Книга - The Marriage Clause

The Marriage Clause
Alexx Andria


She can’t be tied downUnless he can persuade her it’s worth it…!Katherine Oliver is not interested in getting married. The only problem is she can’t keep her hands off gorgeous billionaire Luca Donato, who wants to put a ring on it! So she puts Luca to the test in an X-rated battle of wits—to persuade her that their nights of passion can turn into something more!







She can’t be tied down

Unless he can persuade her it’s worth it!

Katherine Oliver is not interested in getting married. The only problem is, she can’t keep her hands off gorgeous billionaire Luca Donato, who wants to put a ring on it! So she puts Luca to the test in an X-rated battle of wits—to persuade herself that their nights of passion can turn into something more!

“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”

—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author


ALEXX ANDRIA is a USA TODAY bestselling romance author who writes about bad boys with a tough exterior but a soft, warm heart deep down. She loves sweet but dirty romance with lots of witty banter—and, of course, sizzling scenes in the bedroom…or kitchen…or wherever they happen to end up—and a guaranteed HEA.

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The Marriage Clause

Alexx Andria






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07118-5

THE MARRIAGE CLAUSE

© 2018 Kimberly Sheetz

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Dedicated to the dreamers who have the tenacity to become doers.

Every success story started at the beginning of a long road.

Don’t be afraid to take that first step...and keep walking.


Contents

Cover (#ub89f0a61-8082-594a-850a-6efac587293a)

Back Cover Text (#ub41e6aad-a16f-5acf-a6cb-fecb20d12a49)

About the Author (#u9bb4654f-ccdf-5401-a31f-7a2203f2d0a4)

Booklist (#u9df87618-824f-5b50-ad19-0f3a0e72814b)

Title Page (#uf31977ce-7284-5f37-93e9-6ace6430aa2b)

Copyright (#uee393e14-8e85-508b-b894-9b2be0d82130)

Dedication (#u9141ad9c-6ae0-5d25-9733-8c49ba4c3b8c)

CHAPTER ONE (#ud7d53b83-e999-54db-82a6-29a3f7522495)

CHAPTER TWO (#u3c010f09-3cd8-5d6e-a9fc-292f642f08f6)

CHAPTER THREE (#u89546695-64a4-590b-a7f2-e9b399bdbb74)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u3a81adf1-395b-5b26-9610-1ee496807a40)

CHAPTER FIVE (#ucdf17050-a439-594c-90bd-210e8d45ec59)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u36704d03-5952-5d74-ac3b-a1fcfd0985ea)

Luca

MY NAME IS Luca Donato. You may have seen my mug on the cover and in the pages of Forbes, Fortune and the Robb Report, because my family is ridiculously, obscenely rich.

I’m talking Saudi prince–level money.

I could wipe my ass with hundreds for several lifetimes and still not make a dent in the family trust.

My family descends from Italian aristocracy—some royal connections if you go back far enough—and we’ve done well enough with our investments in Donato Inc. to never have to work again if that were our choice.

But unlike some in similar positions, the Donatos haven’t grown soft with privilege. If anything, our wealth has made us harder, hungrier—all about the victory.

We decimate our opponents, and the word no really isn’t part of our vernacular.

In fact, I can’t remember the last time someone refused to cave to my demands.

Until a certain redhead came along.

The one I’d chased to the airport.

Ah, there you are, you gorgeous pain in my ass.

Katherine Cerinda Oliver...my runaway fiancée.

If Katherine had thought to blend in, that spectacular head of burnished auburn hair was her downfall. Stubborn tendrils escaped her messy bun to curl around her delicate jaw, teasing wispy ends that tickled and caused her to rub her nose without thought.

My hands itched to twist in those sweet, silky curls and bury my nose against her skull. Immediate hunger threatened to override my decision to play it cool. The thing was, she was so damn beautiful sometimes all I could do was stare. I’d been a fool to play fast and loose with her heart years ago.

Now I was paying the price.

Our marriage, arranged by our powerful fathers when Katherine was only a girl, was about to be unarranged if my runaway fiancée had her way.

If Katherine had any inkling how difficult the last two years—giving her the space to do her own thing while I focused on the Donato empire—had been for me, maybe she’d be less inclined to hiss at me like a wet cat.

But that didn’t seem likely, given that over the last six months, anytime we were in the same room together Katherine did everything she could to avoid me.

We were supposed to be working toward building a partnership, courting each other, even. But Katherine wouldn’t even sit through a single dinner unless it was insisted upon by my parents.

And now she was running away from me—literally.

I watched unnoticed from the jet bridge, allowing others to go ahead of me to find their seats on the massive commercial plane. I couldn’t remember the last time I flew commercial—preferring the Donato private jet—and I saw little to compel me to do so again.

So she thought she’d gotten away, had she? Believed she’d outsmarted the Donatos by draining her accounts and leaving without notice, paying with cash for every purchase, including her direct flight to the wilds of California.

But as our wedding date loomed—it was set for this spring—and preparations had hit a fever pitch, I’d sensed something was up. My gut feeling only deepened when our last dinner engagement had gone spectacularly sideways and Katherine had practically tripped on her own feet in her haste to get away.

And when your bride-to-be wants nothing to do with you...well, it doesn’t do your ego any favors.

In spite of her bravado, she nibbled at her cuticles in her seat in coach, a habit my mother had never quite managed to drum out of her. As if hearing my mother’s sharp reprimand, Katherine lowered her hand to double-check her seat belt was cinched tight.

Then she trained her attention out the window, though we were still on the ground and there was nothing to see yet.

That hair was her crowning glory. If she’d been playing it smart, she would’ve worn a hat, at the very least, but then, Katherine was a hothead, passionate to a fault and sometimes reckless.

Case in point: her decision to run away before our wedding.

In certain circles, I was considered quite a catch—rich, handsome, fit—but Katherine saw only the man who’d broken her heart when he’d been too stupid to realize that a woman like Katherine came along only once in a lifetime.

I had a week to prove that I’d changed. Starting now.

I peeled away from the attendants’ area to make my way to my wayward fiancée.

“Leaving without me?” I tsked, startling her with the silky censure in my tone.

“Luca,” she gasped in open dismay, her brow furrowing as her nose wrinkled, as if she’d just stepped in something putrid. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, love.”

“Don’t call me that,” she warned with a glower that could flash freeze meat. “God, you’re like gum on my shoe. Go away.”

Not a chance. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I don’t want you here,” she answered, cutting me a hard look.

I stared pointedly at her ringless finger, hating that she seemed to the world an available woman, when she belonged to me. “Where’s my grandmother’s ring?” I asked, moving slightly so other passengers could get past me, but I was already causing a logjam.

“It’s too heavy and it’s gaudy.”

“It may be gaudy, but there’s a lot of history in that ring,” I said. “Once we’re married, you’ll only have to wear it on special occasions or when we dine with the family. Mother has particular expectations about gifted family heirlooms.”

“I’m never wearing it,” Katherine returned flatly, “because I’m not marrying you.”

Her declaration hit me like a punch to the groin. She’d never outright stated she wanted to call off the wedding, but I should’ve seen it coming.

“That’s a big decision to make. I hardly think making it when you’re angry is a good idea,” I warned, glancing at the people trying to push past me.

“Luca, you’re blocking the way,” Katherine said, embarrassed. “Just go home and I’ll call you when I land.”

“Sorry, that’s not going to happen. Where you go, I go.”

Before Katherine could hit me with a retort, the sharply dressed attendant made her way to us, her expression polite yet annoyed that I was standing in the aisle as she said, “I need you to take your seat, sir. Perhaps I can help?”

