Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
A s soon as Vince closed the door behind him, I jumped up and searched the room for my clothes from yesterday. Where the hell were they? I even checked the en-suite bathroom, without luck. I didn’t even have the shirt I’d slept in.
It was still in his office, on his desk…where he and I…
Damn. I would not think about how he’d laid me out and devoured me as if I were his favorite dessert.
Shit…now that was exactly what I was thinking about. Heat rose up from my chest, and I fanned myself while I got up, moved to the door, and eavesdropped.
Matt and Vince’s voices were too muffled to make out anything. I swiped the room once more. But my clothes weren’t there. Vince must’ve moved them, that I was sure because I hadn’t been that drunk yesterday, and I could remember he placed them on the chair right here.
What kind of a neat freak cleaned up in the middle of the night? And had he not slept at all?
I walked into his closet, took a whiff, and did a 360. There were so many black suits and white and black dress shirts, it wasn’t even funny. And the whole room smelled like Vince’s signature scent—something heavy, dangerous, and incredibly sensual and sexy.
I went to the row of suit jackets, touched them, then looked at the label of one of them. Brioni, not Armani as I’d expected.
I went through several drawers, grabbed some boxer shorts and a dress shirt, then wrapped a belt around my waist to hold everything in place.
I looked in the mirror, then shrugged. The clothes were several sizes too big, but with the belt, they at least didn’t dwarf my body and would hopefully stay in place. Even though Matt would know immediately that those clothes weren’t mine.
I braced myself for some major awkwardness, then sighed. There wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.
I stepped out of Vince’s bedroom, my heart pounding like a jackhammer, closed the door behind me, and moved across the corridor toward the voices in the living room.
The sudden silence hit me like a wall as all eyes locked onto me as soon as they came in sight.
My cheeks burned, and I tugged at the hem of Vince’s oversized shirt, acutely aware of how ill-fitting the clothes were.
Matt’s eyebrows shot up, a mix of surprise and amusement dancing in his eyes before he cast a glance at Vince.
But it was the dark-haired beauty next to him that made my breath catch. Iset—no, Isabella Salvini—sat there on the sofa, the shocked look on her face probably resembling mine.
“That was the door to Vince’s bedroom,” Isabella stated, “and you’re wearing Vince’s clothes.”
She seemed to catch herself quickly because the smirk playing on her lips resembled Matt’s.
“Looks like someone had a good night,” Matt said.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out. What could I possibly say? Sorry, I just slept with your brother instead of you whom I’m supposed to marry.
God, this was a mortifying mess.
Vince cleared his throat and, thankfully, drew the attention away from me. “Jemma, come here.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument.
I shuffled over, hyperaware of my bare legs and disheveled appearance. As I sank onto the couch next to Vince, his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me close. The possessive gesture wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.
Well, the only oblivious one was Picca, who wiggled in Isabella’s lap, jumped down, and dashed over to me as soon as I sat down. I lifted her up and barely kept her from jumping up and licking me all over my face.
“Down, Picca,” Vince said, his voice firm but gentle.
Picca immediately settled down, circled in my lap, then rolled herself into a little ball of fur and calmed down while licking my hand.
Matt leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “So I’m guessing the wedding plans have changed?”
I wanted to sink into the floor. This was mortifying. But a small part of me, the part that still rebelled against being a pawn in someone else’s games, lifted my chin defiantly.
“What wedding plans? I never had any intention to marry anyone,” I said, surprised by the steadiness in my voice.
Matt grinned, then nodded.
“Yes, they have. Meet my wife,” Vince said.
My head shot around, and I stared at him with my mouth hanging open. I didn’t think he was serious when he said we would get married before—though, for the record, I called him delusional then—but why was he calling me his wife in front of his siblings?
WTF?
Vince’s fingers tightened on my hip into an almost bruising grip while he stared at me with narrowed eyes, daring me to object.
I narrowed my eyes and shook my head, but he held my gaze, not giving an inch.
He was fucking serious—which was completely ridiculous.
