7. Antonio
Chapter seven
Antonio
“ S he agreed.” My words are delivered in a blunt tone that’s lacking the emotion squeezing my chest so tightly it hurts to draw breath.
It’s only a short walk from Lucia’s apartment back to the Paris hotel where I’m staying tonight, and while people still swarm around me, I’ve never felt so alone in the city.
“And?” Gio asks on the other end of the call.
“And I don’t want to fucking talk about it.”
“Okay. But have you ever asked yourself why you were so angry when her father wanted her to marry me and not you? Or why you’ve hated every guy Lucia has ever dated?”
The reason I hated them was because they were jerks, and she deserved so much more. But I don’t bother telling my brother that.
“Shut the fuck up, Gio,” I growl down the line. “I said I don’t want to talk about it.”
“We don’t have to talk about it. I just want you to think about why you’re so upset.”
I have no idea what point he’s trying to make.
“I don’t need to think about anything. I asked Luce to marry me. She said yes. And that’s the end of it.”
He remains silent this time, and my brows draw into a scowl. Gio and I are back on speaking terms, but our previously close bond has suffered a bruising, creating stilted conversations. I can’t see it returning fully to what it was until I’ve put my ring on Lucia’s hand.
Ah fuck! I need to get Lucia a ring . Now that she’s agreed, there’s a lot to organize. We haven’t even spoken about a date. I’ll give her the time she asked for to get used to the idea.
Truthfully, I need some time to wrap my own head around it. But then as soon as our calendars align, I want this done. Reading post after post about her engagement to Gio is like death by a thousand cuts. Each one stings a little more than the last.
“Are you still there?” Gio asks, pulling me back into our conversation.
“What did you say?”
“I said I received the report you emailed through. We’ve got a bigger problem than missing money in the accounts.”
This week, our lawyers started drawing up the new distribution contracts.
And the production figures from the warehouse don’t match the invoices we were provided for exported goods out of the Port of Naples over the last year.
The volumes didn’t even come close to matching.
Somewhere along the way, thousands of euros’ worth of product is going missing.
“What do you suggest we do next? We don’t want to lose our new distribution partner, and we certainly don’t want word getting out about the fraud we’ve uncovered. Well, at least not until we know what the hell is going on.”
“I agree. Let me speak to an investigator I know. Hopefully, he can do some digging for us.”
It doesn’t surprise me that Gio knows a guy.
“Keep me in the loop, then,” I reply before ending the call as I step into the hotel lobby.
The traditional charm of the burgundy interior comes with a quiet calm, blocking out the bustle outside.
The few people milling about at reception speak in hushed tones, and I’m reminded of a college library, rather than a hotel in the center of Paris.
I’m glad I decided to book a suite here instead of spending the night at Lucia’s like I normally would.
It proved to be the right choice, given the way our conversation went.
I knew she wasn’t going to love the change of plans; after all, she still has no choice.
But I’d hoped she would have been happier marrying me.
Marriage isn’t something I’d ever seriously considered for myself, but I guess if I had to marry anyone, I’d choose Lucia.
There’s no one else I’d rather spend time with, whether it’s comfortable silences or rapid-fire back-and-forth discussions about anything and everything. She’s clever, talented, and fun.
I swipe the key card across the panel, push the door open, then walk over to the window.
The sun is setting, and the Eiffel Tower lights are sparkling to life.
Sunset has always been our favorite time of day wherever we are.
And I can’t help wishing she would have wanted to have dinner together, sitting at our usual table in the little café with the perfect view.
Picking up my cell, I check to see if she messaged.
Nothing .
Gio’s earlier words come back to me. He’s right. I’ve never liked any of the men Luce dated, and the idea of watching her marry one of them would have been unbearable. But that’s because it would mean I’d be losing my best friend. Not for any other reason.
I brush my hand through my hair. It doesn’t matter now, anyway, because she’s agreed to marry me.
A smile pulls at the corners of my mouth, and a contented sigh slips out.