Katherine was really going to be pissed, but it couldn’t be helped. “Yes, actually, my bride-to-be seems to have gotten the wrong seat assignment. I was just sharing with her that we’ve been upgraded. Can you help us out?”

Relieved to find the fix so simple, the attendant smiled and looked over my tickets, her expression breaking into a wider, more accommodating smile. “Of course, Mr. Donato.” She gestured to Katherine. “I am so sorry for the mix-up. Your seats are in first class. We’ll get that squared away right now.”

“Excellent,” I murmured, smiling apologetically at Katherine, knowing she wouldn’t risk a scene.

“Upgraded?” Katherine’s gaze flitted from the attendant to me, indecision marring her beautifully expressive face. Tiny freckles danced across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheekbones because she refused to wear enough sunscreen when she went out. She wanted to tell me to shove my ticket up my ass, but I knew she wouldn’t, not with so many people watching.

“Miss, if you’ll just come with me,” the attendant prompted, gesturing again, and I knew Katherine wanted to murder me. I’d take the risk.

“Fine,” Katherine finally relented with a sour look she didn’t even try to disguise, but I didn’t care. I needed more privacy—and legroom—than coach could provide for what I had to say to my runaway fiancée.

In a world filled with daisies, Katherine was a wild blood rose—willful and breathtaking yet dangerous with sharp thorns.

But even roses needed tending.

And Katherine had broken her contract by running. I could be a dick and just drag her off the plane, reminding her that our marriage was a business arrangement that neither of our fathers would allow to be dissolved, but that tactic would only make things worse between us.

“Sweetheart,” I murmured, settling my hand on the small of Katherine’s back as we fell in behind the attendant. I caught her subtle stiffening at my touch and I prepared myself for an uphill battle, dragging a wagon filled with cement—oh, and the wagon was probably on fire.

Katherine gave the attendant a tight smile and lowered into the luxury seat. “I can’t believe you. How dare you chase me down like a fox after a rabbit. I’m not your fucking property,” she said, crossing her arms and skewering me with the heat in her eyes. “How did you find me?”

I paused, accepting a champagne flute from the attendant, then answered, “Alana told me. She also said you quit your job at Franklin and Dodd.” She’d been working there for over a year.

“Damn you, Alana,” Katherine muttered, exhaling an irritated breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have told her where I was going.”

“True enough, but why did you quit your job?” I asked with a frown. “I thought you were doing well in their marketing department.”

Katherine ignored my query and simply shook her head, disappointed in her friend’s loose lips. I couldn’t blame her, but she should’ve known better. I’d never understood their friendship to begin with. Alana was the stereotypical rich girl, raised with wealth and privilege. She was somewhat clueless and out of touch.

I thought Katherine kept Alana grounded, but I had no idea what benefit Alana provided Katherine.

Katherine rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the furrows in her brow. “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered before leaning back against the headrest, her jaw tense. “I should’ve just bailed and not told anyone.”

“Probably.”

She narrowed her gaze. “Thank you, peanut gallery. Nobody asked you.”

“Does your father know?” I asked.

She cut me a short look. “Of course not. He wouldn’t understand any more than you would.”

I swallowed the insult of being lumped in with her blowhard of a father, but in truth, while Bernard Oliver had more in common with my own father, Giovanni, I was nothing like either man.

“Why California?” I asked, settling in for the long flight, trying to make conversation.

“Because it was on my bucket list. And it was far enough away from everything associated with my life in New York. And yes, that includes you.”

I barked a short laugh even though I was starting to bristle at her constant jabs. “So you picked San Francisco in January? I hope you packed warm clothes, because you’re going to freeze your pretty little ass off.”

“I’m well aware of the weather. I’m not made of glass—I’m sure I’ll survive. Besides, nothing could be worse than a New York winter.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The marine layer creates a thick fog that eats into your bones. I think I prefer snow.”

“The point was to get away from you. Anyplace would’ve been preferable as long as you weren’t there. Even a swamp. And before you start pointing out that I’ve never been to a swamp, so I can’t make that assumption, just stop before you start. You’ve screwed up my entire travel plan, and I’m really not in the mood to hear your mansplaining bullshit.”

I knew her well enough to recognize that she wasn’t playing.

“You know, I would’ve thought two years was long enough to lose your quills, but if anything, you’ve only gotten worse,” I said, reluctantly ditching any hope I might’ve had that we could pick up where we’d left off all those years ago—back when she didn’t think I was the devil. “Jesus, Katherine, I thought I’d given you plenty of space to do your own thing so we could make this work when the time came to marry.”

She stared me down, shaking her head as if I were an idiot. “That right there is why I could never marry you, Luca. You gave me space? We broke up because you were caught messing around, and to add insult to injury, your actions were plastered all over one of those stupid paparazzi rags. You broke my heart and humiliated me.”

“I told you that was a misunderstanding.”

“And I told you, you’re full of shit. I won’t be one of those women who simper at your feet and believe whatever nonsense you happen to be dishing out.”

I bit my tongue. Arguing with her about the past wasn’t going to solve anything, but I did point out, “I never asked you to be that woman,” because it was true. A simple and vapid woman would bore me to tears. In all the years I’d known Katherine, boring was never a word I’d use to describe her.

That photo had been unfortunate, but I’d learned a valuable lesson. Don’t let cute starlets sit on your lap when you’ve had too many whiskeys and not enough food. The paparazzi had snapped the pic because of the girl, not because of me, but it’d sold quite a few tabloids. It was pretty condemning, considering she’d been kissing me...and she was topless.

My father had been outraged, my mother had been mortified and I’d lost the woman of my dreams.

In all, it’d been a shit day.

“Why’d you wait until now to call off the wedding?” I asked. “Seems if you were still pissed about that incident, you would’ve called it all off before this dramatic exit.”

Katherine’s blue eyes flashed with ire at being called dramatic. She couldn’t help it—it was the red hair. The Scottish heritage was hard to tamp down. “Because you aren’t the only one with obligations. I wanted to call it off then, but my father interceded.”

By interceded, it was a fair guess he threatened to cut her off if she didn’t go through with the wedding. Bernard believed in brute force to get what he wanted. When our households were joined together, the connections in the business world would grow exponentially. An arranged marriage today wasn’t all that different from an arranged marriage back in medieval times.

It was all about the power exchange, the advancement of a family’s reach and influence.

“I wasn’t given much of a choice. I was a semester away from getting my degree, and I wasn’t going to let everything I’d worked for go down the drain because you chose to be a jackass.” She drew a breath and blew it out, adding with a shake of her head, “Honestly, I thought I could go through with it, have a marriage in name only, but these last six months... I realized I can’t. And I won’t. I’m not going to live my life to someone else’s standards. So...I’m out.”

“It won’t be that simple,” I told her, distracted by a whiff of her hair as she purposefully turned away and a wash of memories hit me hard.

Hemlock trees and sage, the heat of summer, coconut-scented sunscreen mingling with her signature white-citrus-and-cucumber body spray and the feel of her beneath me as I took her virginity.

I could still feel her tight wetness clasped around me, the way she shuddered and gasped as I gently pushed myself deep inside, breaching her lithe body for the first time.

She’d been eighteen; I’d been twenty-two.

The way she’d cried out, her teeth worrying the full pink flesh of her bottom lip, seconds before she came on my cock, her sweet sex clenching around me, greedy for more.

In spite of the slight chill of first class, sweat dampened my forehead as I took a deep swallow of my champagne.

Jesus, now was not the time to think of that memory if I wanted to keep my head on my shoulders.

“I’m not looking for an easy way out. I just want out,” she said.

Time to move the subject to safer ground. “If I were going to run away, I’d at least pick someplace warm with a secluded beach and a well-stocked bar,” I shared, clearing my throat and my head of the pornographic things I wanted to do to my not-so-sweet bride-to-be. “I mean, San Francisco in winter...kinda crappy.”

