Chapter Thirty-Four
Lucas
I watch her from the corner of my eye. She looks small and utterly breakable in the passenger seat, pale and barely breathing.
‘See it as our duty, if it makes it easier.’
I grit my teeth as I remember the colossal lie spewing out of my mouth.
It never was about duty. It was about forcing her hand to give in, about making her accept the inevitable.
But she doesn’t know this. She doesn’t need to know, as long as she signed herself over to me.
Admittedly, this was not the marriage a woman might dream of, but for me it was perfect in its outcome—she is mine at last, in every way.
I don’t care if it makes me the villain of the story.
She nervously twists the ring I’ve put on her finger.
It was my grandmother’s ring. She was surprised when I produced the velvet box after we both signed the contract.
Even now, she seems to wonder why I had this family heirloom on me.
The truth is, not even I know why I have been keeping my grandmother’s wedding ring on me for the last month.
Liar, a voice in my head sneers. You know exactly why. The same reason you’ve sent Call all the documents the day you found her, so he could draft the document where only the date and two signatures were missing.
I push the thoughts away. There is still one last detail to be sorted.
“Where are we driving?” she asks, bolting upright in her seat.
Here we go. “You’re staying with me, you’re my wife.”
Her head whips around so fast that her bun disentangles and her golden hair falls in soft waves over her shoulders. Fuck, now I’m dying to drag my fingers through the strands while I plunder her mouth with mine.
“Absolutely not,” she protests, a crease forming between her brows. “This marriage is not real!”
It takes all my self-control not to slam on the brakes and pull over. “This marriage is as real as it gets, cara mia,” I grit out, willing my voice to sound civilized and non-threatening.
“I’m not staying in your bachelor pad until things blow over.” She scoffs.
“That remains to be seen.” I force my voice to stay calm, but my teeth are grinding so hard my jaw locks. Bachelor pad.
“We are married in name only, isn’t that enough?” she asks, with contempt. “We can quietly part ways and I’ll return to live above the café and go on with my life.”
“You’re not returning to live there,” I snap. “Besides, your position has already been filled.”
“What?” Her disbelieving shriek fills the car. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You remember Emily from the women’s shelter, don’t you?
The one with a little boy. You seemed close.
” She looks at me with shock and I go on, willing her to understand that she won’t escape ever again.
“She needed the fresh start, and I arranged for her to take over the job and apartment. Would you want to take that away from her after what she went through?” I know I sound like a cold bastard, but I’m beyond caring anymore.
She gapes at me for a beat longer, then her eyes light up with fury.
“You are demented.” She is hissing like an angry kitten now and I hold back a chuckle.
So damn cute. But cute or not, she needs to understand that she has no say in this.
“Maybe I am, but the outcome remains the same. You will live with me as my lawful wife.” I stare her down for a second before turning back to the road ahead.
She huffs angrily and crosses her arms over her chest. I smile. Better to see her angry than sad. This day must be taking a toll on her.
She tenses when I pull up in front of my family home. I round the car and open her door, extending my hand to help her out. She places hers in mine, too baffled by the surroundings to notice that she is conceding to me something without a fight.
“Where…are we?”
“Our home from now on,” I tell her, watching all the emotions fleet over her expressive face.
Her eyes widen in understanding.
Yeah, little princess, not the bachelor pad you expected, huh?
“This is where you live?” she asks, jaw hanging open.
“This is where we live,” I correct her. And suddenly, it’s all too much.
Her proximity, her wide innocent eyes, the way she nervously nibbles on her lower lip, the awareness that she is here, with me, in my realm.
Without warning, I push her against the side of the car, tangling my fingers into her curls and slam my mouth over hers in a bruising kiss.
She freezes for a beat then she starts struggling.
But I’ll be damned if I let her get away.
I deepen the kiss, stroking her tongue with mine until she melts, coaxing until a low moan escapes her throat.
I am fucking hard, rubbing myself against her belly to try to find release.
But it’s not enough. It will never be enough.
I break the kiss and step back to regain a sense of composure.
We are both breathing hard. Before she can move, I pick her up and carry her sideways to the stairs leading up to the front door.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she squeaks in panic, hands darting out to clutch my suit to steady herself.
“Carrying you over the threshold, cara mia. Tradition.”
She doesn’t struggle for long, probably too curious to take in the inside.
The estate has been in my family for several generations, way back to when they moved from Palermo in Sicily to Boston.
