Chapter 6
HE HAD MADE SURE THE wardrobe in Allegra’s room was stacked with clothes for her.
He’d sensed her uncertainty about this marriage, about the difference in their circumstances, and he’d wanted to remove that worry for her.
The job had been outsourced to one of his assistants, who’d no doubt outsourced it herself to some boutique manager or other.
So he hadn’t had a hand in choosing any of the clothes for Allegra.
If he had, given the spark between them, he might have made sure all the necklines were high and the fabrics practical linen or similar.
He would definitely have steered clear—or tried to—of slinky silky camisoles and skin tight leather skirts.
He would definitely have pleaded with her to wear that distracting mane of golden hair in some kind of utilitarian bun or braid, rather than long, loose and wavy around her distractingly beautiful heart shaped face.
Distracting because all he could think of was wrapping it around his fist and tilting her face back, kissing her like he had in the living room earlier, until she was moaning into his mouth, panting for him.
A virgin.
His wife.
The words kept running through his mind over and over again.
It was bad enough to start with, as she sipped champagne and talked with Valentino, but when the antipasti were brought, she popped a juicy olive into her mouth, and her full lips became sheened from the oil, it was like a literal gut punch.
He couldn’t ignore it. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be ignoring it.
This was their ruse, no matter what else.
Valentino was with them, which meant he was supposed to reach over and draw his thumb over her lower lip, smile sensually, lower his head and whisper into her ear, “I could watch you eat olives all night.”
She on the other hand was not supposed to jerk back as though he’d stung her, to stare at him pleadingly, to look like a deer in the headlights, and yet she did, her reaction natural given how inexperienced she was.
How was it possible? He’d tormented himself with that question as he’d dressed for dinner. He couldn’t understand how a woman like her, who reacted so swiftly to his touch, had resisted this side of herself for so long.
She softened with obvious effort, forcing a smile and relaxing her shoulders, but he knew that if he were to look in his grandfather’s direction, he’d see shrewd observation on his features. Cynicism, too.
Because Valentino Di Santis knew Luca, and knew that he’d stop at nothing to secure the company under his control. Legally, fully and without limitations.
Perhaps Ally knew that too, and realised she’d made a mistake, because she continued to soften, moving her body in her seat so that she was almost nestled into his side, so close he could feel her warmth, and the velvety perfection of her skin.
He couldn’t help but lift his arm and put it around her shoulders, his fingers dangling over her upper arm, touching so lightly he felt the goosebumps that spread across her.
She glanced up at him, lips parted and his body tightened with arousal.
A virgin.
Totally inexperienced.
There was no way he could act on what he was feeling.
He’d almost talked himself into it earlier. He’d told himself that sex was just sex, and if they were to succumb, then so what? He’d never had a problem compartmentalising physical relationships in the past. They were simply biology, nothing more.
But now, it was impossible to imagine giving into temptation, impossible to imagine making her his as he wanted. Even though his desire had only grown, as the day wore on, and they swapped careful biographical information, to learn what was necessary to fool his family.
Dinner seemed to last forever. By the end, he felt as though he’d been dragged over hot coals. Playing the part of her loving, lustful husband, touching her, flirting with her, all the while knowing he would need a frigidly cold shower afterwards, was wreaking havoc with his mood.
Finally, though, Valentino stood, expression unreadable as he reached into his top pocket.
“I meant to give this to you earlier,” he said, placing a small black velvet box on the table.
Luca knew what it was immediately.
“I notice there is no ring.” Was that accusation in Valentino’s voice? Or suspicion?
Luca reached out for the box and opened it, confirming that the Di Santis diamond was nestled inside.
“This is the only ring I would choose for my bride,” he said.
And that, at least, was the truth. He’d never planned to marry, but if he had, tradition would have dictated that this generational ring was gifted to his partner. “And it has been in the family vault.”
“You didn’t ask me to retrieve it.” Valentino probed, looking for a hole in their story.
“I planned on doing so myself.”