“Perhaps if things don’t work out for you being CEO of the Donato empire, you can start a travel agency,” she quipped with a dismissive glance before adding, “I picked San Francisco because I wanted to experience the cultural vibe of a liberal city. Not because I wanted to get a tan on some beach.”

I smothered a grin. She’d always been curious and artsy—a big film buff, Coppola to be specific—so I could understand why the city appealed to her. “Well, that’s good, because the San Francisco beaches smell like dead fish and they’re barely nice to look at, much less lie around on the sand. The homeless are particularly fond of the beaches, as well.”

“I know what you’re doing,” she said, bored. “Trying to scare me off with all your negative press, but I don’t care. It’s time for me to live life on my own terms, and I want to see the West Coast.”

“You could’ve asked me. I would’ve made it happen.”

“I don’t want to ask you or anyone for anything.” She turned to me. “Do you realize it was never my choice where to go to school or even what I would study in college? Your family made all my choices based on what would benefit the Donato name when we married.” She huffed out a breath. “I am more than a doll you can dress up and prop in the corner, waving and smiling as the perfect, uselessly educated housewife. I never even wanted to go into marketing. I wanted to be a veterinarian, remember? But your father deemed my choice of profession inappropriate for a Donato. So the decision was made for me.”

I remembered Katherine’s desire to work with animals. I also remembered my father’s disdain for such a career choice. I should’ve stuck up for her, but I’d remained silent. At the time, I’d had my hands full finishing up my own degree and learning the business at my father’s side. I hadn’t had the spare brain space to fight Katherine’s battle, too.

But still, I regretted not saying something.

Everything she said was true, but it didn’t mean I’d had any say, either. I couldn’t give a shit what degree she had or what career she pursued. Maybe it was my misfortune to have fallen in love with my arranged bride, unlike others in similarly wealthy families that treated marriage alliances as business transactions.

“So, you quit Franklin and Dodd. What’s your plan? Become a vet?”

“Maybe. I don’t know, but when I decide, it’ll be my choice.”

God only knew it would’ve been so much easier if I’d felt nothing for the troublesome redhead. If I’d felt nothing but obligation to produce a kid, I would’ve written off Katherine a long time ago, selected any of the numerous women trying to get that gaudy ring on their finger, put a kid in her belly and moved on with my life.

But I loved her. That was the inescapable truth that made it impossible for me to walk away without one hell of a fight.

“So...did you pack appropriately?”

“Of course I did,” Katherine said, adding sardonically, “Did you?”

“I didn’t pack anything. Whatever I need, I’ll buy new.”

“Of course.” Katherine’s gaze returned to me, accusatory. “I preferred my original seat.”

“No one prefers coach over first class.”

“I do.”

“Was this the entirety of your strategy?” I asked, drawing attention to how poorly she’d planned her getaway. “Liquefy your accounts and then melt into the bohemian life of a hipster on the West Coast?”

“Maybe. As long as whatever I planned was on my own terms, the details were irrelevant.”

“I beg to differ. My family has a significant investment in your welfare. Did you think that if you breached the contract, it would go without some sort of compensation or penalty? My father isn’t going to let this insult pass without consequence.”

Katherine fell silent. I knew she’d given this possibility thought, but she was resolved to follow through. “I’ll have to take the risk,” she finally said.

“You really hate me that much?” I asked, all levity fading from my voice.

It was the minute hesitation that gave her away and filled me with hope—maybe misplaced and wildly irresponsible hope, but hope nonetheless.

Before Katherine could answer, the flight attendant returned with a refill of the champagne. I preferred scotch, but since I’d already started with champagne, I figured it was best not to mix. I needed my head on straight if I was going to find a way to get Katherine to love me again.

“I don’t hate you, Luca,” she said, glancing away. “I just don’t love you any longer.”

I didn’t believe her. One thing I’d learned about human nature was that strong emotion betrayed vulnerabilities. In the last six months, she’d done everything in her power to avoid being alone with me. If there weren’t residual feelings messing with her judgment, she wouldn’t have needed to avoid me.

Maybe I was basing my opinion on my own wild hope, but I believed she still loved me. Somewhere deep down she loved me like I loved her, but she was afraid to trust me again.

I could sense her agitation with her sitting so close to me; her fidgeting fingers gave her away. Memories of growing up around each other, falling in love, having sex...they were all in there, rubbing against the memories that hurt. It was my guess that Katherine was running from every memory between us.

“I know you remember how good it was between us.”

“I try not to live in the past.”

Ouch. “It could be that way again,” I told her. “If you’d just give us a chance.”

She answered with heavy silence.

I tried again. “Katherine—”

“I want out of my contract,” she blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t stutter and you have perfect hearing. Let me out of our marriage contract or I’ll spend the rest of my life embarrassing your family, starting with an exposé on your family that begins with how I was essentially purchased to be your bride.”

She’d thrown down a goddamn gauntlet.

“If you do that, you’d ruin your own family, as well,” I pointed out, narrowing my gaze, trying to gauge if she was bluffing.

“I owe no allegiance to my father. He made this mess—he can deal with the fallout. I was never asked if I wanted to marry into the Donato family, but then, I was only a kid. Who cared what my feelings were, right?”

I knew Katherine had as strained a relationship with her father as I had with mine, but unlike me, Katherine seemed uninterested in gaining her father’s approval.

Resolve shone in her eyes, and I understood the hard line she was willing to draw to be free of anything remotely connected to the Donato name.

Her demand was like a punch to the gut. I’d never expected her to go that far. I could give her the world on a silver platter if she’d only let me, but no, she wanted fucking out.

“You’re willing to go that far to satisfy a bruised ego?”

She shook her head, obviously seeing things differently than me. “You’ll never understand, Luca. That, above all else, is why I can’t marry you. When people show their true colors, it’s best to believe them. And I don’t like your colors.”

My mother would fall over in a perfumed faint if a scandal of this proportion reached her little social circle. My father would lose his temper and bring all the attorneys under our employ down on Katherine’s head for breach of contract. He would ruin her. She had no idea the fire she was playing with.

I’d done this.

I’d turned a sweet, loving girl into a Donato-hating shrew who found me to be the devil.

I couldn’t let Katherine’s broken heart ruin our second chance before we even got started.

It would be ugly.

That blue-eyed gaze slivered, sending spikes through my heart as it raced. In business I was known as a boardroom shark. I could sense the tiniest drop of blood before my opponent even knew he was in trouble. Nothing scared me.

Except the thought of losing Katherine for good.

“Give me a week to change your mind,” I proposed, my gaze pinning hers, willing her to agree to my deal. I needed this to work. “If by the end of the week, you still want to be free...I’ll do what I need to release you from your obligations to the Donato family without penalty, as long as you promise to keep the details of our contract confidential.”

Katherine stared with suspicion, clearly believing my offer was pure crap. “You’re lying. I don’t believe for a second that your family would walk away from an investment.”

She was right, but I planned to win, so the consequence of failure was a nonissue. However, I couldn’t exactly say that without sounding like an arrogant ass. Instead, I said, “This isn’t about an investment—it’s about me and you. Give me a chance to change your mind.”

“I’m serious, Luca. I don’t want to marry you.”

“You’ve made yourself perfectly clear.”

“Then let’s skip the experiment and just call it done. You go your way, I’ll go mine.”

Never. “If you’re so sure your feelings won’t change, where’s the harm in letting me spin my wheels?” While she considered my point, I pressed my agenda, saying, “Give me one week,” because I wasn’t going to stop until she agreed.

The fact was, I loved her. I didn’t want anyone but Katherine.

