Chapter Two #2
Massimo closed his eyes, his long, dark lashes resting on his cheeks, and she thought she detected a faint shudder or a grimace or some reaction that she couldn’t read.
Then, when he opened his eyes again, her blood ran cold as that last spark of hope, the one she was clinging to, drained from her body.
In front of her was the man she had seen in photos, a self-contained, arrogant man with a coldness that was unmistakable.
It was as if he had just turned off every emotion, so methodically and thoroughly, leaving absolutely no trace of the man whose cheeks she had brushed her lips against, the man whose eyes had flashed with desire and something else.
Or maybe he hadn’t turned off his emotions.
Maybe this was who Massimo Carandini really was, and what she had mistaken for a connection had been just a facade for her father’s benefit that he’d let linger.
Maybe this was the true face of the man underneath it.
The man she would marry. Catarina swallowed.
“Miss d’Avalos.” Her name rolled off his tongue, velvet-soft, both a caress and a warning.
“We are to be engaged,” she said, pulling her thoughts in order. “Surely first names are appropriate.”
He frowned, disapproval radiating from him.
“What I require of a wife is someone who will maintain an impeccable reputation,” he said, his gaze fixed on her, impenetrable as the silky tone washed over her.
How could his voice leave her so aware of the way her shirt brushed over her breasts each time she breathed? Catarina tried to focus on the fact that he didn’t seem to find her comment worthy of a response.
“I will require you to attend dinners where we will entertain business clients,” he continued in a cool, imperious tone. “We will make regular public appearances to ensure that the world understands the stability of our partnership. Our priority is to portray the image of stability.”
He enunciated that last word slowly, as if she might have missed all the implications of the values he was laying out.
Catarina resisted a frown. She tried to read his face for some hint of emotion, but she found it impenetrable, a wall of stone.
If this was the kind of interaction he wanted, she had a lifetime full of practice with it.
Growing up with her mother in the spotlight, she had learned early never to show her emotions.
Hopes, dreams and disappointments were saved for the privacy of her own home, for her family.
That was the nature of having the Nordic Siren for a mother.
Any hint of discontent would be picked apart by the paparazzi, each observation fueling a spiral of further interest and speculation.
Catarina would never subject her family to that.
But at home, away from crowds and prying eyes, she could finally exit the stage, and she had found relief in that freedom.
How foolish she had been to so quickly slot Massimo into the role of family.
The loss of the warmth of her family had been a gaping hole inside her since her mother’s death, and she could not expect marriage to Massimo to fill it.
Still, she needed to clarify the terms of this engagement.
Catarina kept her face serene, tilting her head to the side. “This proposal sounds an awful lot like a business negotiation.”
His eyes grew even darker, more distant. “I was given to understand that you were clear about the nature of our agreement.”
“I am,” she said lightly, as if she wasn’t negotiating her entire future. “I suppose I just wondered if there would be any ceremony to this, perhaps a ring or a proposal on one knee, just for tradition’s sake.”
She gave a little laugh, the kind that had amused and enchanted the crowds that her mother drew.
Massimo did not smile. “I kneel for no one.”
“Noted,” she said mildly.
His eyes narrowed as if he was searching for sarcasm, for any hint of rebellion. But he wouldn’t find it. She had learned long ago, in her endless dealings with her father, that challenging a man like this directly was not the most effective strategy. Instead, she changed tactics.
“I will, of course, require time for study. I put off university to be by my mother’s side.
” Catarina hadn’t actually applied for university or even thoroughly considered this path, but it was one of many roads to freedom she had entertained before her father had dropped this marriage into her lap.
Her comment was a test of sorts, she supposed, one that she had the uneasy feeling Massimo might fail.
Too late, Catarina realized she should have asked for the results much earlier.
Massimo didn’t react to the mention of her mother, let alone offer the condolences that usually followed any reference to their family’s devastating loss. Instead, he waved a dismissive hand. “You can schedule that with my assistant to ensure it doesn’t conflict with the functions we will attend.”
Catarina smiled pleasantly at him as she digested his words, trying to ignore the heaviness that weighed in her gut.
This man was as autocratic as her father, but a future with him would be much worse.
Giuseppe d’Avalos loved her, and regardless of how ham-fisted his attempts to steer her life had been, she had never once doubted that his intentions were true. He only wanted the best for her.
But Massimo Carandini didn’t care about her happiness.
That much was clear. This man hadn’t sworn on her mother’s deathbed to take care of her.
Instead, he was looking for an expensive, showy decoration, paid for with the kind of upscale exchanges that were made in a study filled with the scent of grappa and cigars.
None of the fruits of those deals would come her way if she married this man.
Massimo would treat her like a prop, brought out when he needed her and put away afterward.
Catarina had been stuck in her father’s gilded cage for the past two years, as they’d struggled to find a way forward in a world without her mother.
But Massimo’s cage would be much smaller, and he wasn’t even pretending it would be gilded.
Catarina had told herself she would go through with this marriage for her father’s sake, but staring at the cold, implacable man in front of her, she was no longer sure she could.
And yet, she had to. Her father had rested the future of his business on this union.
And no matter how different they were, she loved her father and wanted to please him.
She wanted to allow him to rest easy. But how could she promise her life to a man like Massimo?
There had to be a solution. It was just so hard to think rationally when he was so close. His body seemed to call to hers.
She smiled pleasantly at Massimo as he glared at her, and she found herself searching for a chink in his armor of demands and control.
This was a man who didn’t even think to downplay his arrogant commands on their first meeting, before she had even agreed to their marriage.
Clearly, Massimo didn’t have enough people in his life who said no to him.
“I do so look forward to our next meeting, but I am afraid I have business to attend to this morning,” she said. “Unless you were expecting a romantic walk through our gardens first…”
She followed her delicate jab with a bland smile. A flash of surprise crossed his face, as if the last thing he’d expected was this poke at him followed by a dismissal. It disappeared immediately, but the glimmer of satisfaction inside her lasted longer.
“We will have plenty of time to talk about future expectations,” he said, his low voice rich and ominous.
That voice slid through her, leaving her breasts heavy and heat pooling between her legs.
This was what made him so dangerous. Her body didn’t seem to care about cages, gilded or not, even if they belonged to closed-off men with iron wills.
Despite everything he’d said, she still had the inexplicable urge to run her fingers over his full lips, so improbably sensual against the hard set of his jaw.
Though she’d all but told him to leave, a part of her ached for him to protest, to close the distance between them and press her mouth against his lush lips.
If just his cheeks were enough to spark heat inside her, what would his lips do to this feeling inside her?
But Massimo didn’t kiss her. He just stared at her with that cold, assessing gaze, as if he was calculating her use to him. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out the door.
Catarina stood in place for a long time, in the middle of the library, the shelves of books glowing red and orange in the light from the windows.
But she wasn’t thinking about books. She was thinking of Massimo and those deep brown eyes that, for a few moments, had seemed to be a window into a more private part of him.
No. She must have imagined those few moments, imposing her own spin on the distinctly less charming reality of her life. It wouldn’t be the first time. She’d spent enough of her childhood entertaining herself with her imagination to know how easily ideas could turn fantastical.
Later that evening at dinner, Catarina smiled pleasantly across the table through course after course as her father ticked off characteristics that made Massimo the perfect husband: money, family name—tarnished but redeemed—and multiple estates for her exploration.
She didn’t miss his unspoken assumption that this list should make her happy, and she didn’t say a word, just murmured in assent and let her father talk.