I should just laugh it off and make a joke. Or maybe tell him again how completely delusional he was. Maybe then he would get it. Though I didn’t want to have it out with him in front of Matt and Isabella.
I tore my eyes away, severed our connection, faced his siblings again, and shook my head.
This was a tactical retreat. Because if he thought he could just bully me to marry him, he was as thoroughly mistaken as he was when he started this whole arranged marriage shit.
Isabella stared at Vince, then at me, then at Vince again. “Your wife?”
“Future wife,” Vince clarified as if that made things any better.
“Well, well, I can’t say I didn’t see that coming.” Matt chuckled, shook his head, and leaned back. “You always did have a thing for the wild ones.”
Vince straightened next to me and shot his brother a look that probably had brought stronger men to their knees.
But Matt merely grinned wider. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, bro. I’m not judging—I get the appeal. It’s just not my preference. Just make sure to keep her happy because otherwise, she will kill you in your sleep.”
He fixed me with a pointed stare, but his expression softened. “And you don’t go and trample all over him. Under his hard shell, he’s hiding a good heart.”
“Enough,” Vince growled.
But the words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Under his hard shell, he’s hiding a good heart.
Vince’s drawing immediately came to mind. The beauty he saw in me. And even though we’d fought like feral cats in the last couple of days, there had been those little moments when he cared for me, as well.
The way he’d looked at me. The way he’d made sure—despite his growly threats—that I was okay, that I wasn’t hurting.
Holy shit.
What exactly was going on with me? Did Vince Salvini somehow brainwash me? How did I suddenly see all the green flags when I’d only seen red ones before?
Who was this man, and when exactly did I stop seeing him as the enemy?
Was this what sex did to you?
Was there such a thing as sperm-induced endorphin release?
“Okay, we’ll need some girl talk,” Isabella said, got up, lifted Picca off my lap, then pulled me up, as well. “We’ll be in the jacuzzi, nursing our hangovers, so don’t come outside,” she said, pointing a finger at Matt and Vince. Then, she dragged me behind her toward her room.
Once in there, she handed me a bathing suit and a fluffy pink bathrobe, then put her finger over her lips and shushed.
Why was she telling me to keep quiet?
“Let’s get changed quickly and talk outside,” she whispered, and I suddenly realized why she wanted to have some “girl talk.”
This had nothing to do with Vince’s declaration and everything to do with Iset’s and Nyx’s problems.
But what was this whispering all about? Was the apartment bugged? And if so, were there hidden cameras, as well? I looked around,but couldn’t find anything suspicious.
Vince wouldn’t film himself, right? What good would that be?
I shook my head, changed into the bathing suit and the robe, and followed Iset outside, simultaneously dreading and looking forward to hearing what news she had.
I watched her round the corner toward a part of the deck I hadn’t noticed before.
I crossed the deck to follow and desperately tried to ignore the fire pit, the hammock, and the pool to my left.
Was it only the day before yesterday when Vince dumped me in there?
How was it that we’d moved from hating each other to having what was possibly the best sex anyone ever had in a matter of a weekend? I mean, we didn’t even use a condom, for God’s sake. Was he really, seriously considering marrying me and starting a family? Just like that? And how was it that most of our interactions happened or started out here?
I shook my head, rounded the corner, and came to a stop right in front of Vince.
“He was just leaving,” Isabella said, animosity dripping from her voice.
Vince looked over his shoulder. “I just opened the jacuzzi for you, you ungrateful brat.” He turned back and focused on me. He looked me up and down, and his eyes darkened.
I immediately felt the heat build in my chest.
He stared at my cleavage, barely visible under the robe.
“I’m not naked under there,” I said.
His grin was almost wolfish, and there was mischief dancing in his eyes. “Well, it’s just a question of how many layers I have to go through, right?”
I raised a single eyebrow. Where did this flirty version of Vince suddenly come from? Wow, just wow.
“What a damn shame she’s here,” he murmured, then reached out, dragged his finger along my neck, parted the robe a little, and moved across my cleavage.
His touch was so soft and erotic at the same time, it made me break out in whole-body goosebumps.