Now it was up to me to remind her why, once upon a time, she’d loved me, too.


CHAPTER TWO (#u36704d03-5952-5d74-ac3b-a1fcfd0985ea)

Katherine

WAS LUCA ACTUALLY offering me a way out of my contract? Was it that simple? Agree to spend a week with him and at the end he’d let me go?

Offering the deal went against Luca’s nature—he was hardwired to go after the win, no matter the cost.

In business, he was ruthless and vicious. His reputation in certain circles was downright scary, and yet he was offering me an opportunity to walk, free and clear.

My belly trembled at the implication, even as there was the tiniest sliver of hesitation that perhaps I didn’t want to be free.

Of course I wanted to be free. Why else would I have made such a bold move to get away from the Donato family?

Because maybe you wanted him to know heartbreak, too?

I shoved aside that annoying voice that seemed to whisper in my ear at the worst moments. I felt nothing for Luca but contempt. I wasn’t going to hitch myself to someone I couldn’t imagine looking at from across the dining table without wanting to throw the saltshaker at his head.

But even more so, I couldn’t give my heart to someone I couldn’t trust. Giovanni had taught his sons that fidelity was expected of their wives but was not necessary for men. The more I’d gotten to know Giovanni, the more I knew I wanted nothing to do with his family.

Especially after Luca had proved he was nothing more than a chip off Giovanni’s block.

But I knew that if I didn’t at least give Luca the appearance of having a shot at winning me back, he’d never give up, and I didn’t look forward to the idea of Luca chasing me from state to state.

“What would this week together entail?” I asked warily. I knew without his admitting it that he, no doubt, thought if he could get me into bed, I’d melt like chocolate in his hands and stumble over my own feet just to walk down the aisle with him. Not fucking likely. The sex had been good—but had it been freedom good? Yes. I couldn’t even begin to delude myself into thinking otherwise. Sex had been the one thing between us that had worked spectacularly. So the answer was obvious—avoid anything that put our naked bodies in close proximity. A slow smile followed as I tacked on slyly, “What if I said there would be no sex between us?”

He shocked me with an easy shrug, saying, “Then there’s no sex.”

Yeah, right. I barked a short laugh. “I don’t believe you.” Luca needed sex the way the human body needed air.

“You have trust issues, Katherine,” he admonished, as if I didn’t already know he was a man slut who fucked anything that walked. “It’s an unattractive trait in a woman.”

“If I do, I do because of you.”

He exhaled, the subtle twitch in his jaw the only indication of his irritation, but Luca did his best to seem reflective. “I’ve made mistakes. I was young.”

“If that’s your idea of an apology, you suck,” I said.

Donatos didn’t apologize. Every action was deliberate, good or bad. From Luca’s viewpoint, he had nothing to apologize for. I could already hear his argument. Was it his fault that I’d given him my heart before he was ready? Was it his fault that I hadn’t been able to go with him to that stupid yacht party? In Luca’s mind, I’m sure the blame for his mistake landed squarely on my shoulders.

Since our breakup, I’d had time to figure out who I was and what I wanted in my life without Luca’s blinding influence clouding my judgment.

“It’s true, I probably do,” Luca conceded with a modicum of humility that momentarily shocked me. “I can’t say I’ve had a lot of practice, but believe me when I say I’m sorry for hurting you.”

I didn’t want a life with a man who couldn’t take responsibility for his fuckups—and offering a blithe semiapology years later didn’t count.

Where was his apology when it’d happened? When I was broken into pieces, sobbing my heart out, utterly betrayed? My lips pressed together to keep from venting all the frustration that he wouldn’t listen to years ago from vomiting out. Why couldn’t I let it go? Whatever had happened had happened years ago. Live in the now, not the past, as Alana liked to say airily, because she didn’t give two shits about anything deeper than when the newest Prada bag was dropping.

But I wasn’t that way. Okay, sue me—I hold grudges. Deep ones.

Especially when I was made to feel stupid and naive.

And that day, I’d felt dumber than a box of hair for believing that Luca Donato could ever be satisfied with only one woman.

I blinked back hot tears, instantly irritated that Luca still had the power to hurt me, if even in memory. I narrowed my gaze, letting him know that I didn’t trust there was much weight behind his apology, saying, “We’ll see,” and left it at that, grateful the plane had begun to taxi. I needed the distraction.

The truth was, I didn’t actually enjoy flying. Anxiety fluttered in my chest as the plane started to eat up the runway. I gripped the armrest tightly, closing my eyes as the plane lifted into the air, the power of the jet engines rumbling beneath our feet.

I focused on my yoga breathing—from the belly, in and out. Flying was safer than driving, so they said.

I had no idea who they were, but I had to assume they knew what they were talking about.

“Are you all right?” Luca asked, interrupting my belly breathing. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” I snapped, returning to my relaxation techniques, but now I was a little dizzy. “I just get a little anxious during takeoff.”

“Here, take a sip. It’ll help soften the edges,” Luca said, holding out his champagne flute with the remainder of his drink. I shook my head, refusing his offer. He gave me a look that said I was being childish, but I didn’t care. I didn’t need Luca tending to me, in any way. Not even if his suggestion would lessen the sudden tightening in my chest.

“I just need to breathe,” I said, demonstrating my yoga technique. “See? In and out. I feel better already.”

“Suit yourself.” Luca finished his champagne and set his glass in the elegant cup holder until the attendant could retrieve it once we hit thirty thousand feet.

Thirty thousand feet.

Eek! If human beings were meant to fly, we would’ve been born with wings! Panic started to override my breathing, and instead of controlled inhales and exhales, I was suddenly panting and spots were beginning to dance before my eyes.

“You’re so damn stubborn,” Luca said.

I couldn’t spare the oxygen to tell him to shove his opinion up his piehole, so I settled for sending him a dirty look. Damn it, I was going to have to take something to ease my anxiety, which I did not want to do with Luca sitting beside me, looking as handsome as he ever was, reminding me that I wasn’t the only woman who had eyes in her head.

Jealousy, now? Luca made me feel out of control. I wanted to tell him “go fuck yourself” in one breath, yet when women inevitably gave him fuck-me eyes, I wanted to tattoo my name on his forehead just so they knew he was mine.

But he wasn’t mine, because I didn’t want him.

It didn’t make sense in my own head, so I couldn’t possibly explain my feelings to anyone else, which became readily apparent when I’d tried to talk to Alana about the situation.

“You do realize you’re walking away from a gazillion-dollar family, right?”

“It’s not about the money, Alana,” I’d reminded her, flopping back against her plush luxury sofa the night after my last dinner engagement with Luca. “I just can’t do this. All the rules, the obligations, the expectation that I simply nod, smile and look pretty... And his mother! I’m more than a walking uterus. I was made to do more than pump out Donato babies!”

“But your babies would be so cute,” Alana had protested, picking up on the least important detail in my impassioned declaration. “I wonder if they’d have your red hair or his black? That Italian heritage is hard to override, but your red hair is something even Photoshop can’t replicate. Oh! What if they had his black hair but your crazy curls? That would be fab.”

I had snapped my fingers in front of Alana’s dreamy gaze. “Focus, Alana. I’m not marrying him. I can’t. Marrying Luca would be admitting that I’m good with sacrificing everything that I am, just for money. I’m not that person.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Alana had said, rolling her eyes and reaching for her phone. “Have you seen Georgie’s newest Insta post? She’s such a bitch. I can’t believe she had the balls to say that Carolina’s party was a dud. It was way better than her lame masquerade debacle at Halloween.”

“He broke my heart,” I’d reminded Alana, dragging her back on point. “Remember?”

