Chapter 3 #2
His expression was tense, his eyes showing something like trauma, so she wanted to lean over and put her hand over his, to tell him it would be okay.
But then, the thought of touching him made her whole body turn into a chaotic scramble of fireworks and lightning; she didn’t want to do anything to exacerbate that.
“I was angry. I didn’t see much merit in the company, the family, in any of the things I cared about before.”
“I can imagine,” she said, slowly. She was no expert, but she would think most people who came back from a warzone carried with them a lifelong trauma.
It was not a natural state for humans, and the things that were witnessed by necessity—and acts committed in the name of service—would be impossible to forget.
“My grandfather used the company to tempt me back into this world. He gave me temporary control, more responsibilities, to get me to reconnect. And it worked.”
She tilted her head to the side, thinking about that. “That doesn’t sound like such a mean thing to do.”
His laugh was grim. “Doesn’t it?”
She shook her head. “It sounds like someone who cares for you very much.”
“He cares about our family name; our reputation.”
She absorbed that for later analysis. She didn’t know the situation well enough, but she still thought her first read might have been more accurate.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, changing both subject and demeanour with apparent ease.
She blinked quickly. “Yes?”
“Your past.”
Her brows shot up. “Meaning?”
“That photo of us was just the beginning. In America, our marriage is a bit of gossip online, or perhaps a few of the business pages may run with it. But in Italy, this will be news.”
Her throat seemed to thicken, as though she were having an allergic reaction. She could hardly breathe. Reaching for her water, Ally drank quickly in an attempt to clear it.
His expression was grim as he regarded her. “Front page news.”
She almost spluttered her water.
“Because you’re a Di Santis.”
He dipped his head once.
Her heart seemed to be hammering way too fast to be contained. “So…you need to know I don’t have some secret scandalous history.”
The man opposite her was sexy all the time, but when his lips flickered into that sardonic smile, he was molten-lava-scorching. “Among other things.”
She couldn’t help but return his smile. Their eyes latched and held for a beat too long and her whole body seemed to hum with an invisible electrical current.
“Such as?” she prompted, carefully placing her water glass on the table. “A penchant for getting married to secret billionaires in Vegas?”
“Do you?”
She shook her head. “You’re the first guy I’ve drunkenly stumbled down the aisle with.”
His expression was taut, something flashing in his eyes before he glanced away, so she could only see his face in profile.
“I should not have let it happen.”
“I think you were pretty drunk, too. The chapel shouldn’t have let it happen.”
He made a gruff noise. “I think that might disrupt their business model.”
“Right.”
He turned back to face her, his expression once again a mask of control. “The media can be…invasive.” He spat the word with distaste. “When I returned from The Middle East, it felt as though my entire life was an open book.”
She shook her head angrily at the thought of that. “The last thing you needed, I’m sure.”
His eyes narrowed slightly and she could tell that he didn’t want her sympathy. “They will leave no stone unturned in their research.” His eyes swept her face. “And their research will revolve around you.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She looked at him for a beat, her stomach twisting anxiously. “And you waited until now to tell me this because it’s too late to back out?”
Was that regret in his eyes? A look of apology? It was gone too fast to be sure. “You didn’t ask.”
She pressed her lips together, holding back from pointing out that this was the first time she’d been in this kind of situation. “Yeah, well, it was all a bit of a juggernaut.”
“Si.” He traced the base of his water glass. “The easiest way to protect you from whatever the press might find is to do my own research.”
Confusion swirled inside of her. “Like…what do you mean?”
“An investigator will do some digging.”
Her lips parted.
“To be clear, I don’t particularly care what they find.”
Her head was spinning. “You mean an investigator would look into me?” Her voice sounded squeaky.
He nodded once.
“But you don’t care what they find.”
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug.
“So…if I’m a murderer or a…I don’t know…”
“Well, a murderer is a hard one to spin. But besides that, your past is your past, and this marriage is in name only. I just need to know what the press will find, so we can deal with it before it gets out of hand. And before my grandfather gets wind of it.”
Her lips parted.
“I know it’s invasive as hell. I’m sorry. But I do believe it’s the best way to manage this situation.”
At least he had the decency to ask her for her permission.
Though would he listen if she said ‘no’?
She tilted her head to the side, studying him thoughtfully, and decided that yes, he probably would.
It was purely based on a gut feeling. An instinct.
But somehow, she just didn’t think this man was routinely dishonest.
“Fine. Have your investigator look into me, but I can save you some trouble.”
He arched a brow.
“There’s nothing of interest in my life. No crimes, no scandals, no drama. No meddlesome family members waiting to come out of the woodwork. You struck the jackpot with me, Luca. I’m all alone, and as it turns out, I have no life. I’m like a blank slate. Happy?”
He would have been happier if she had been wrong.
As she’d made that little speech, her face somehow crestfallen and broken, he’d been sure she was mistaken.
After all, everyone had a past. Everyone had a life.
Adolescence was designed for silly mistakes, for getting drunk with friends and getting into harmless mischief.
Not for Luca, of course. His life had revolved around the obligation he felt to his father, and the need he had to prove to his grandfather that he belonged. That he was worthy of the Di Santis name.
But Luca had always thought he was quite singular in that regard. Until, almost ten hours into the flight to Rome, he’d received the preliminary packet of information he’d requested.
One page.
Her high school transcripts—decent grades, and only a handful of extra curriculars.
She hadn’t gone to her senior prom. She hadn’t gone to college.
She’d stayed in the small town she’d grown up in in upstate New York, lived in a nondescript house with her father, who passed away six-months earlier.
He frowned at the scant information there.
There was a note explaining that she had no social media, so there was no easy way to verify her romantic history. However, on-the-ground interviews would be more telling.
A sense of dissatisfaction ran through him.
He’d been looking forward to learning more about his mystery bride.
But there was also a deluge of distaste, as he authorised further, discreet investigations into her background.
If there were skeletons in her closet—and he couldn’t understand any other reason someone her age wouldn’t have social media—then it was better if he found out before the braying press.
And his grandfather, who would no doubt be running his own investigation right at that very moment, and without any hesitation or decency as to how deep he looked.
Luca glanced over the top of his laptop, to where Allegra had fallen asleep in one of the armchairs.
Her long blonde hair was arranged over both shoulders, falling to midway down her body, drawing attention to the soft swell of her cleavage, so his body was stirring with familiar masculine instincts even before he could stop it.
He ground his teeth, trying to drag his gaze away.
She shifted a little, her pink lips parted, her skin like honey and sunlight.
Her shirt lifted, exposing a hint of skin at her midriff, and the desire he’d sought to control burst through him anew.
Unmistakable and raw, demanding something from him that he knew he couldn’t give into. At least, not with Allegra.
For Luca, the line between himself and his staff had always been uncrossable.
Given the way he came to be, it was little wonder he took a dim view of workplace relationships, and Allegra was, to all intents and purposes, working for him.
It didn’t matter that her job involved posing as his wife, that was no excuse to blur the lines.
No excuse to forget himself.
He was not his father. Luca lived with clean lines, precision and intention, and he wouldn’t weaken now, no matter the temptation.
It was her sharp intake of breath, soft but desperate, that had his gaze wrenching upwards to her face. Sleepy eyes, half-shuttered, were fixed on him, seeing him. Seeing him looking at her. Knowing what he was thinking, undoubtedly, from the flush of pink on her cheeks.
His cock jerked, begging, pleading him to say something. To give into the heaviness in the air, the throb of need that was pulling at both of them.
He set his jaw, remembering his boundaries, his rules. “Go back to sleep, Allegra. We are still hours from home.”