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“Cortez…” I straighten my spine and hold his gaze firmly, “focus on what’s important and stop worrying about my woman. I have men on her as well.”
He nods in understanding, rising from the leather chair opposite me, getting ready to make his exit.
“Keep a tab on her from now on.” He lifts his eyes to meet mine. “I want to know every single person she speaks to.”
“And Cortez?” I call, and he turns around to meet my unflinching gaze, “Get the most beautiful red dress you can find, along with a pair of shoes that would match. Deliver it personally to Aria's room when she returns from work.”
I would have done it myself, but I don’t think I can effectively get a taste of what a woman almost half my age would love to wear. Cortez is younger. He’ll be able to figure something out.
He doesn’t say anything but nods. I reach into my drawer to fetch out a pen and paper, then scribble the words, “Dinnertonight, at one of my private residences. Be ready at 7,” and then hand the paper over to him.
“Make sure you include it in the package and get it to her as soon as possible.”
I don’t miss the way his brow arcs tentatively, but he still says nothing. Kudos to his unquestionable loyalty, but he’s not in any place to argue my orders.
I lean back into my chair as the sounds from his shoes recede into the distance.
I can only imagine how sinful she would look in whatever dress Cortez would get her, just like the first day we met. As much as I try not to be distracted by thoughts about her, I find myself trying to picture how she would look in my arms with her hair cascading down the length of her back.
Those wide eyes staring innocently back at me, those plush lips blazing red, parted with desire. A groan escapes my lips as shivers run down my spine.
I decided that tonight, once and for all, I would quench this insatiable thirst that has threatened to tear me apart since the first time I crushed my lips on hers. Tonight, I will satiate this hunger I have had for her since she moved into my mansion−this curiosity, desire, or whatever the fuck it is that is taking all my attention away, and then… then I can go back to meticulously taking care of my business without any distractions.
I grab my suit jacket and drape it over my shoulder. I will make all the preparations myself and make sure everything falls together seamlessly.
This time around, it will be perfect.
This time around, I will cross all rivers of doubts and oceans of uncertainty to finally make hermine.
Chapter eight
Aria
The dress lay shimmering under the dim light of the room like a cruel taunt.
It drapes over my fingers as I stoop to pick it up, a silky little thing with straps and sparkling crystal embellishments.
Elio Donatelli wants me to put this on?I nearly scream at the man still standing in front of my bedroom door, arms crossed behind his back.
This is the exact reason I’ve not left my room since I moved into this godforsaken mansion. I was so sure Elio would want to shove me around the moment he got the chance, and I’ve been doing everything to stay the fuck out of his way. Not to mention, it’s a bit difficult adapting to my new reality as a mafia lord’s pretend fiancée.
The fact that he would cowardly send his second-in-command over to deliver this worthless piece of clothing to me is even more insulting than the idea of spending the night with him.
What the hell is wrong with this man?
A part of me doesn’t even want to lay hands on the dress, as if the moment I lay it over my skin, I will become complicit in this madness.
The cut of the neckline plunges way deeper than any dress I have ever worn. Whoever picked this must have done so with the intention of reducing me to an object for display. The nerve of these people.
I have only been in Elio’s orbit for a short time, yet he has managed to successfully waddle his way into every part of my life, seizing control over me like I am some pawn in his little game.
“God!” It escapes my lips as I slap my palm against my forehead, wishing to open my eyes and see that I am lying comfortably in my bed, and all of this is only a nightmare.
Unfortunately, the only nightmare I’m in is the one where my father is lying unconscious in the hospital, and I have no other person−no one else other than Elio Donatelli to help keep him safe until he’s better.
“Goddammit!” I mutter under my breath, staring at the two fancy boxes, one containing the dress and the other a pair of gorgeous golden heels.
I yank the door back open and tell this Cortez guy, who seems to be fixated on my bedroom’s doorway, “I’ll be ready in 20 minutes.”