Alana had blinked, then seemed to remember. “Of course, darling. He’s a dick. But aren’t all men? Fidelity is a unicorn, sweetheart. A fun bit of fiction we cling to as little girls, but then we grow up and realize variety is far more fun, and even better than that is having the money to go and do whomever we choose. Okay, so you think he cheated on you, but honestly, it’s actually a good thing because you guys broke the seal before getting married—now you don’t have to cling to those silly, outdated and impossible standards. Besides, you were in college when it happened. Have fun, baby girl. And if you really feel the need to console yourself, do it with his money.”

That was, literally, the worst advice I’d ever been given, but I didn’t fault Alana. The truth was, as much as I loved Alana, her advice just cemented the belief that I would never fit into Luca’s world—and I didn’t want to.

When I chose a husband, I wanted someone who shared the same philosophies about love and marriage. Not someone who believed people were interchangeable and disposable.

“So what are we going to do in California?” Luca’s voice dragged me back to the present, and I reluctantly popped an anxiety pill.

I closed my eyes, willing the medicine to work quickly before I freaked the fuck out and jumped from the emergency door to end up as Flat Katherine.

“I haven’t agreed to your deal yet,” I reminded him with a weak frown, my heart still thundering in my chest. “I don’t know if I can stomach spending a whole week with you.”

He cast a derisive look my way to quip, “You really know how to punch a guy in the nuts.”

I shrugged. Luca’s feelings weren’t my concern. “Just being honest.”

I was grateful Luca didn’t feel the need to offer a rebuttal, which gave the medicine a chance to calm my racing heart and settle my nerves. By the time Luca asked about the plans, I could actually think straight again.

“Did you have a plan when you ran away?” he asked. “A place to stay? Anything like that?”

I opened my eyes, feeling more confident and in control. “Yes, actually. I’ve found a cute hostel in Berkeley that’s cheap.”

Luca’s distaste might’ve been comical if I hadn’t been so irritated that he was tagging along. “A hostel?” he repeated, his lip curling. “Have you ever stayed in a hostel?”

“No, but it looked fine,” I answered, enjoying his displeasure. “Not everyone needs the Ritz. I certainly don’t.”

“You know you have to share a bathroom with strangers, right?”

“Of course I know that,” I said with fake sweetness. Okay, so I’d never done it before, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. I was sure everyone was hygienic and polite. I’d been curious about backpacking since college. Hearing my friends regale me with tales of their summer travels made me yearn for an experience I’d always been denied. The daughter of Bernard Oliver didn’t gallivant around the globe staying in hostels, especially not with students whose families didn’t belong in our social circle. So, maybe this wasn’t quite the same, but hosteling in San Francisco, testing out my new freedom, would be exciting nonetheless. “I’m actually looking forward to the adventure.”

“Adventure. That’s an apt word for it,” Luca responded drily. “Unlike you, I actually stayed in hostels when I did a trip after high school with my friends. It was mostly a drunken crawl across Europe, which was fun but also disgusting. You’ve never stayed in a hotel with less than a five-star rating.”

“Hence the adventure,” I returned with a glare. “Don’t poop on my plans. I’m going to have fun, and you can’t stop me.”

“May I make an alternative suggestion?”

I decided to humor him. “Such as?”

“Let me take you to Fiji. I can guarantee the allure of sharing a composting toilet with a bunch of hipsters will fade a lot more quickly than the experience of lying on a pristine white-sand beach with crystal clear waters lapping at your feet.”

He knew I loved the beach and Fiji was one of those places we’d always talked about when we were younger. I hated that he’d remembered that small detail. I hated even more that a part of me wanted to say yes, but I wasn’t changing my plans.

“I want to experience life like a normal person, and a normal person in their early twenties is usually broke. A hostel is within my budget. But I can understand how that might not be your scene. Feel free to bow out. You’re a little overdressed anyway,” I said with a small smile as my gaze flicked to his suit.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” he said with a shrug. “Jeans and hoodies, it is.”

“You’re really going to stay in a hostel with me?”

“Why not? Sounds fun. Maybe I’ll diversify my portfolio and buy one for a tax shelter.”

My sound of disgust was followed by “Just like a Donato. Not everything is for sale.”

“That hasn’t been my experience.”

“Life is about more than what can be bought.”

He agreed, leaning over to whisper in my ear, “Life is about good sex.”

I gasped, and he chuckled at catching me off guard. If he thought keeping me off balance would tip the scales in his favor, he was wrong. Even if his voice in my ear had just started percolating my blood with a heat I remembered all too well.

I swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yeah, well, we’re not having sex, so...” Keep telling yourself that and you might believe it. It was absolutely essential that neither one of us was naked around the other—that was just asking for trouble.

“Let’s make this week interesting,” he proposed with a playful glint in his eye. “We will compromise—”

“Donatos don’t compromise,” I cut in flatly.

“There’s a first time for everything,” he countered with a small smile. “Are you interested in hearing my proposal?”

No. Yes. Well, maybe. “If only out of sheer curiosity,” I answered, one brow climbing with skepticism. “What is this compromise?”

“If you agree to splitting our days between things I want to do, I will agree to do what you want to do without complaint. I get three days, you get three days, with the last day reserved for travel.”

“Technically, someone is going to get shafted, because today is a travel day, too.”

“Unfortunately, as you’ve already picked hostel living for our first day, you’ve used up one of your days,” he explained, matter-of-fact. “Unless you’d like to change your mind about staying in a hipster hotel. I’d be happy to make arrangements at the Four Seasons.”

I hesitated, weighing his offer. I could tell by the way his gaze intensified that he sensed victory, but he never made the rookie mistake of celebrating too early. He knew I was intrigued by his offer. I was even curious as to how he’d choose to spend his days when I’d taken sex off the table.

But I also knew giving a Donato room to wiggle was dangerous.

“Why do you care, Luca? Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just walk away?” I asked, exasperated by the allure of the game beginning between us. It felt too familiar, too entertaining. I didn’t want to feel anything remotely positive with Luca, because I didn’t want to question or regret my decision.

Luca offered a brief smile before saying with a shrug, “You signed a contract. If being a part of this family has taught you anything, it is that you honor your commitments.”

Not because he loved me, but because Donato men didn’t walk away from an investment. I smothered my disappointment. “Very Game of Thrones of you, but I’m no Lannister—nor am I a Donato. You and I both know that contracts entered into with a child are illegal and, thus, nonbinding. Your family and my father conducted an illegal sale of a person. Even with all your money, that’s still illegal—and despicable, I might add.”

“Have you wanted for anything?” he returned, that tiny twitch returning to his jaw that gave away his temper. “Have you been mistreated in any way?”

“Not the point,” I said stubbornly, shaking my head. “Still illegal.”

“The finest schools, the best opportunities, every need provided for... Yes, I can see how you received the sharp end of this deal.” He stopped me before I could jump in, adding, “And not to put too fine a point on your argument, but you were perfectly amenable to the arrangement until your ego was bruised. Suddenly, you were a victim and we were the devil. So, please, when you’re forming your narrative in your head, be sure to paint yourself with the same colors as you’ve assigned everyone else.”

No one liked to be called on their bullshit, and I was no exception. “Well, even the devil was an angel before he fell” was all I could offer by way of an excuse, because he was right. There was a time when I’d been blissfully happy, blessed even, not because of the money and the privilege, but because I’d been in love with a man I thought felt the same way about me.

“Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven,” Luca said with a flippant shrug. “Let me know your decision before we land. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to catch up on some sleep. Feel free to glower out the window, but do so silently.”

“I don’t glower,” I muttered, but he’d already tuned me out and my anxiety medication was making me sleepy. There was no point in arguing an unfortunate fact. Yes, I’d been in love with Luca, and being his bride had been my favorite daydream.

