed on the back of my husband’s head, his expression a chilling mix of anger, disgust, and repulsion.
Even though I shouldn’t be worried—after all, he might just dislike men putting their hands on women—I feel a rising dread inside me. Not because I fear Sebastian might turn around and see him, but because Nero’s look is eerily similar to the one I’d seen before—the one he had when he smashed my assailant’s head into pulp.
And that’s what scares me the most.
It’s only when we walk into the courtyard where the rest of the wedding party are gathered that Sebastian releases me. I immediately paste a smile on my face as people start to approach us.
“You must be Sofia,” a slender man in corduroy pants and a beach print shirt says. “I couldn’t make it to your wedding, but I’m honored that you’re here for mine.”
“You must be Paolo,” I smile at him. “Where is the lucky bride?”
“Doesn’t get here till tomorrow morning, just an hour or two before the wedding. Her father is ridiculously overprotective.”
At my side, Sebastian snorts. “Even after you’ve paid for her in full? Now that is what is ridiculous here.”
The man chuckles, but it lacks humor. “It’s not like that, Lucchese. Nina and I have been together for so long. She’s a good girl, and I like her, you know. It’s not a transaction.”
“Go find the other women,” my husband whispers. “I can see Viviana and Aunt Danya.”
I shudder. If Viviana is a bitch, then Danya is the Queen Bitch. She can find a squeeze of fault out of the word perfection itself.
“Okay.” The only thing I want to do is run to the edge of the island, jump right into the ocean, and swim till I can’t anymore, or sharks take me, either one.
Smoothing my hand down my dress anxiously, I make my way across the room to where the two women are standing, staring over the room with identical pursed lips. Danya’s hair is a perfect silver pushed back and tied into a severe bun, like a boarding school matron.
“Hey,” I begin. “What time did you arrive?”
“I don’t know why you insist on being troublesome,” Viviana hisses. “It seems the more we try to guide you on the proper dress code for a woman based on your status, the more you insist on doing whatever you please.”
I don’t bother glancing down at my dress because I’ve come to realize that even if I wear heavy robes and a chastity belt, they’ll still find it indecent.
Danya tuts. “I hear Sebastian doesn’t touch you, hasn’t touched you in a while. Is that true?”
I don’t wonder how she knows. “No. It’s not true at all.”
The younger woman’s eyes slide down my body. “I would understand his reservations. Men like reserved women. They need to be able to unwrap you at the end of the day like a hidden treasure.”
“Of course,” I agree easily.
“That is beside the point,” the silver-haired woman says. “What matters is that you get pregnant and give him his heir. The sooner the better, or people will start wondering. And trust me, child, you do not want people to wonder about you. People can be cruel, and we don’t want that for you. We’re only looking out for you.”
A hysterical laughter bubbles up inside of me, and I press my mouth together to keep it in. The only people that have been cruel to me so far is them.
“Of course.”
I tune out the rest of their conversation, and my mind naturally goes to its new favorite subject: Nero. I think about how he had looked with his helmet-ruffled hair, the black turtleneck, and those dark jeans that molded to his long legs. He looks like he was made to ride that bike, the machine purring between his legs, and then I imagine it’s me astride him.
I clench my thighs together discreetly when I start to feel a curious throb at the junction of my legs. What is wrong with me? Are Danya and Viviana right about me being a hussy? Can Sebastian tell just by looking at me? Is that why he hates me?
“Aunt Danya,” Sebastian slides in beside me, arm going around my waist. “You look beautiful as usual.”
I try to remember if my husband has ever called me beautiful after our wedding day, and I can’t recall.
“You’ve always been a charmer,” the older woman chuckles, cheeks going red with pleasure.
“That’s what I keep telling him,” an unfamiliar husky voice purrs, and I turn to face the woman who has joined our party of four.
Her hair is platinum blonde and falls down to her waist in straight lines. Her face is tastefully made up, and she’s wearing a bright red lipstick. The woman is stunning, a head turner, and her voluptuous curves displayed in the coffee brown bandage dress make me look like a small boy at her side.
My eyes immediately land on where her red, manicured fingers have wrapped around Sebastian’s arm. I narrow my eyes at the casual, possessive display.
“You must be Sofia, the wife.” Her words drip with derision as she glances over at me.
“Yes, the wife,” I echo. “And you are?”
Sebastian immediately speaks up. “If you’ll all excuse me, I have some important business to attend to with my associate.”
“Associate?” I raise a brow.
Cold, blue eyes land on me, an effective warning that makes me snap my mouth shut. I watch them walk away, his palm pressed to the small of her back.
“Give him an heir,” Danya hisses, “or you’ll have to compete with the bastards.”
With that, the two women turn and disappear into the crowd, leaving me feeling cold and sick to my stomach. I immediately snatch a glass of wine off a passing waiter and toss it back, feeling it bubble down into my system. I grab another and move deeper into the shadowy corner.
“If you’re trying to get drunk, those champagne glasses aren’t going to do anything for you fast enough,” a deep voice rumbles in my ear.
I still even as all the hairs on the back of my neck stand on ends. “Who says I’m trying to get drunk?”
He moves away from my back and comes to stand at my side, my shoulder pressed into his side. “I’d be disappointed if you’re not.”
“How presumptuous of you to assume I act solely to meet your expectations.”
“That’s quite a roundabout way of saying, ‘Leave me the hell alone’.”
“I’ll leave the flowery language to you,” I shrug, then turn my head to look at his side profile. His strong jaw is covered with a light hint of beard, and he’s changed into dark brown wool pants and a white short-sleeve shirt. Casual, sexy. I swallow and turn away quickly.
“Why are you hiding here?”
“I’m not hiding,” I lie.
“You’re lying.”
“I don’t care what you think, Nero,” I scoff. Another lie, but then again, who’s counting. “I don’t care what anybody thinks.”
From the side of my eye, I see him look down at me, expression impassive. “What do you care about?”
“My marriage. My husband.” It’s the truth, but not the complete truth.
“He doesn’t seem to share the sentiment.” There’s amusement in his voice, and I follow his gaze to where the platinum blonde is pressed against Sebastian, one hand cupping his jaw as she laughs at whatever he’s saying.
My other hand that isn’t holding the champagne flute curls into a fist at my side. “Our marriage is none of your business. And she’s his work associate.”
Even to me, the words sound like the sort of lie you would tell a kid in kindergarten. What sort of associate can she possibly be? They don’t look like they’re talking about business at all.
“Hmm,” he hums. “Of course she is.” And then he turns and walks away. It’s only when he’s gone that I remember that I was supposed to ask him about the cat.