Chapter Seven
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Isabella
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I don't understand how they got my father out of Naples so quickly, but here he is, and I can't stop hugging him. He looks as if he's aged a hundred years. And I thought he was going to say, "It's fine. We'll lose everything, but we'll have each other." I was wrong.
My father broke down and begged me to help him, with tears in his eyes, which means I was back to getting one of the Onyx heads to marry me.
According to my father, he was released the day before, as the Onyx heads demanded. But I only saw them today, which means how did they know?
I'm not given much time to ponder the question, not when my whole family is celebrating the return of my father and my imminent marriage to one of the heads of the Onyx Empire, which will put us back in business.
They all have absolute confidence in my ability to snag a husband.
Madame Celina would wholeheartedly disagree.
After being thanked for the millionth time by all my aunts and uncles and cousins, and especially my parents, for saving us, I make my way home, straight into a shower, then bed, and I sleep like the dead well into the afternoon.
I don't waste any time. As soon as I'm up, I make arrangements to meet them individually.
I get their personal details from their PA, who had obviously been cleared to give them out to me, since she was very eager and gave me nearly six ways to contact them.
I think a message on their personal phones will do the trick.
I work something out. Maybe a hotel. No.
I need to be in my own domain. So I decide on sending them invitations for drinks at my apartment.
My invitation includes details of the length of their visit.
"Five minutes," I say in my invitation, "is all I need from each of them, and I promise one of you will be sorely tempted to propose. "
Further instructions from Madame Celina say they'll experience a rush of intense lust for me, but I must cut it short after a little kiss or two.
The potion needs to warm up their blood, and that takes about a day to two days.
During that time, I will remain on their mind with such brutal intensity that the next time they see me, they'll immediately drop down on their knees and propose.
If all it took was a potion, why would any woman fiddle around with her smile and her eyes?
They respond personally and immediately.
Since I won't be physically trying to seduce them, thanks to the potion I purchased from Madame Celina, I do try to look my best. The black dress I slip into after an hour-long shower is sleek, slinky, and shiny.
I do my hair and makeup with care, and man, do I look like someone who could seduce the socks off someone. In reality, I can't, but I love the illusion of it all.
Except as the time nears, my nerves just get more and more rattled.
It's okay. Five minutes. One drop in this drink. Proposal.
Lorenzo arrives first. My breath catches in my throat at the sight of him. He is perfection itself. A dangerous mix of male beauty and danger.
"Lorenzo," I say, and my voice is a whisper, not that I consciously wanted it to be a whisper.
"Isabella," he says my name like a command for me to get onto my knees for him. Okay, Larson, I chastise myself.
I want to make small talk, but with him just looking at me, stripping me of my clothes without permission, I falter and hand him his drink.
"There you go," I say and immediately take a sip of mine, hoping he'll do the same, kiss me, and be gone. My body can't stand being this close to him.
He takes a deep sip. "Good boy," I almost say out loud. For a moment, he frowns at me. Then at the glass. Then he loosens his tie.
Then his mouth crashes into mine before I can even catch my breath.
His kiss isn't gentle. It's raw and demanding, and as authoritative as he is.
He uses one hand to fist my hair and the other to pull me closer roughly.
I shudder against him. His tongue slips into my mouth, hot, as he dominates every part of me.
I struggle to stand on my own two feet and melt against his chest, my nipples tight and aching under my dress.
My thighs press together, but it doesn't help.
I'm soaked. Every time his tongue strokes mine, a maniacal pulse of need floods through me.
He slips his thigh between mine, pressing against the wetness of my drenched panties. Can he feel how wet I am through the fabric that separates us?
Oh my god. Lorenzo Costa is actually kissing me. In real life. But then I remember why he's kissing me, and suddenly everything stills inside me. I push at his chest, and he lets me slip out of his mouth.
I search my brain for what Madame Celina said.
"Did you like that?" I ask softly. Whoa, my voice is raspy and unintentionally sexy.
In answer, he tries to grab me again, but I move back.
"Good night, Lorenzo. Your five minutes is up," I say, and no one is more surprised than I am when I make it to the door on my own two legs without folding like a piece of spaghetti.
Lorenzo doesn't say anything, but there's raw suspicion in his gaze when he walks out of my apartment.