But things changed. People woke up. And rose-colored glasses often broke under the pressure of reality.

I couldn’t marry Luca—not if I wanted anything that was truly me to survive.


CHAPTER THREE (#u36704d03-5952-5d74-ac3b-a1fcfd0985ea)

Katherine

IN SPITE OF the medication, I couldn’t sleep, unlike Luca, who slept like a baby without a care in the world. While I tried to find a comfortable position, he snored lightly, deep in dreamland.

It was just like a Donato to manipulate a situation to their advantage in any way possible. I sneaked a glance at his profile. Dark hair, sharply barbered with perfect edges, his clean-shaven jaw without a single nick, as if even the blade was afraid of failing a Donato.

But I remembered a time when Luca wasn’t so concerned with the appearance of perfection.

When he’d smiled with warmth, when his blue eyes had sparkled with mischief and fun.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the unwelcome memories that began to spill forward with the slightest encouragement. That was the thing about opening a door, right? Hard to slam shut once the wind started pushing against it.

“You’re so beautiful...”

Luca’s voice echoed, a distant remnant of a different time between two different people.

It’d been a humid day in the city, and my prep school graduation from Dalton loomed. Luca had spirited me away with a promise of a private celebration between the two of us.

I remembered everything about that day—the smell of the wind as it made my hair dance through the open convertible top of his Maserati—how I couldn’t keep the hem of my sundress from rippling up my thighs and Luca couldn’t keep his eyes on the road.

“We’re going to crash.” I’d laughed, gesturing at him to stay focused, but I was drunk on his affection, his seeming obsession with me. I teased him with flirty looks cast his way, knowing I was driving him nuts. “Where are we going?” I asked, grinning.

“You’ll see.”

I loved the way he took control. I always felt safe with Luca. He seemed so worldly, so accomplished.

Of course, he was the Donato heir—the expectations were high. Giovanni Donato had groomed him from the time he was a kid to take the reins when the time came for the mean-eyed bear to retire.

Giovanni scared me and always had. It amazed me that Luca sprang from Giovanni’s DNA. Luca was nothing like his father. Luca was kind, sweet, caring and so romantic, whereas Giovanni was cold, manipulative and quite comfortable playing the bad guy if need be. To be honest, I avoided Giovanni whenever I could, which wasn’t difficult, as Giovanni paid as little attention to me as he would the multitude of servants looking after his palatial mansion.

But who cared about Giovanni Donato, anyway? He wasn’t around. It was just me and Luca, and I was his princess. The sleek car ate the road as we headed to our unknown destination. The joy in my heart was near to bursting. I was living the dream. How’d I get so lucky?

Just as I was about to scream from the building anticipation, Luca pulled into a dirt driveway lined with a white picket fence for as far as I could see. Rolling hills with gently swaying dried grass waved as we drove by, and cows dotted the pastureland.

“Where are we?” I asked, delighted as we parked in front of a huge farmhouse, chickens clucking and scratching around the front yard. It was like the living embodiment of “The Farmer in the Dell.”

“I thought you might like this place,” Luca said, opening my door with a wide smile. “It’s a sanctuary for animals that have been rescued from abusive owners.”

My eyes widened as I exclaimed, “Do they have goats? Oh, please, say they have goats!”

“They have goats.”

I squealed and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his strong torso. His hands cupped my behind as he laughed at my enthusiasm while I peppered his adorable face with kisses. “You’re the best! This is amazing! I can’t believe you brought me here.”

Luca knew I’d always been obsessed with goats; they always made me laugh and I’d tried, unsuccessfully, to get approval from my dorm manager to have one as a pet.

I hopped down and slid my hand into his as we walked into the farmhouse, a permanent smile on my face. The old hardwood groaned in welcome beneath our feet, and the smell of beeswax and lemon was the most heavenly aroma I’d ever known.

“You must be Mr. and Mrs. Donato,” a plump woman said, coming forward as she wiped her hands on the apron tied around her ample waist.

I blushed at her assumption, biting my lip at the wild thrill of being called Mrs. Donato, but Luca corrected her with a coy “She’s not mine yet, but hopefully someday.” I wanted to pinch him playfully. Of course, I would marry him at twenty-three, after I graduated college, but no one knew that.

“Young lovebirds.” She sighed as if remembering her own youth. “Well, I’m Mrs. Ellering, but you can call me Iris. Welcome to Knucklebocker Sanctuary. We’ve prepared a special day for you and your sweetheart. Just follow me.”

Oh, that sneaky devil had prepared everything in advance, and I loved it.

“I heard someone is an animal lover?” Iris prompted as she led us to the large redwood barn.

“That’s me,” I piped up, squeezing Luca’s hand as I beamed. “I hope to work with animals someday. Maybe go to veterinary school.”

“That’s a noble profession,” Iris said, pushing open the barn doors. The scents of barn wood, hay and horse poop immediately assaulted my nose, but I liked it. It was so earthy and unlike the city that I drank in the ambience. Plus, the fact that Luca had arranged everything made it extra special.

“Harvard,” Iris called out, “we have guests.”

A bald, wiry man in faded overalls and a full white beard appeared from a stall where a horse nickered. “You them fancy folk from the city that’s bought us out for the day?” he asked.

I tried not to blush, but Luca answered for us both, saying good-naturedly, “What gave it away? My soft hands?”

“Oh, go on now, be nice.” Iris waved at her husband with mock disapproval, but it was easy to see they were both playing around. My heart melted a little at how easily the older couple flowed together, an obvious by-product of a long, happy marriage. I tightened my grip on Luca with a wistful sigh. That will be us, someday...

I awoke with a start, realizing that I’d been dreaming and we were landing. Luca was already awake, his attention focused on his phone.

What a difference from then to now. Gone were the smiles, the laughter...the sweet, good-natured Luca who went out of his way to make me happy with an over-the-top gesture, replaced by this manipulative caricature dressed in a ten-thousand-dollar suit.

I absently rubbed at the dismal chord that twanged in my chest. If I cared, I might’ve mourned the loss of the man I used to know, but I didn’t care. Disdain had replaced any pain that lingered, and I was grateful. Just as Luca wasn’t the man he used to be, I wasn’t the girl he used to know, either.

If Luca thought he could persuade me to forget the past with this phony seduction act, he didn’t know how much I’d truly changed. Of course, Luca probably felt secure in the idea that he could win this little wager; otherwise he wouldn’t have extended the offer.

Time to negotiate. “I want our deal in writing,” I said.

“You don’t trust me?” He tsked as if I were being unfair. When I didn’t budge, he relented. “Fine. Anything else?”

“Yes, I will give you seven days, but at the end of those seven days, when I haven’t changed my mind, you will not only agree to end my contract, but you will not seek any damages from the breach and you will leave me to live in peace. I never want to see you or another Donato again. Clear?”

“If I can’t change your mind,” he repeated, but there was something about his tone that sent a warning chill dancing along my skin. “But I will change your mind, Katherine. I have no doubt that by the end of the week, possibly sooner, I’ll be between your legs and you’ll be gasping my name.”

I sucked in an embarrassed breath, glancing around quickly to see if anyone had caught what he’d said. “I said no sex,” I said with a sharp hiss. “Absolutely no sex. No touching, no sucking, kissing or licking...nothing.”

His knowing chuckle undid me, and I suffered an intense need to run far and fast. It was as if he could sense that my heart rate tripled when he was around, that my skin heated and my toes curled inside my shoes against my will.

My attraction to him was mortifying. My dignity cringed and wailed, Remember how he destroyed you without skipping a beat? Do you want to be tied to him for the rest of your life? Afraid of when he’ll, no doubt, do it again?