The three-storied villa rises like a relic of another age, the pale rose facade ornate with carvings and crowned with a balustrade, like the Sicilian villas.
Creeping vines soften the heaviness of the building, giving it an old-world charm.
After my parent’s death, I had improved and modernized the interior, widening the windows, changing the stifling moldings and the painted ceilings to a more modern and sleek appearance.
I’ve kept the stone floors and huge fireplaces in the lower levels and had hardwood floors laid on the top floor, where the bedrooms are.
Now the place looks like a stunning mix of old and new, and my heart swells with pride when she lets out a surprised breath as she takes in the living room.
I don’t stop, though, I carry her up the flight of stairs to the master suite despite her protests.
The top floor has been completely remodeled and looks more like the interior of a penthouse than a century-old villa.
The back wall has been entirely torn out, save for the stone pillars, and was replaced by a wall of glass overlooking the pool and the gardens.
I step into the master suite and kick the door shut. Then I release Chiara and lock the door. I stalk inside and lean casually against the dresser, watching her back away from me, waiting, ready to pounce, should she try anything rash.
Her gaze flickers around the room, probably looking for a way out, but I’m standing between the door and the foot of the bed, blocking the two ways out.
Suddenly, she frowns when her gaze lands on the nightstand on my side of the bed.
She steps closer, stops and looks at me over her shoulder with a confused frown.
Then I remember what I have left lying there.
She gingerly picks up the book and turns my way.
“The Hunchback of Notre-Dame,” she murmurs. “This…is this yours? You’ve read it?”
I let my eyes wander over the well-used volume. The spine is creased and the cover is worn. Her eyes are still on me, questioning. I nod once—she might as well find out sooner rather than later. I more than read it. I analyzed it, picked it apart, I can recite passages without even thinking.
“I…didn’t know. When…?” Her voice breaks off.
“When you started giving me that nickname,” I confess.
It became an obsession at the time. I needed to find out everything about the fucker whose name she dubbed me with.
Eventually, I got sucked into the story, then into the atmosphere, and when she disappeared, this book became my last link to her.
She huffs out a half laugh. “Phoebus. It does sound silly now.” Her expression turns forlorn as she looks down at the book. I step forward and gently pry it from her hands to put it in the nightstand drawer.
“Not silly. I might have been that man once.” I turn to face her.
She looks up at me, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I don’t know who you are anymore…” she whispers, and I can’t miss the dread in her voice.
I brush my knuckles over her cheek. “I’m still me, cara mia.
” Is it her I’m trying to convince, or myself?
I don’t feel like the man I was several months ago, outgoing, carefree, hiding the shadows behind a shiny armor.
That armor is now fractured, and there is blackness seeping out from the many cracks, impossible to hide, especially where she is involved.
She brings out the primitive darkness in me and I’m fully embracing it, as long as she remains mine.
I let my gaze roam over her face, possessiveness and something I don’t want to name making my heart thunder in my chest. She must sense the sizzle of anticipation in the air because her eyes widen and she nervously licks her lower lip.
I follow the movement, gut tightening, and breath shallow.
It’s when she takes a step back, then another, that I realize my tactical error when I moved to the bedside table to put the book away.
Now I am the one standing in the corner, and she has a clear way to either the door or around the bed to the balcony.
I narrow my eyes at her in warning. But, of course, she doesn’t heed it.
In one single movement, she whirls around and bolts to the door to try pulling it open.
I am on her before she even manages to flick the lock.
In a blink, I have her pinned from behind against the hard surface.
My whole body is plastered against her back and I almost groan from the erotic current traveling down my spine.
“Uh-uh, love, you’re not going anywhere,” I rasp against her temple.
I catch her wrists and pin them against the cool wood, dipping my face into the crook of her neck to inhale her in.
I am addicted to the smell of her, the feel of her skin under my fingers, and the taste of her on my tongue.
I’m fucking drowning in her. She wiggles as she tries to disentangle herself, but all she achieves is rubbing her ass against me and I am slowly losing it.
“Lucas…” Her voice is breathless, pleading.
I grind harder against her and nuzzle the spot behind her ear.
“Don’t fight me, love. You’re mine, accept it.
” I gather both her wrists in one hand and wrap my other hand around her throat to tilt her head back until her lips are offered to me.
I slam my mouth over hers and devour her like a beast on its last meal.
Her low whimper drives me to the brink of insanity and my last restraint snaps.