Then he looked back up into my eyes and grinned while licking his lips like the cardboard villain in a bad movie.
And I snorted with laughter. “You look like a horny slimebag.”
He waggled his eyebrows. “If that’s a fantasy of yours.” He took a step closer until his chest pushed against mine. He leaned down. “I can pretend to be whatever you want. It’s been a while since I enjoyed a good role-play.”
Then he stuck his tongue into the shell of my ear and made me jump back in surprise. I didn’t realize his real plan because my robe opened the moment I moved back, and his hungry eyes swept down my body before he locked his gaze onto mine. “Sexy.”
“Stop badgering her,” Isabella shouted from behind his back.
He waggled his eyebrows again and winked at me, and my heart skipped a beat.
Vince Salvini, all dark and intense, was dangerous. But Vince Salvini, flirty and sexually suggestive. That was a surefire way to die of a heat-induced heart attack.
He unscrewed a bottle of water he’d been holding and handed it to me. “You need to hydrate,” he said, winked again, kissed my forehead, and passed me by without another look but not without his shoulder touching mine.
Holy shit.
“What about me?” Isabella shouted.
I turned around and watched Vince’s retreating back—and ass—and the bird he flipped his sister over his shoulder.
I smiled. It was nice to see that side of him. I’d witnessed it with his brothers, but apparently, the relationship with his sisters was similar easy and normal.
I took a sip, then slipped out of the robe and eased into the hot, bubbling water, wincing as my sore muscles protested—a reminder of last night, or maybe this morning.
The jacuzzi’s jets hummed, creating a soothing white noise that enveloped and calmed me. I sank deeper, letting the warmth seep into my bones.
Isabella settled across from me, her dark eyes scrutinizing. “Are you okay? And…do you really intend to marry Vince?”
I opened my mouth to deny it outright but hesitated. The word ‘no’ felt heavy on my tongue. “I…no,” I said, surprising myself with how wrong it felt to just outright rule it out. But was I honestly considering it?
My mind flashed to Vince’s intense gaze, his protective embrace, the way he’d held me last night, the way he stared at me, acutely aware of my reaction when he entered me.
“This is just the start. It will only get better.”
A warmth that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water spread through my chest.
Isabella nodded, a knowing look in her eyes. “I get it. Vince has the personality of a bulldozer. You’ll never win if you go against him head-on. But that’s not the most pressing issue anyway.”
She leaned closer, lowering her voice despite the noise covering us. “I owe you an apology. The list is out, and your name is on it. They have everything—names, addresses, all of it.”
I stared at Iset, could see the sympathy in her eyes. I swayed, suddenly dizzy, and grabbed the edge to steady myself.
Iset said something though I couldn’t understand a single word. Everything was suddenly drowned out by a shrill ringing in my ears, mixed with the pounding of my heart against my ribs like it wanted to escape.
I went completely still, then glanced down at the bubbles as tears welled up in my eyes.
Shit.
Everything I’d feared was coming true.
I focused on my breathing and the bubbles percolating the surface and bursting into microscopic, tiny sprays of water.
Iset grabbed my forearm and squeezed until I looked back up at her.
“I’m so sorry. I really thought I’d covered all the tracks. But it looks like an inside job,” she said, her face grim.
Each word felt like a knife twisting in my gut. An inside job? What the hell? This was even worse than a bad movie. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t expect the news, but… “Really?”
She nodded. “I’m trying to find out more, but here’s the kicker—the auction winner wasn’t even on our radar. It’s someone we didn’t target at all.”
I gripped the edge of the jacuzzi, my knuckles turning white. “That’s…that’s not possible. How would they know, and why would they…”
Isabella shook her head. “I don’t know, but it’s incredibly suspicious. And dangerous. We need to be careful, Jemma. Very careful.”
I nodded. We needed to be careful…or disappear entirely, which had been my plan in the first place.
Five more days until my new ID was ready. Five more days until I could disappear.
“Very careful about what?”
I looked up at the same time as Iset’s gasp registered in my brain. I turned and stared into Vince’s grim face.
He was holding up another water bottle for his sister.
Fuck.
We were screwed.