God, no. Then suck it up, buttercup, and get ready to win at all costs. I swallowed the lump stuck in my throat but held my ground. “No sex,” I growled.

“Fine.” He sighed but then added with a silky whisper against the shell of my ear, “But I promise I won’t think less of you in the morning if you change your mind.”

A tremble rattled my knees. Was I afraid that he was right? That it wouldn’t take much for me to crumple beneath his touch if I so much as gave him one single opportunity? That if I did let him in, I’d willingly bare my neck for the slaughter as I sank into the pleasure that I knew he could wring from my body? Okay, maybe that part was a little dramatic, but my life was on the line. And as much as I hated to admit it, sex with Luca had been pretty good. Okay, spectacular.

True story—after one particularly long and exquisite orgasm, I temporarily went deaf. Yeah, that had done wonders for Luca’s already healthy ego when I’d shared that phenomenon with him.

But no one had been able to deliver that kind of pleasure since, so I knew Luca had some skill.

Immaterial, I reminded myself when I started to drift. I didn’t want to live my life as a Donato Stepford wife. I knew that for certain, and no amount of stellar sex was going to change that fact.

I just had to keep my eye on the prize—my freedom—and everything would work out in my favor.

I could handle seven days.

Lifting my chin, I held Luca’s stare, reiterating my terms. “In writing, please.”

There went that damnable smile again as he said, “I’ll have my lawyer draft something immediately.”

And I wasn’t sure if I’d just made a very big mistake.


CHAPTER FOUR (#u36704d03-5952-5d74-ac3b-a1fcfd0985ea)

Luca

TRUE TO MY WORD, I had a draft contract, simple and concise, emailed to me within an hour of checking into the roach motel passing itself off as a hostel. As Katherine perused the wording with the diligence of a woman signing away her soul to the devil, I wondered how quickly she would notice that the single bed in the room was quite small.

If she thought I was going to sleep on the floor, she was nuts. I’d seen toilets in third-world countries cleaner than this dingy, faded linoleum, and I wasn’t touching it with my bare feet, much less my backside.

“Everything in order?” I asked.

A subtle frown pulled on her forehead as she double-checked everything. Her frown deepened as she regarded me with irritation. “The bedroom clause? I told you no sex.”

“Are you saying you can’t sleep beside me without tearing off my clothes and having your wicked way with me?”

“Please—” she rolled her eyes “—you know I won’t have a problem, but you, on the other hand... I don’t believe you can keep your hands to yourself.”

Oh, sweet Katherine, you’re going to beg for my hands—and tongue—by the time I’m through with you. “I guess we’ll have to see,” I said with a small shrug. “Anything else?”

The indecision as she vacillated between refusing to sign and going forward was intriguing. I think of the many things I enjoyed about Katherine, it was her stubborn refusal to simply do as she was told. Maybe I was tired of people always jumping when I barked. I wouldn’t put it past Katherine to rip up the contract out of spite.

Finally, she signed her name with flourish, chewing her plump bottom lip as she finished. “There. Done. You get one week and then I’m gone.”

“So the contract says,” I agreed, causing her to cast a suspicious look my way. I smiled. “Now that the legalities are out of the way...shall we discuss the schedule?”

Katherine drew a deep breath and exhaled with a nod. “Might as well.”

“We can do this one of two ways. You can take all your days consecutively or we can trade off. Which do you prefer?”

“I prefer not having you in my space at all,” she answered with a perfunctory smile. “But seeing as I just agreed to this ridiculous game, we’ll switch off.”

“Excellent,” I said, already ready to vacate this trash bin. I would have the penthouse suite booked at the most exclusive hotel in the city for tomorrow. At the very least, I’d get a decent shower, which I knew wasn’t going to happen here. “On to the second order of business...as you can see, the bed is quite small.”

“I wasn’t counting on company,” Katherine said, but she could already see where I was heading. “I guess you’ll have to sleep on the floor.”

“You and I both know that’s not going to happen.”

“The contract says one bedroom, not one bed,” she pointed out. “So, technically, if we’re still in the same room...it doesn’t mean that we have to be in the same bed.”

“You can take the floor if you like, but I’m taking the bed,” I said, enjoying how her upper lip wrinkled in subtle distaste for the same reasons mine did. “But if you’re amenable to sharing the bed, I’m not opposed to it.”

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” she bluffed.

“Excellent. Then it’s settled. Maybe we can get an extra blanket for you. San Francisco is quite chilly at night.”

Especially in January.

“You would make me sleep on the floor?” Katherine asked.

“Of course not. You’re the one insisting on sleeping on the floor.”

“I am not,” she refuted, scowling a little. “You are by not being a gentleman.”

At that I laughed. “Have I ever been accused of being a gentleman?”

Katherine opened her mouth but stopped short. I would give anything for a window into that overactive brain of hers. What memory had popped in before she ignored it? I would ask if I thought she might admit it, but I wasn’t going to waste the energy. Not yet, anyway. “Fine,” she agreed through gritted teeth. “But I swear to God, if you touch me...”

I waved away her threat. “Sweetheart, I promise I won’t touch you...until you beg for it.”

Katherine flushed red but managed a haughty “Like that’s ever going to happen” before she left me alone in the room, supposedly to use the communal toilet. I cracked a grin at imagining how Katherine would shriek at the bathroom conditions. She talked a good game, but she was out of her element. As much as she wanted to play the hippie flower child, she was just as accustomed to wealth as me. I doubted the “charm” of her accommodations would last long.

Perusing the small room, I chuckled at the memories of Europe—young, dumb and full of come, as they say—me and my buddies traipsing through London, Athens, Paris in one long, endless summer of debauchery.

All those foreign, exotic women—I limited myself to nothing. Curvy, thin, short, tall, thick. And wild, shy and timid—I enjoyed the smorgasbord of female options and learned a few things, too.

We often joked it was a miracle we’d escaped alive with our cocks intact. Although Ryin had caught a particularly nasty infection that’d required a stringent round of antibiotics—but at least it’d been curable.

And speaking of debauchery...

I grabbed my cell and dialed my friend Dillon Buchanan.

He surprised me with a quick answer. “Fucking A, Luca Donato? What are you doing? Are you in town?”

“I am, and I’m looking for a little entertainment. You and your brothers still own that club?”

“We do—damn source of contention with the wives, but yeah. You interested in playing while in town? I could set you up with some playmates.”

“Thanks, but I brought my own. My fiancée, actually. I want to treat her to the wonders of Malvagio before we head back at the end of the week.”

Malvagio, originally owned by Dillon’s twin brothers, Nolan and Vince, was an exclusive sex club, intensely private, invite only, and it took an act of God to gain an invitation from a sponsored member. The shit that happened between those walls was pure hedonism, catering to certain fetishes with a definite Eyes Wide Shut vibe to the entire operation.

The obscenely wealthy needed their diversions, and the Buchanan brothers had found a way to cash in on that need.

Not that they needed any money—the Buchanans were billionaires in their own right—but hey, nobody turned down more cash, right?

“Fiancée...holy shit. Never thought I’d see that happen. Is she mentally challenged?” Dillon joked.

“Ha-ha,” I retorted. “Coming from the man who found a woman to marry him, in spite of being the biggest asshole in the city.”

“I’m only an asshole to you. To my lady, I’m Don fucking Juan. What are your plans for tomorrow night? The auction is on the calendar. Interested?”

I grinned. Each year Malvagio opened its membership to women hoping to gain a sponsor into the club, but in order to do so, they went on the block and sponsors competed for the prize.

It was sexist as hell, but everyone seemed to enjoy the show, so no harm, no foul.

“Sounds fun,” I answered, already picturing Katherine’s expression of shock. “Put me on the list with a plus-one.”

