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Instead, a female voice slices through. It's sharp and grating. I turn, eyeing her.Alanna. She’s sprawled on the leather couch, red dress clinging to her curves, legs crossed, lips pursed. “You’re really marrying her, Enzo?” she says, her words dripping coldness. “Some Rossi slut?”
“What the fuck are you doing in my study?” I demand.
She shrugs a shoulder sensuously, drawing fleeting attention to it. I return my gaze to her.
“What the hell do you think you're doing, coming in here unannounced? You must want to die.”
“You say that now, but it's another matter entirely when you want to fuck.”
I ignore her, returning my gaze to the window. She's not worth my time.
“So, it's true you're marrying her?”
I say nothing. She’s been in my bed plenty, always willing, but she’s nothing to me. Never was. “It’s business,” I say, voice flat, taking a sip of whiskey.
“Don’t make it more.” Her eyes narrow, and she stands, slinking over, hips swaying like she’s putting on a show. “Business?” she purrs, pressing close, hands sliding up my chest. “What about us?”
Alanna had always been sensible. It's a shame she let my sex-based attention for her get into her head. Now, she's just plain stupid. I grab her wrists, rough, and shove her back. “There’s nous,” I snap, my voice cold. “You were a fuck, Alanna. That’s it.”
Her face twists viciously, but she doesn’t quit. She leans in, her lips brushing my jaw. Her perfume is cloying. It's sharp and cheap. “You don’t mean that,” she whispers, fingers tugging at my shirt, trying to pull me in.
Goddammit.
Scenarios like this is why I make sure to explain in details through the contracts they sign that the only thing I want from them for is a good fuck, some few good times, nothing more. Feelings and attachment had always been out of it.
I’m about to push her off when the door bangs open, and Serafina strides in.
Fucking hell.
She’s a vision, and it hits me hard in the groin. She's wearing a black dress that hugs her frame, hair dark curls swept back, striking green eyes blazing. I'd tasted that fire in the kiss we shared. My pants are suddenly too tight.
Her gaze lands on Alanna and then me. I see her lips curl, rage flashing across her face. “Keep your whores out of my sight,” she says, her voice cutting like a whip. “I know you're scum of the earth, but I won’t be humiliated.”
Alanna gasps at being called a whore, as if that's not what she is. I don’t correct Serafina. Let her think what she wants—it’s more fun that way. Her anger’s alive. I take in the way her cheeks are flushed, and fuck, it stirs that heat in me, the same pull that made me kiss her, the same pull that had drawn her to me that night. I smirk, indolently leaning against the desk, glass in hand.
“Noted,” I say, voice smooth, watching her eyes flare hotter. “Out,” I say to Alanna, never taking my eyes off Serafina.
Alanna huffs, clearly annoyed at being told off in such a manner, but I don't give a damn. She storms out, her heels clicking loud. Serafina doesn’t budge as she holds my stare, her eyes burning through my skin. But I see the flicker in her eyes, even though she tries to mask it. Her body remembers mine, just like mine does.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” I ask, motioning for her to take a seat. She ignores it.
“I’m here to set terms for this wedding,” she says, crossing her arms. Her tone is businesslike. “And our marriage.” There’s a slight shake in her tone, like she’s fighting to stay composed.
I sip my whiskey, the burn grounding me. She’s close now, close enough I catch her scent—jasmine. It's crisp and heady. My blood hums, that attraction roaring back, tugging me toward her like a tide. I keep my face blank. “Terms?” I say, raising a brow, setting the glass down. “Sure. Let’s hear them.”
She steps closer, heels snapping on the hardwood, and pulls a folded paper from her purse. “First, the ceremony’s small. Family only. No press, no circus.”
I grunt, shaking my head. That's one term I can't agree with.
She eyes me warily. “What?”
“The wedding ceremony will be how you want it. But, the reception will be how I want it. I'm assuming you saw the preparations getting underway when you came in. That's the reception. I want all the fanfare attached to weddings.”
She makes a small sound in her throat, as if to oppose. I hold out my hand and she glares at me for trying to shut her up. I'm not fazed. Maybe I should kiss her again.
“I shouldn't be explaining this to you, Fina, but airing the event as far and wide as we can boosts morale. It shows that our families have put aside our differences and decided to come together as one.”
I grit my teeth as the words leave my mouth. There's no putting aside our differences… yet. For all I know, I could bow out of this whole hoax and it's back to prepping for war. And we sure as hell aren't coming together as one. I continue, “anyway, all I'm saying is we're going to have to come to a compromise because I won't agree to that term.”