25. Truce
Truce
Iwas busy texting Ally and filling her in on how Project Regret Me was going when the bedroom door swung open, and Santino strolled in, unbuttoning his shirt as he did. I immediately hid my phone between my legs and stared at his mouth-watering chest.
“Your papi called me. We are having dinner with him tomorrow night,” he said, entering his dressing room and stripping out of the rest of his clothes.
I swallowed at the sight of his delicious body, all taut muscles, tanned skin, and tattoos, standing in his boxers.
Then he ripped them down his legs, too. I licked my lips as my gaze drifted lower.
Cristo, he had an amazing ass. It looked so firm and hard.
I wanted to sink my teeth into it.
Jesus, no. Game face, woman.
“What?”
He peered at me with a cocky smirk. He knew I hadn’t listened to a word he’d said as soon as he’d started removing clothing.
“Tomorrow night. We’re having dinner at Trattoria San Vero with your papi.”
I blinked. Dinner with my father was too much to process when I had a naked Santino directly in my eyeline. Thinking he was about to grant me mercy, I watched as he reached into his wardrobe and pulled out a pair of... grey sweatpants. Merciless menace.
“My papi? He called you and asked us to meet him for dinner? In public?”
"Si.” He stood in the doorway of the dressing room and raised his arms above his head, holding the top of the door frame like he was posing for a sexy book cover as those grey joggers hung low around his hips.
They were thin enough that he might as well have still been naked because my eyes were glued to the outline of his massive dick.
Why did I pretend I hated giving head? I couldn't think of anything I wanted to do more.
Self-preservation, Aria.
"You better stop looking at my dick like that, Bella Ribelle, or I might get the right idea."
I forced my gaze up to his face, and he groaned. "Stop seducing me with those damn eyes. You know, I only have to look into them, and I'll get hard."
I scoffed. "Sure."
"Is that a challenge?"
He stared, holding my gaze in some hypnotic trance that refused to let me go. Heat rushed through my veins. I glanced down, and there it was. The outline of his dick thickening under his grey joggers; an unmistakable tent that he wasn't the least bit embarrassed by.
I forced my gaze back to his face, cursing the raging desire that threatened to undo everything I'd worked so hard on today. "That’s some party trick. Expecting a standing ovation?"
The corner of his lips twitched into an amused smile. "I think I already have one."
For the second time today, the asshole made me laugh. Not good.
“Back to my father," I said, hoping the topic would cool the sexual tension in the air. "Why would he do that?”
Santino crawled onto the end of the bed with that seductive look in his eyes. My heart raced when he prowled towards me like a majestic animal as I sat frozen. When he placed his hands on either side of my hips, stopping just a few inches from my face, I realised too late that I was trapped.
“Maybe he’s come to his senses and realised how good we are together.”
I snorted. Loudly. It was ridiculously unattractive, and beneath the embarrassment, I told myself I should probably do more of it. But then Santino’s lips curved into a ruthless smile.
“You made a cute little noise just like that when we met in that massage room. I couldn’t stop thinking about it for days afterwards.”
What the hell was wrong with this man? Why wasn’t he repulsed by anything I did? I needed to step up my game and fart or spray water out of my nose when I laughed. Or... ramp up the crazy, needy bitch.
I folded my arms across my chest. “Where were you all day?”
“I told you,” he husked, his eyes travelling down my neck to my tits. He lifted his hand to sweep my hair away, giving him a better view. “I was in a meeting in the city.”
“A meeting? For four hours?” I raised an eyebrow, refusing to give in to the sensation of his fingers on my skin, and whacked his hand away.
His dark gaze met mine. “Si. For four hours. There was a lot to discuss.”
“Yeah, right. Do you take me for a fool?” I narrowed my eyes, channelling my jealous, bunny-boiler character.
“You were with another woman, weren’t you?
Who is she? Or is there more than one? I bet you have a bunch on speed dial you can hit up when your wife refuses to give you a blowjob.
Don’t lie to me. I can smell her on you.
” He smelled unusually sweet, and I wondered if he’d found my cocktail blend in his crystal decanter.
His expression darkened, the silence stretching between us.
It wasn’t what I’d expected. I thought he’d laugh, tell me I was acting bat-shit crazy (because I was), or brush me off.
Maybe he really was with another woman and was about to admit it.
