Page 67 of The Temptation

“Jesus, Lucia,” I wheeze, picking up my napkin and wiping my mouth. “You can’t just say stuff like that while I’m trying to breathe.”

She shrugs, feigning innocence. “It was a legitimate question. Maybe next time, you’ll be more prepared.”

I stare at her, still trying to figure out if I’m impressed, terrified, or both.

I’m locked away in my room again like a coward, staring down at the shopping bags I came home with earlier, still debating whether I should go through with this sham of a wedding or not.

The worst part? Deep down, I want it. I want to be tied to that maddening, fucking woman for the rest of my life.

I don’t know if that makes me soft or borderline insane.

Life certainly wouldn’t be dull with a woman like Lucia Rossi in it. But what happens when Salvatori is caught, and the threat’s gone? That’s what weighs on me the most.

Can I really walk away from her like she never meant anything to me … like she doesn’t already?

Because after that kiss we shared earlier, I’m not sure I’ll make it out of this mess untouched. Not emotionally. Not where it counts.

When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I slip it out and glance down at the screen. I inwardly groan when I read the message I just received. It’s like divine intervention.

Father Flannery: I managed to pull some strings and have everything you’ll need to go ahead. When and where is this marriage taking place?

I suppose I have my answer, but before I can reply, I should probably make sure that Lucia is on board with my plan. She may not want to marry me, even if it’s just a strategic move.

She may act like she’s obsessed with me at times, but it could simply be the case that she wants something she can’t have. I know that feeling all too well.

I drop my phone onto the mattress beside me and reach for two of the bags as I stand. I’m not sure why I feel so nervous when my hand wraps around the door handle, but I suck it up, exit my room, and go in search of my future wife.

I don’t have to go far. I find her in her usual spot, stretched out on the lounge in the main room, reading. I still have my reservations about giving her that damn Kindle, but it makes her happy, so there’s that.

“You got a minute?” I ask, coming to a stop in front of her.

Her eyes move from the screen in her hands to my face. “Sure, what’s up?”

I stand there frozen for a moment, blinking down at her.

Man the fuck up, De Luca, I silently berate myself.Give her the damn dress and tell her the plan.

Reaching into the first bag, I pull out the long, white rectangle box and hold it out to her.

“What’s this?” she asks, sitting up and placing her Kindle down beside her.

“I told you I was going to bring you back a surprise.”

“Oh, so you’ve decided I’ve behaved myself now?” she asks suspiciously. “You’re no longer claiming that one of your men walked in here healthy, and left a few hours later, a heart attack on legs?”

I bark out a laugh, because I swear this woman amuses me to no end. I never know what’s going to come out of that mouth of hers, but it’s always entertaining.

“Just open the damn box,” I grumble, trying to keep my expression neutral, but the way her eyes light up as she removes the lid and peels back the tissue paper nearly undoes me.

She lifts the dress slowly, letting the soft white fabric spill over her hands. It’s simple, intentionally so. No lace, no embellishments, no dramatic flair. Just clean lines and quiet elegance. Effortless and timeless. Just like the woman holding it.

The smooth satin catches the light in that subtle, expensive-looking way. The dress features thin straps, a straight neckline, and a hem that falls just above her knees. Modern, minimal, and undeniably her.

She looks up at me, eyes wide.

“You bought me a dress?”

“I did. I chose it myself.”