Page 22 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
A trembling breath slips from my lips, and I sway toward him like a drunk.
He leans in farther until his lips almost touch mine. “Go to Santori. Make your deal,” he says before pulling away.
I drop my gaze to the floor, disappointment niggling at my chest, though I tell myself that I’m simply irritated because it means I won’t be able to get close enough to kill him any time soon.
“Thank you for the advice.” I turn and leave the room, pulling it closed behind me. As the latch clicks into place, I release a long breath. I don’t know what I’m doing or why anymore. I need to prioritize my motivations.
I watch Sasha pull away, the wheels of the SUV spitting gravel everywhere as he floors it out the gate.
I anxiously smooth the material of my dress down and make my way through the lobby. The enormous mirror throws my reflection back at me, making me pause. From the heels on my feet to the tight twist of my hair, I look just like my sister. Presentable. Powerful. For a moment, I almost mourn the loss of myself because I realize there’s not a trace of the old Adelina Ricci to be found. There’s something sad about that.
I pace the lobby, my heels clicking over the terracotta tile until my feet begin to hurt. Finally, I hear a car pull up in the driveway. The seconds seem to tick by perilously slow until the silence in the house feels oppressive. I count two sets of footsteps before the doorbell rings. When I swing the door open, Matteo waits for me. A wide smile splits his lips as his eyes subtly sweep my body. He looks so handsome, and I have to wonder how he doesn’t already have a wife. Another man lingers behind him, his stern expression and distinct lack of interest marking him as security.
“Matteo. Come in.”
As he steps into the foyer, I notice, for the first time, the way he carries himself. Like a man who knows he holds all the cards but feels no need to voice it. I’ve always gotten the sense that the Santori family was much more than they seemed.
I lead him and his bodyguard through the house and into my father’s office. I could have chosen any room; there are plenty that would match the casual setting in which he held out first meeting, but I brought him here. As I sit in my father’s office chair, I can almost feel his hand on my shoulder, guiding me. Matteo takes the seat across from me, deftly flicking the button on his jacket until the material falls apart, revealing a matching charcoal grey waistcoat with a cobalt blue tie. He’s every inch the suited and booted businessman, dressed to intimidate. His eyes drift to the painting that hangs on the wall behind me. A small smile tilts his lips as he leans back in the chair and props an ankle on his knee.
“All business today, I see.”
I brace my elbows on the old, scarred wood of my father’s desk. “This is a business arrangement, is it not?”
His eyes narrow. “You look good in that seat. Your father would be proud, though they are big shoes to fill.”
“Luckily, I don’t have to. My sister does a good enough job.”
The condescending smile is barely there, but I see it, and I know he thinks Gabi is weak. By now, news of her getting kidnapped by Enrique is well known. He made her look weak but worse, he made her a fool.
“Have you thought about my offer?” Matteo asks.
“Yes.”
He lifts a brow. “And what have you decided?”
“I will agree to your arrangement, but with my own condition in place.”
He shifts, placing both feet flat on the floor and leaning forward enough to prop his elbows on his knees. “Well, I’m all ears.”
“I don’t want an official betrothal. No big announcement. Only you and I will know the true details of our arrangement. It will be…as if we were dating.”
He inhales a deep, audible breath, his expression tightening. “That won’t work. I need it known publically that we are bound to each other, in a form, at least.”
“Why?”
“Because if I can put you in the Bianchi seat, then other suitors are sure to pursue that power. How can I be sure that you won’t simply pick a better option?”
My temper spikes along with my pulse. I square my shoulders and meet his gaze. “Do you think I sell myself so easily, Matteo?”
“I don’t mean–”
I shove to my feet, slamming my palms down on the desk. “My father was a good man, a loving father, and a strong leader, and yet he sold me without my knowledge. In the blink of an eye, my father was dead, and I was promised to the man who had killed him. I have run and been hunted across the globe. I have accepted my fate and vowed to get revenge. I have married and been forced to do unspeakable things with the man responsible for his death, and I have killed him in turn.” My breaths fall from my lips in rapid pants. “I will not be bound to another man, and I will not sell myself like an over-used cow at market, as I was before.”
