Chapter 14
Romeo
I’m in a crappy mood as I sit down at the table the next morning.
I’m irritated, embarrassed, and a little humiliated.
I should’ve known a woman like Lucia wouldn’t be interested in marrying a man like me, despite how she’s been acting.
I’m starting to wonder if this woman even likes me, or if I’ve just been a game to her all along.
The way she kissed me … the way she looked at me like I was the only person in the room. It all felt real in the moment. But maybe that’s just who she is.
Perhaps I misinterpreted flirtation for genuine interest, or kindness for something more. And now I’m left stewing in the bitter taste of rejection, questioning everything.
Maybe it’s for the best if I let someone else take over. After everything that’s happened, bowing out might be the right thing to do.
My eyes briefly flicker up to the woman in question when she places my breakfast down in front of me. “Thank you,” I mumble, diverting my gaze to anywhere but her.
“I was thinking about what you asked me last night,” she says, taking her usual seat. The one closest to me.
I immediately shovel food into my mouth because I’m not ready to have this conversation with her. Not now. Not ever. I want to pretend the whole thing never happened.
“Forget it. It was a stupid idea,” I reply, trying my best to save face in this awkward situation.
What the fuck was I thinking, even entertaining the idea that Lucia would want to marry a man like me, even under false pretences? She’s seen where I come from. She’s witnessed the ugly firsthand. I can’t blame her for wanting no part of that.
Hell, I want no part of it myself.
I’m halfway through mentally tearing myself apart when I hear her sigh. She places her hand on top of mine. I find her touch steady, warm … grounding.
“It’s not like I don’t want to marry you, Romeo. I do. It’s just …”
She does?
Those words slam into me like a truck. I freeze as my eyes snap to hers, searching for something—anything—that proves I didn’t imagine them.
“Just what?” I ask, my voice low and rough around the edges. I fucking hate the ridiculous amount of hope bubbling up inside me like some lovesick idiot in a bad movie.
When did I become so pathetic?
But I can’t help it. Not when she’s looking at me like that. There’s conflict in her eyes, but not a trace of fear or disgust. Just hesitation.
“Just … not like this,” she says finally, her fingers tightening slightly over mine. “Not as part of some transaction. I want a real marriage with you, not a fake one.”
I drop my fork onto my plate and exhale all the air from my lungs. “I’m doing this to try and save you from … him.” I can’t even bring myself to say that fucker’s name out loud.
“I know,” she replies. “And I appreciate that you would go to those lengths for me.”
This woman has no idea the lengths I’d go to for her. I’d lay down my life for her without a second’s hesitation.
“If I were even capable of something real, Luc, please know you’d be the only one I’d want it with.”
Those words feel raw, like I’ve ripped them straight from my chest and laid them at her feet, no armour, no pretence. Just the truth.
She stares at me, eyes wide, her mouth parted like she’s not sure whether to speak or breathe first.
“I mean it,” I add, quieter now. “If I had anything good left in me to give … it would be yours. Every damn bit of it.”
Her lips tremble, and for a moment I think she’s going to look away, shut down or retreat, but she doesn’t. She leans closer, like she’s drawn in by something she doesn’t fully understand.
“You are capable,” she whispers. “You’re more capable than anyone I know. You’ve just been too busy trying to survive to notice.”
I want to believe her. God, I do. But belief isn’t something that’s ever come easily to me. Not in people. Not in myself. And certainly not in love.
“I appreciate you saying that, but the man you think you see, and the person I am … deep down, are not the same.” My voice is rough, almost brittle, and it hangs there between us like a storm cloud, heavy with everything I’ve never dared to say.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I do.” I glance down at my plate of food because I have no response to that. She obviously sees something in me that I don’t. “You gave me a proposition last night; now I have one for you.”
My attention flickers back to her, and I can’t help but narrow my eyes slightly. “What kind of proposition?” I ask sceptically.
“A compromise.”
“What kind of compromise?”
“We can start our marriage as a sham, but keep everything on the table and see what happens.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Define ‘everything’,” I ask.
She lifts one shoulder. “You know, all the good stuff.”
“I’m not having sex with you, Lucia.”
Although I want to have sex with her so fucking bad. I crave this woman more than my next breath. I inwardly cringe at that thought. Now I’m starting to sound like those fuckers in her books.