***
Florence, Italy
I don’t know how much more of this I can take. And I hope that’s how Gio and Lucia feel too. It kills me to have to watch them pretending to be the perfect couple. But this is the fake life we’ve found ourselves living.
Gio has been permanently based in the Florence office since the engagement was announced, though I know that’s not the reason.
He’s avoiding New York because that’s where Tori—the Australian woman he was seeing right before the engagement—now lives.
New York’s a big city, but not when the woman you’re trying to avoid is working at the private club you co-own.
I’m an asshole for not realizing how much this was all screwing with his life too.
But then, I’d thought Tori was only a casual fling like the other women he’s dated.
At the bar, I order another whiskey for myself and one for Gio. It will be my fourth, but I don’t fucking care. I need this. Anything to numb the thoughts that have filled my head from the moment Lucia walked out of her room in the black cocktail dress tonight. One of her own designs, I expect.
While I wait for the drinks, I lean against the bar and search for her again on the other side of the room.
That fucking dress fits her like a second skin.
The low scooped neckline displaying a generous amount of her creamy, full tits has drawn the attention of every man in the room, including mine.
My brother stands beside her, resting a hand at her tiny waist while a photo is taken, and my palms curl into tight fists. I want to rage at him to get his fucking paws off her. It’s illogical. They’re just acting a part, though one that I want to be the lead for instead of him.
He steps away again, and the burn in my chest dissipates.
I’ve never had a single jealous thought over a woman before, but now my head is full of them.
A low growl has become my new language of communication when my brother’s hand reaches for hers, or when he places an even more innocuous kiss on her cheek for the cameras.
Torture. That’s what these nights have become.
I gulp down half the measure of whiskey, hoping to swallow the bitter taste of envy along with it.
And it seems to work, until I find myself staring at Lucia again.
She’s a bright, shiny light I can’t look away from.
I drop my gaze to the flare of her curvaceous hips and peachy ass.
Fuck, she’s got an amazing ass, and that dress showcases it perfectly.
How have I never noticed her smoking-hot curves before? But now that she’s agreed to be my wife, I can’t help noticing them every single time we’re together.
Gio and Luce continue to talk to one of the dignitaries who organized this lavish event.
But I can see they hate being here as much as me.
Gio’s smile is more grimace than a sign of happiness.
While Lucia, looking just as miserable, sips on the same glass of champagne she’s held all night.
She lightly taps my brother’s sleeve, and he makes their excuses, before guiding her in my direction.
If we’re going to survive till Vegas, we need a better form of damage control.
If only Franco Romano hadn’t surprised us all with the engagement announcement, Luce and I could have already been married.
And Gio could have already been back in New York with Tori.
Instead, we’ve had to wait, playing our parts in both our fathers’ charades.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” Gio grumbles when they reach me. I hand him the whiskey, and he drains it in two gulps.
Lucia’s gaze finds mine, pleading with me to save her. Tonight, her eyes are like dark forest pools, maybe due to her dramatic eyeliner, or maybe reflective of the black dress.
Following my brother’s lead, I drain my glass, too, not wanting to stay another minute longer.
***
One Week Later
Every time we’re out in public, my body is like a coiled spring, ready to explode. But not here.
Peace settles in my bones the second I step over the threshold of my hotel suite.
Lucia is staying, and with no more functions for her to attend with Gio this week, I’m finally able to relax.
Behind closed doors, we can be ourselves, and I pull off my tie and jacket, then throw them over the back of a chair.
I’m hoping doing some familiar things together will diminish the wall she’s building brick by brick between us.
I get that she’s protecting herself like she always does, but it hurts that she thinks she needs to do it with me.
Her defenses have always had me on the inside with her, not solidly standing between us.
A pair of Louboutin heels lie discarded on the carpet, and a smile stretches my lips. I drop down onto the sofa.
“Antonio?” she calls, walking into the living room. But instead of sitting like me, she remains standing in the center of the room.
“Luce?” I jump back up, then place my hands on her shoulders and turn her to face me. “What’s wrong?”