We exchanged a few good-natured insults and then said our goodbyes.

By the time Katherine returned, I was smiling like the Cheshire cat.


CHAPTER FIVE (#u36704d03-5952-5d74-ac3b-a1fcfd0985ea)

Katherine

I DIDN’T TRUST that smile. Luca had something up his sleeve. I didn’t expect him to cough up his master plan, though. All I could do was remain vigilant and deflect any attempts at seduction that he might try.

Oh, yes. I knew he was going to pull out all the stops. Probably try to woo me with fancy dinners and sickeningly trite flattery, because that was all he knew of me from our past, but I was long past that girl.

He’d broken me two years ago. And even before then, I could feel myself changing as my perspective of the world shifted. I guessed higher learning did that to you. He could waste his time plying me with useless trinkets and hollow conversation, but I was immune. I would endure this week and then finally walk away from the Donato family forever. Starting fresh was scary, but there was something exhilarating about the prospect, too. I couldn’t wait.

A moment of disquiet intruded on my budding elation. I’d known the Donato boys as long as I could remember. Nico, Luca’s youngest brother, and I were friends. I didn’t care for Dante much—he was too much like Giovanni—but the point was, they’d always been part of my life. I didn’t know what life would be like without their influence casting a shadow, both good and bad.

I guessed I would find out.

“I’m hungry,” he announced, checking his watch. “Let’s get some dinner.”

Ah, here it comes. “Let me guess...a candlelit dinner for two atop the highest building in the city? A glorious view of the bay, stars twinkling, the mood just right...so cozy, so romantic,” I mocked. Like I’m going to fall for that. I folded my arms across my chest, smug. “But it’s my day to pick.”

He frowned. “A simple ‘no, thanks’ would’ve been fine.”

“Like you weren’t angling for some romantic night out,” I said, calling his bluff.

“Not unless you consider a burger down at the corner pub romantic,” he said, his expression clearly saying, Calm your tits, crazy lady, but I wasn’t buying it. He grabbed his coat. “You coming or not?”

“Not.”

“Suit yourself.”

My certainty faltered as Luca headed for the door. Was he actually going to leave me behind? My stomach growled in protest. “Are you really going for a burger?” I called after him, grabbing my coat to join him. He shook his head with open annoyance at my suspicion, then he kept walking. He exited the hostel and stepped onto the sidewalk, his stride so damn confident that even passersby took notice. I couldn’t help staring just a little. Everywhere Luca went, he attracted attention. If it wasn’t for his looks, it was his demeanor. He had a way of walking into a room and instantly taking control. It was as if the universe engineered every circumstance to his advantage, and that drove me nuts.

Even if it was a little bit sexy. Okay, maybe a lot sexy, but I wasn’t going to feed his massive ego by admitting it. If anything, I would deny it until I died, just to prick a few holes in that giant head of his.

The pub wasn’t far, true to his word, and I could smell the aroma of something delicious the minute we were within a few feet. My stomach clenched with hunger, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since that morning at Alana’s, and I was privately glad I’d decided to tag along. I’d let Luca spend his money so I could keep what I had in reserve.

An Irish pub, the interior dark paneling punctuated by import-beer signs and raucous laughter, the place had a fun vibe that was hard to dislike. We slid into a cozy booth, and a terminally cute and bubbly waitress named Erin bounced over to our table.

“Welcome to Harrigans. What can I get you to start off with?”

“Murphy’s Irish stout,” Luca answered, earning a smile from Little Miss Easily Impressed.

Her gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary before she gestured to me. “And your lady?” she asked, clearly on a fishing expedition.

Might as well help the girl out. Do her a solid.

“I’m not his lady,” I corrected her, shooting Luca a pointed look, daring him to say anything different, but the man simply sat there, waiting for me to give Erin my drink order, which only made me look like a bitchy shrew. “We are...uh...business associates,” I clarified with a smile. “And I’ll have a Guinness.”

“Oh, my mistake. You two look so sweet together I just kinda assumed. I’m so sorry. Be right back.” She beamed and bounced away like the human equivalent of a bunny rabbit with giant boobs.

“I think she likes you,” I said, hoping to goad him into saying or doing something that would cement my disdain for him, but he didn’t even nibble at the bait. I tried harder. “Supercute, too. Those boobs, right? Pretty big. If you like that sort of thing. I mean, of course you do. All guys lose their minds over big tits. I think it’s etched in your DNA.”

“You seem pretty obsessed with our waitress’s breasts,” he observed, amused.

Heat climbed my throat to heat my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant... Oh, forget it. Never mind,” I said, letting it go. He wasn’t going to do something so overtly offensive as coming on to the waitress on the first day of our deal. What an amateur move. If I wanted to win, I had to stop thinking so small.

Erin returned with our drinks, and after we both ordered the house burgers, I fidgeted a little, unsure of what to do with my hands. Finally, I settled with my hands in my lap, but I was intensely aware of how an entirely too-small table was the only obstacle between us. Our knees were practically kissing beneath the table.

Was I supposed to make small talk? I had two settings around Luca—head over heels in love and despise with the force of an EMP blast—I didn’t know how to be neutral.

And his seemingly relaxed, taking-in-the-ambience attitude wasn’t helping things. Why wasn’t he acting like he normally did—arrogant or patronizing—so I could find my bearings?

I didn’t know how to reconcile that Luca with this chill dude.

“How’d you know about this place?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence. “Have you been here before?”

“Nope. Dinner locale courtesy of Google Maps. It was the closest to the hostel and had a good Yelp review. I figure we had nothing to lose, seeing as we were already taking our lives for granted by staying in the murder motel for the night, but, hey, life is for the living, right?” He lifted his bottle in salute and tipped it back. “Plus, it reminds me of a few pubs me and my buddies frequented in Scotland. Good times, except for the time I was persuaded to eat haggis on a drunken dare.”

I dragged my gaze away from the spectacle of those sensual lips wrapping around the bottle top and focused on my own drink. I didn’t care for Guinness, but it seemed sacrilegious to order anything less in an Irish pub. Besides, the beer helped loosen the tension cording my shoulders, so I continued to slug it down. “How’d that end?” I asked.

“With my head stuck in a dirty toilet and a bunch of locals laughing their asses off,” he answered wryly. “Never touched haggis again.”

I bit back a laugh, but I rather liked the image of a young Luca puking his guts out in a foreign country.

“You like that, huh?” His slow grin did terrible things to my stomach. “Then you’ll love the story of how I woke up after a wild night in London to find my face a different color than when I passed out. The fuckers sprayed me with the darkest sunless tanner they could find. I went to bed white and woke up a mottled dark brown, and that shit did not scrub off easily. I spent the rest of the week looking like I’d caught a skin disease until it wore off.”

At that I really did laugh. “Was this during your European pub crawl after high school?”

“The very same. How’d you know? You were pretty young then.”

“I always knew what was going on. My circumstances weren’t exactly normal.”

He conceded my point with a silent nod, but before either of us could say much more, our food arrived and we both let it go, choosing dinner over uncomfortable topics.

And I was grateful. I didn’t want to have a deep, soulful conversation with Luca about anything, much less my unorthodox childhood, thanks to his family, and he’d seemed on the verge of saying something distressingly nice or even apologetic.

I couldn’t risk buying into anything he had to say, even if a part of me craved it more than I wanted to admit.

I’d long since stopped wondering how things might’ve been different if Luca had apologized in the slightest for breaking my heart... I wondered if I would’ve granted my forgiveness. I knew the answer—of course I would’ve. I’d been helplessly in love with the jackass. I was pretty sure stars had twinkled in my eyes like a cartoon character whenever he’d been around.





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