“Ugh,” she groans, tilting her head back in frustration. “I had a feeling you’d say that. This is where the compromising comes into play.”
“I’m listening,” I say.
“We start slow. Make a list of the things we can do and take it from there.”
I rest my elbows on the table and steeple my fingers. I know I’m going to regret this, but I still find myself asking, “What kind of things would be on this list?”
“Things we both agree to.”
“Give me an example.”
A smile curves her lips as she sits up straighter in her seat. “If sex is off the table for now, can we at least get each other off?”
“No!” I grumble.
“Shower together?”
“Not happening. Lucia.”
The smile on her pretty face diminishes a little more with every rejection.
“Can I at least watch you shower then? I’d sit on the side of the tub and just observe, I promise.” She crosses her forefinger over her heart, and I have to roll my lips to stifle my laugh. I swear to God, this woman is too much.
“Definitely not.”
“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she mumbles. “Can I at least sleep beside my husband then?”
Her husband.
I like the sound of that way more than I should.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Last time you were in my bed, you took advantage of me while I was sleeping.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ve been over this. I never would’ve done that if you’d been clearer about your free pass. I wasn’t aware it was a one-time offer.”
“Well, it was.”
“I know that now, so I’d just sleep beside you. I can’t promise I won’t snuggle you, though.”
I’m probably going to regret saying this, but if I want this marriage to go ahead, I’m going to need to give her something. “Maybe.”
Her eyes light up with excitement as a playful glint dances in them.
“Okay. See? That wasn’t so hard. We can work on the rest of the list after breakfast,” she says, releasing my hand and reaching for her fork like she didn’t just casually agree to turn both our lives upside down.
“I said maybe.”
“You don’t have to commit to every night, I’ll settle for now and then to start until you warm to the idea … or not.”
I sigh in defeat. “Fine.”
“Eep,” she squeals, clapping her hands together. “And yes, by the way.”
“Yes?” I echo, completely thrown.
“Yes, I’d love to be your wife.” She gives me a smile that is full of mischief and, surprisingly, warmth. “Lucia De Luca has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
I stare at her, caught somewhere between stunned silence and that dangerous rising hope again.
God fucking help me.
My hands slightly tremble as I stand beside my bed and knot my tie. I can’t believe this is happening.
I’ve faced some brutal moments in my life, things that should’ve broken me, but this? Standing in front of this mirror, preparing to marry a person who could best be described as the woman of my dreams, has me feeling that I might actually come undone.
Lucia Rossi is chaos and calm all wrapped into one maddening little bundle, and somehow, by some miracle or twist of fate, she said yes.
Not just to the marriage on paper, but to me. To the mess I am, the past I carry, and the man I’m still trying to become.
I may have had to grease a few palms to get the job done, but the marriage licence is sorted, and Father Flannery is on his way.
I still haven’t figured out where things will go once the threat is removed.
An annulment … an amicable divorce? I have no fucking clue, but I’ll tackle that problem when it arrives.
Lucia has been acting giddy all day, and deep down, that makes me feel like shit. She’s seeing this for more than it is, but I can’t find it in me to burst her bubble.
Maybe it’s selfish—hell, I know it is—but seeing her happy, even if it’s built on a shaky foundation, is the only thing keeping me steady right now. For the first time in years, there’s light in my life, and it’s all because of her.
Even if I don’t deserve it, I’m going to hold on tight for a little longer.
Long enough to memorise the sound of her laugh when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
Long enough for that stupid daily shimmying to stop because she no longer needs to chase her blues away.
Long enough to pretend, for both our sakes, that maybe this could be more than just a means to an end.
One day, I’ll have to look her in the eye and explain why this can never be real. But today I’m going to push that all aside and marry her.
Lucia desperately wanted to tell her sister about our impending nuptials, but I had to swear her to secrecy. I know I’m risking everything by keeping this from Dante, but I wasn’t sure how he’d react to my idea.
Dante specifically told me that the man who was lucky enough to have her would need to make a lifetime commitment. I can’t offer her that. She deserves someone better than me. This is simply part of a plan, not a final destination.
I drag my suit jacket off the clothes hanger and slide into it before glancing down at my watch. Father Flannery should be arriving soon.