“Yet you hadn’t.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed. “Are you suggesting something?” He knew from experience that there was no sense obfuscating with his grandfather.
“I just find it strange.”
Luca looked at Allegra and something shifted inside of him, making the answer so obvious he smiled genuinely before glancing back at the old man.
“Allegra doesn’t need jewellery to know how I feel about her.
None of this,” he gestured to the view, then pulled Allegra closer to his chest, holding her there with the fervour of a man who knew he was on borrowed time—soon they would be alone and the charade would end for the night, “matters to her. This,” he opened the box again, taking in the enormous solitaire diamond ring, “is just for the sake of form.”
He knew it was the right answer by the look in Valentino’s eyes. For a moment, he registered genuine emotion there, and when he shifted his gaze to Allegra, there was true warmth on his features. “Luca’s grandmother was just the same. Never saw the trappings, only ever the man.”
Luca ground his teeth. That was true, yet at times it had given him cause to question his grandmother’s sanity.
How could anyone love the hard-hearted Valentino?
Luca reserved the same scepticism for himself: he knew no woman would ever love him, because he wouldn’t let them.
Love was not on his radar—it was something he was always clear about.
Even before deployment, his focus had been on the business. On proving that regardless of his parentage, he belonged. Then, he’d lost Marco, and a part of him had died alongside his best friend. He could not simply move on with his life, and look for happiness, when Marco had lost that opportunity.
“Do you like it, my dear?” Valentino’s question dragged Luca back to the present, and the ring box that was resting in his palm. He forced himself to play his role, lifting the ring and holding it towards Allegra, sliding it onto a ring finger that was trembling ever so slightly.
“It’s…beautiful,” she said, but in a way that was far from convincing. A second later, her eyes hooked to Luca’s. “Please, tell me it’s insured.”
Luca’s laugh was soft. “No.”
Her eyes went saucer wide.
“It is too valuable,” he said, with a lift of his shoulders. “But we could replace the diamond,” he said. “It’s more the sentimental value.”
“It’s old,” she said, slowly.
“Very,” he agreed, understanding her hesitation. “You don’t have to wear it,” he offered. “We can choose another.”
She expelled a soft breath that showed relief, but Valentino was speaking over the top of her.
“I disagree,” he said, voice firm. “This ring is your birthright, Luca. You are the oldest Di Santis, it passes to you, and from you to your bride. It is a family tradition you cannot refuse to honour.”
“I do not particularly care about family traditions.”
“We both know that’s not true.” Valentino’s summary was like a thunderclap. “You want the whole world to know you belong.”
“I don’t care about the whole world.”
“Fine. You want your brother and cousin to know. This ring shows them.”
He bristled at his grandfather’s observation.
Damn the man for being so astute, for understanding the wounds that had long since dug into his soul.
“The only person I’ve ever thought of as a brother died in the Middle East,” he corrected, speaking plainly even when he’d barely explained the situation to Allegra.
One brief look at her face and he saw the uncertainty there.
“I do not care what anyone else thinks.”
“It’s okay,” Allegra said, putting out a hand and pressing it to Luca’s knee, worry in her face.
“I’ll wear the ring. At least, when we’re out in public, or doing things with your family.
” She frowned for the briefest moment before turning a beaming smile on Valentino. “I’m very grateful for the honour.”
Valentino nodded his approval. “Good night, then.”
Allegra left the terrace shortly after Valentino, excusing herself to get ready for bed, pleading exhaustion, and so he waited on the terrace alone.
He hoped that if he waited long enough, she’d be asleep before he entered the room.
It would be so much easier to resist her if she were sleeping.
So much easier to ignore the pounding temptation to reach out and touch, as he had on the terrace.
Even now, his fingertips tingled with remembered sensation, the softness of her skin, her warmth, the way her breath husked at his touch, and he groaned into the night air, a plea to the heavens now, to make the next year go quickly.
God knew if he kept seeing her in his mind, naked and wearing only that damn diamond that told the world she was his, and his alone, he would never get through it.
Three hundred and sixty-five nights suddenly felt worse than a prison sentence.