A man like him, in his position and with his looks and charisma, must have to ward off women’s advances every minute of the day.
Just because he’d married me to blackmail my father didn’t mean he’d stop indulging in meaningless sex.
I hated the stab of unexpected, real jealousy at the thought and pushed it away.
If he were unfaithful, that would be the quickest way to a legal divorce.
“I'll take your silence as a sign of guilt,” I accused, holding his fiery gaze as if it didn’t intimidate me at all. Inside, I was squirming.
He pulled his real phone (not one of his burners) from his pocket, let his face recognition unlock it, and tossed it onto my lap. My face twisted in confusion.
“Open my contacts.”
I didn’t feel comfortable going through people’s phones. Unlike someone, I believed in boundaries and privacy.
You are not trying to be you. Be psycho.
I glared at him, picked up his phone, and opened his contacts list. I started scrolling, not really sure what I was supposed to be looking for.
“There isn’t a single woman in my contacts except for family members.”
He was right. There wasn’t.
“I blocked and deleted every woman’s phone number before I married you.”
I glanced up from the screen.
“You can check my messages as well if you like. Check whatever you like.”
I threw the phone back towards him and folded my arms again, this time to create a protective barrier between us. “That doesn’t mean anything. Messages can be deleted. You proved that when you kept deleting our conversations from my phone.”
He exhaled through his nose, staring me down. “I’d never cheat on you, Aria.”
I snorted again, this time on purpose, and looked away.
“That’s what they all say until they see a sexy red thong they can’t resist.” Fuck, I was supposed to be acting. But that hurt was real, and I wasn’t supposed to show him.
His fingers gripped my chin, and he turned my face back to his. His eyes searched mine, and I fell into the dark depths of brown, almost reddish flames dancing in his gaze.
“I don’t know what type of men you’ve dated in the past, nor do I want to know, because I am trying to be less…
murderous for you. But know this. I am not like them.
A man who cheats is weak. I am anything but that.
There are only three things you need to remember about me.
I don’t share. I don’t cheat. And I don’t lie.
So when I say I will never cheat on you, you better fucking believe it. ”
He let go of my chin and sat back, holding up his left hand and pointing at his wedding band.
“There’s only one woman I’ll ever touch, and I wear her wedding ring to prove it.”
I gawked at him as he climbed off the bed and casually headed for the door, as if he hadn’t just left me breathless. How did he manage to make me feel like the only woman in the world and mend a tiny thread of faith in men’s ability to say words and mean them?
“Dinner’s nearly ready. Let’s eat.”
I pressed my lips together as I watched him walk away.
I needed a minute. I wasn’t supposed to be falling for this.
If he really meant every word, I was dealing with a seriously dangerous man.
Not because of what he did for a living, but because of the potential threat he could have on my heart if I let him.
Men like Santino Buccini were well aware of how charming they were. I’d been lied to before, made to believe I was the only woman they were interested in when, in reality, they were sexting three others while I snored beside them.
But there was a voice daring me to believe him. It wasn’t just what he said, but the way he said it, with such calm certainty, as if he were telling me the sky was blue rather than that I was the only woman he’d ever touch again.
I grabbed my phone to text Allegra.
He's wearing grey joggers.
Oh shit.
Exactly. He gave me a speech about how he would never cheat and that I’m the only woman he’ll ever touch again.
And… you believe him?
I shouldn’t. Should I?
I mean… perhaps he took his vows seriously?
This isn’t helping me. I’m supposed to be pushing him away. Making him regret marrying me and desperate for a divorce. Not sitting here wondering what it would be like if I believed I was the one woman a man like him chose. Why is he making it so difficult to hate him?
Shit. YOU LIKE YOUR HUSBAND.
No.
YES.
I CANNOT LIKE MY HUSBAND. HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN WHO HE IS AND WHAT HE IS USING ME FOR?
…Spanking has a way of making you forget. Maybe it should become part of your nightly routine. You can live in ignorant sated bliss *emoji clapping* *emoji peach*
I barked out a laugh, and I threw my phone down on the bed, groaning. She was not helping.
“Ribelle, did you hear me?” Santino’s deep voice boomed from somewhere in the apartment. “Or are you ignoring me again?”
I’d never scrambled to my feet so fast.
When I walked into the kitchen, I realised I must have been in some alternative reality where I was the one being tested, not him.