Chapter 6 #2
“Most are on my chest and back. Some on my arms.”
“That must’ve hurt.”
“It wasn’t that bad.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the opposite column. “You got any?”
She shook her head. “In our family, women are forbidden from getting tattooed.”
I cocked a brow. “Messero gives a shit about that kind of thing?” I didn’t think he was all that old-school.
“He’s changing things, but slowly. There are many people in the family that hold our old traditions close to heart. My father was one of them.”
Her father was a cunt. We held a party when he died. It was a shame he croaked from fucking cancer instead of one of our bullets to the head. “What other antiquated traditions does your family follow?”
“Women aren’t allowed to work unless they’re given a special dispensation.”
I nodded. That was common. In our family, women were also expected to busy themselves with home life, but of course, my mother was the exception to the rule.
“Anything else?”
For some reason, her cheeks reddened. “You know, I feel better. Should we try again?”
The pivot was sudden. I didn’t mind learning more about her family, but I nodded and waved at the photographer to come back. The point wasn’t to chat. It was to get the pictures and move on.
As the photographer ambled back to us, she turned to me and asked, “Why were you so against this marriage?”
My spine went rod straight. “Who said I was against it?”
“Your mom. She said it took a while to get you on board.”
I still wasn’t on board with it. Not even close. And this was the perfect opportunity to go for the jugular and tell her she was the reason. She was clearly a bit insecure, and she’d take my rejection to heart.
But the words refused to slip off my tongue. I told myself it was because saying that out loud would certainly end this photoshoot, and not because I dreaded seeing that hurt again in her eyes. “I don’t like others making my choices for me.”
To my surprise, she made an amused huff. “And you think I do? You think I dreamt of marrying someone who seems to dislike me for no obvious reason?”
I didn’t dislike her. The sudden realization made me grit my teeth. She was far too open and wore her vulnerability on her sleeve, but there was bravery in that too.
But I wasn’t about to tell her that. I needed her to think I didn’t like her. Why the fuck did I have to keep reminding myself of that?
“You seem happy enough to play the role of the blushing bride,” I ground out.
“I’m just trying to approach this with an open mind. After this, we’re going to have to live together. Wouldn’t it be better if we got along?”
“My house is big enough. With luck, we’ll rarely cross paths.”
She frowned. “I have a hard time believing you want that given you were raised by two people with an exceptionally strong marriage.”
Oh, she had no idea. “Maybe you should complain to my mother then,” I bit out.
“I don’t think involving my future mother-in-law in my marriage before it’s even begun will help with anything. We’re both adults. I hope we can sort things out between us on our own.”
I glanced away to hide my surprise. Fabiana really hadn’t confided in her. Huh. She was showing more restraint than most people showed around Vita.
“Ready?” The photographer had returned.
“Yeah,” I said.
He peered at us through his viewfinder. “Could you move closer to each other?”
Fabiana crossed the stone platform and stopped in the center of it. I dragged my tongue over my teeth and joined her.
“Cosimo, wrap your arms around her. Fabi, turn slightly and lean your back against his chest,” the photographer instructed.
She shifted into place while I did my best to ignore the heat of her small body pressing against me.
The photographer circled us. “Let’s have you face each other. Cosimo, hold her close to you, please.”
I moved to place a hand against her lower back. At least that was my intention. But I wasn’t familiar with her body yet, and my palm landed too low, my pinky splaying over the curve of her ass.
She went still.
My hand jerked up. “My bad.”
A beat passed. “You could at least take me on a date before you grope me.”
It was a joke, but it triggered my defenses. I didn’t want her to think I was warming up to her. “You’ve obviously never been groped if you think that’s what that was,” I said roughly.
The shutter clicked. “Fabiana, tilt your head back, please,” the photographer said. “I want you looking right into each other’s eyes.”
She lifted her chin, and her emerald gaze shimmered with mild annoyance. “Of course not. I’m a good Italian girl. I’ve been saving myself for marriage.”
“Hold still!” the photographer called out.
He didn’t need to tell me to hold still.
My body had gone rigid, stunned by the sharp, unwanted jolt of arousal that pulsed low into my groin.
Mine.
The thought flashed hot and primitive through my head before sanity slammed back into place.
“Do you really think I’m stupid enough to believe that?”
She scoffed again. “You were asking about my family’s traditions. That’s one of them.”
Christ. All those years away from home, and she hadn’t broken from that particular tradition?
Didn’t matter. Or at least, it shouldn’t. And yet my heart raced, my body burned, and an image of her splayed across my bed wearing white lingerie and looking at me with those innocent eyes refused to leave my mind.
“Fabiana, rest your cheek against his chest.”
A second later, she was right there. Her ear pressed against my racing heart. When her breath hitched, I knew she’d heard it.
Fuck.
I forced myself to take a slow, deliberate breath, fighting to get my body back under control.
“That’s perfect! We got it!”
We broke apart. The photographer was babbling about editing and sending out the files, but I tuned him out while I attempted to rein myself in.
A wife handpicked for me by my mother was bad. But a wife with a body that fit too well against mine and who managed to get under my skin with just a few words? That was even worse.
Without a word, I turned and made my way toward the bar in search of a stiff drink.
It was only after my phone buzzed and I read Rosa’s message that my agitation eased.
“I found something on her. Not so innocent after all. Call me when you can.”