Chapter 22
Five minutes earlier…
I stood at the foot of my bed, finally ready for the evening. Well, on the outside I was ready, on the inside I was screaming… desperate to escape.
My father hadn’t even thrown Luca a ball to announce he would be taking over, so why he felt the need to do it for me was beyond me. I hated being the centre of attention. All those faces staring at me. The endless innate chatter of small talk and people sucking up to my family. It was awful.
I smoothed my trembling hands over my dress, feeling my heart begin to race. I didn’t know if it was from the nerves that came with tonight or if it was the feeling I felt whenever I thought of Arturo.
It had been days since I’d last been around him but each night I watched him from my window.
The sight of his bare, tattooed chest, covered in sweat as he pounded around the lake made my body ache.
Then there were the dreams. In some I’d wake to find him in my room, finishing what we’d started, in others he was leaving, telling my father I no longer needed him.
And each day I woke up, I’d feel the same sense of loss.
Heaving a deep breath, I ran my comb through my waves then dabbed a little gloss over my lips. One glance in the mirror told me I looked fine and thankfully a little concealer covered the dark circles beneath my tired eyes.
It was time to get this show on the road.
I pulled the door open and made my way to the staircase. I swallowed as I caught the sight of a tattooed hand. I should have known he’d be waiting for me.
The only man who had made my heart race.
The only man who crept his way in.
The only man I had allowed to weaken me.
Halfway down the staircase I registered my mother giggling at something my father said as he placed a kiss on her flushing cheeks. But it was no use, like a moth to a flame the only presence I could feel was his. My body ached for his hands to touch me. I knew I shouldn’t want him, but I did.
Fuck, I didn’t even know who I was anymore.
The second our eyes met I felt the gravitational pull, and I knew he felt it too.
There was no way he could deny it. I took a moment to reclaim my equilibrium as I stared at him.
I’d never seen him look the way he did tonight.
He took my breath away. Unlike my father and brothers, Arturo was dressed head to toe in black, making his tattoos stand out.
God, he was beautiful. His hair fell down onto his forehead, and his stubble was neater than usual.
The silver in his face glistened under the bright lights of the foyer.
“Isabella, you look breathtaking.” My father’s voice broke my trance, and for once it wasn’t welcomed.
I approached him slowly, taking one step at a time, hoping I didn’t fall in the damn heels I’d chosen.
“Thank you, Pa,” I smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek. Desperately trying to ignore Arturo, I turned my attention to my mother and hugged her tightly but as I looked up, I saw Arturo’s eyes locked on mine. He looked angry and that took me by surprise.
What the hell was up with him? I chewed over this as Mama stroked my hair.
Logic told me that Artruo likely despised social events about as much as I did, so perhaps he had been hoping I’d insist on cancelling tonight’s event.
Whatever the reason for his annoyance, wasn’t my problem.
Stepping away from my mother’s embrace, I cleared my throat and finally spoke to him.
“Good evening, Arturo.” His mouth quirked up ever so slightly and it made my heart leap with the faintest hope.
“Good evenin’, Miss Ricci,” he replied. I noticed his fingers twitch at his side before clenching tightly into a fist.
My father cleared his throat, breaking the connection Arturo and I shared.
He was completely oblivious, thankfully.
“After you,” Arturo said in a flat voice, turning from me.
Once outside, Arturo stepped up to the SUV and held the door open.
His face was blank which infuriated me more than I cared to admit.
Mirroring Arturo’s actions, my father held the opposite door open for my mother who gracefully slid onto the leather seat.
The second the door shut behind them both I felt Arturo’s breath slide across my neck as he whispered in my ear.
“Te ves impresionante, Isabella. No quiero nada más que hacerte mía.” I understood his last hushed word.
Mine.
Frowning, I slid into the car beside my mother who had that look in her eye, one I’d seen before but couldn’t work out what it meant,
“Are you ready for this evening, baby?” she asked, as Arturo entered the front. Next to my mother, my father answered a call in Italian.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I smiled, squeezing her hand tightly.