Chapter 4 #2
That thought did not stop me from trembling under his gaze.
I didn’t like how vulnerable and exposed he made me feel.
As if he was stripping back every layer, including the silk gown I was wearing.
My face heated and I cursed inwardly, angry at my body’s betrayal.
His good looks were putting me out of sorts.
I needed to stop reacting like some charmed, na?ve schoolgirl.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I said, “You can stop inspecting me.”
Ignoring my remark, Enzo asked, “First impressions?”
“What?”
“First impressions of me now that we’ve met,” he elaborated as he came to a stop.
I got the sense that Enzo thought very highly of himself. No doubt he was under the impression that the De Lucas were our betters. He seemed to enjoy signaling that he had a massive ego.
But there was more beneath the surface. A physical prowess in the way he took up space, that was closer to confidence than outright arrogance.
Despite his family’s relatively recent rise in the criminal underworld, Enzo knew how to carry himself.
While he had a reputation for being a brute, there was an aristocratic air to him.
A practiced and studied class underneath that projected savagery.
I didn’t like that. Didn’t like that there was more to him than met the eye.
“First impressions?” I repeated, deciding that it was time to stop circling him. “Unfounded arrogance.”
A cruel sort of amusement flashed in his eyes, as if he was pleased with my less than flattering conclusion.
“Go on,” he urged, though I suspected that in reality, he was taunting me.
“There’s hardly anything more to you,” I said with a shrug, wanting to appear as aloof and disinterested in him as possible. “I’m already bored with this line of questioning.”
“I’ve find that a dull woman gets bored easily,” he threw back at me.
That barb shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. The nerve of him to stand in judgement of me after everything his family had put me through.
“There, your first impression of me,” I said, keeping my tone even so he couldn’t detect my fury.
“There’s more,” he said. “There always is with a woman.”
“You know this from your vast experience with women?” I surmised. “How many have there been? Or do you not keep track of all the notches in your bedpost?”
“Jealous, Valentina?”
I scoffed. “Jealous of those unfortunates? Hardly.”
He glowered. Finally, a negative reaction to one of my comments. So, women were his weakness. Clearly Enzo wanted me to be impressed with the number of conquests he could boast. Even if I had been foolish enough to be impressed—and I wasn’t—I refused to give him the satisfaction.
“You are not merely dull,” he said. “Your reputation precedes you. So I know that you are master manipulator. A venomous liar.”
To emphasize my indifference to his accusations, I yawned, placing a hand over my mouth politely. “That’s hardly news. All men believe at some point that a woman is manipulating them.”
“Why do you think that is?” he asked.
“Long ago, I would have flattered myself and said our intelligence and ability to survive confounds you so it makes you suspicious,” I said.
“Now? What do you think now?”
“I think it is because men like to listen to themselves talk and no one else,” I said plainly.
“Women are quite clear, and yet, you refuse to hear what has been said. You choose to believe the opposite of what we say because you insist on overcomplicating us so you don’t have to do anything.
Accusing us of manipulation is a way for you to shirk your responsibility. ”
Even my father had stopped listening to me. This engagement was proof that what I wanted no longer mattered to him.
“You are frighteningly perceptive,” he said, only in that sardonic tone, it didn’t sound like a compliment.
“One of my many talents.”
“Are you trying to pretend that your reputation is false? That you’re not a manipulator? That you’re some sort of innocent?”
“I’m not in the habit of warning my enemies that they’re falling into a trap,” I supplied. “Perhaps I’m being completely forthright. Perhaps I am a liar. But since I have no interest in being in your good graces, I don’t care what you think of me.”
“Most brides want their fiancés to think highly of them,” he pointed out.
That word, fiancé, unnerved me. It made this arrangement far too real. This engagement was no longer my father’s command—it was a tangible thing. I clasped my hands tightly, suddenly knocked off balance by that single word.
“I’m not most brides,” I managed to fling out against the tightening in my chest.
“No, but you are my bride,” he said possessively.
Controlling bastard. He really did think that this forced engagement meant he owned me.
I could feel the hatred welling up inside me. A volcanic, all-consuming emotion that made me want to bridge the divide between us so that I could wring his neck. No one owned me, least of all the De Lucas.
I was so angry that I felt my sharp, manicured nails digging into the palm of my hand. Biting back a cry of pain, I unclasped my hands, balling them up into fists at my side. Lifting my chin defiantly, I said, “You haven’t proposed, and I haven’t agreed. Therefore, I am not your bride.”
“You expect me to get down on one knee to ask you?” Enzo shook his head, seeming to find the very idea ridiculous.
Any man would die to have me, I wanted to say. But that sort of statement would sound petulant, and he would know how easily he had gotten under my skin.
“I wouldn’t expect a gesture that civilized from the likes of you,” I retorted, though the thought of him bending the knee almost made me smile.
In response, he reached into his jacket and retrieved a ring box. With one fluid movement he popped it open and held the box out to me, revealing the dazzling diamond ring inside.
“In that case, I don’t need to ask for your hand, Valentina,” he said bluntly, taking the ring out and returning the empty box to his inner pocket.
Before I could object, Enzo grabbed hold of my left hand and started to slide the glittering band onto my ring finger.
The sudden, unexpected contact sent a thrilling heat down my arm and then through my entire body.
I trembled at his touch, though I doubted that he meant for it to have any sort of effect on me.
But it did have an effect, the heat making my temperature soar so quickly I could feel the sweat on my back, the silk of my gown clinging to my flushed skin as he commanded my entire body without noticing.
“You brought an engagement ring?” I demanded, angrily snatching my hand out of his grasp to look down at the ring. I hated that I could still feel the heat of his fingers on my skin.
“Don’t get too excited,” he cautioned. “I had an assistant choose the priciest ring in the jewelry store. Wasn’t exactly from the heart.”
“You have no heart,” I snapped.
“How good of you to notice,” he bit out.
But if I didn’t know any better, I could swear that he sounded wounded.
As if deep down, he actually cared what I thought of him.
Maybe that signaled that unlike me, he wanted this engagement to work.
If Enzo wanted a successful marriage, then perhaps this setup wasn’t some sort of trick.
Perhaps my father had done the impossible—managed to get an actual truce with the De Lucas.
No. I shook those thoughts aside. That was exactly what Enzo would want me to believe.
He would want to lull me into a false sense of security so that I would let my guard down.
My father might had decided to trust Don De Luca’s motives, but I didn’t.
And since Enzo was Don De Luca’s emissary, I couldn’t trust him either.
Even if their desire for this marriage between the families was genuine, there was always an angle with them.
The whole family was treacherous, and I would remain suspicious until the bitter end.
“Now that you have my ring,” he continued, leaning in close enough for me to catch the intoxicating scent of his cologne. The same scent I had detected in the hallway outside the opera box. It reminded me of brandy, leather, and expensive aftershave. “I have a question for you.”
Again, I scoffed, letting out an irritated breath as I rolled my eyes. “Go ahead and ask.”
I really shouldn’t have given my assent to his question. Because the question he posed next was so vulgar and insulting that I really did almost slap him in response.
Enzo granted me an arrogant smile. Cold yet triumphant, as if he had snared me in a trap. “When would do you want to consummate our relationship? Before we marry, or shall we be traditional and wait until our wedding night?”