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Lucille practically glows under his attention, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“I was just telling Audrey that I wanted to get to the arena early tonight,” Gio explains, still holding Lucille’s hand. “I’d like to introduce her to Ben Mitchell before the fight. Give her a chance to meet the man who’s going to make Vega Promotions a household name.”

“Oh, what an excellent idea!” Lucille claps her hands together like he’s just suggested something brilliant instead of a simple introduction. “Audrey, isn’t that wonderful?”

“Wonderful,” I echo flatly.

Lucille either doesn’t notice my lack of enthusiasm or chooses to ignore it. “We should get you upstairs to change then. You’ll want to look perfect for such an important evening.”

“That’s a great idea,” Gio agrees, his dark eyes scanning me from head to toe in a way that makes my skin prickle with discomfort. “Wear the red dress I sent over. The one from Milan.”

It’s not a suggestion. It’s a command, delivered with that same easy authority he used with Maria. The red dress in question is currently hanging in my closet with the tags still on. It’s skintight and screams “look at what belongs to me” rather than anything I’d choose for myself.

“Of course,” I say, because what else can I say?

Lucille is already moving toward the door, clearly expecting me to follow. “We’ll be down in thirty minutes,” she tells Gio. “Will that give you enough time to finish your calls?”

“Perfect.” He settles into one of the leather chairs like he owns it, already reaching for his phone again. “Take your time, ladies. I want my girl looking absolutely stunning tonight.”

The possessiveness in his voice makes something cold settle in my stomach.

Lucille ushers me out of the library and toward the main staircase, I catch a glimpse of Gio through the partially open door. He’s already back on his phone, speaking in rapid Italian to whoever’s on the other end.

“You’re so lucky, darling,” Lucille says as we climb the stairs. “Giovanni is such a thoughtful man. Always thinking of ways to include you in his world.”

Include me. As if I have any choice in the matter.

“Yes,” I murmur. “So thoughtful.”

The irony burns like acid in my throat. But as we reach the second floor and I catch sight of myself in the hallway mirror, I wonder how much longer I can keep this up.

In my bedroom, she goes straight to my walk-in closet while I sit heavily on the edge of my bed. The engagement ring catches the light, sending rainbow fractures across the white comforter. Three carats of perfect clarity that feels like a shackle around my finger.

“This one,” Lucille says, emerging with a sleek red dress. “It’s sophisticated but not too conservative. Gio has excellent taste. Perfect for tonight.”

I take the dress without comment and disappear into my bathroom to change. When I emerge, Lucille is sitting in the velvet chair by my vanity, watching me with calculating eyes.

“You know,” she says casually, “you don’t have to come home tonight.”

I freeze in the middle of zipping the dress. “What?”

“Gio has that beautiful penthouse downtown. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to have you stay over.” She picks up my jewelry box, selecting a pair of diamond earrings. “You are engaged, after all.”

“Lucille!”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’m not a prude, Audrey.” She stands and approaches me with the earrings. “It’s only natural for an engaged couple to want to spend alone time together.”

The way she says it makes my skin crawl. As if she’s discussing the weather instead of essentially pimping out her own stepdaughter.

“I’m not ready for that,” I say firmly, taking the earrings from her hands.

“When will you be ready? You’re getting married in three months.” She smooths a hand over my hair. “It’s time to start acting like his wife.”

I want to scream that I’ll never be ready. That the thought of Gio’s hands on me makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.That I gave my virginity to a stranger in San Diego because even a one-night stand felt more real than this engagement ever will.

Instead, I put on the earrings and check my reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll think about it,” I lie.