you must be worrying about something.”
Mina, also known as Lina when she was entertaining improper men in towels in luxurious hotel suites, blinked. She’d thought she’d done a good job hiding her distraction from her fiancé, but apparently her expressive face, which had been her downfall in the etiquette classes designed to attract a man just like Silvio, continued to plague her.
“Mi dispiace.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’ve had a busy day.”
Silvio’s thin lips twisted. “Exhausted ordering your team of wedding planners around? It’s a good thing I have a big staff, cara. You will have many responsibilities as my wife at Villa Marchetti. You must learn how to multitask.”
She was quite adept at multitasking! She’d cleaned a whole floor of hotel suites today in addition to surviving Signor Brunswick’s improper inquisition. The latter of which was half of the problem with her distraction tonight. She couldn’t get the sizzling connection between her and the beautiful American out of her head.
But Silvio didn’t know about any of her extracurricular activities. Her job moonlighting as a chambermaid at the Giarruso to pay off the debt her mother had incurred since her father’s death was a secret to everyone but her. It wouldn’t do for anyone to know Simona Mastrantino’s daughter, engaged to one of Italy’s wealthiest men, was cleaning toilets by the hour.
She pinned a smile on her face, the fact that her mother would have a coronary if she knew what her daughter was doing to keep things afloat of secondary importance to her bigger problem—her impending marriage to Silvio, which she could not possibly go through with.
“Maybe I’m having prewedding jitters,” she murmured. “It’s a big production this wedding. So many people will be there.”
Silvio reached for her hand and curled his fingers around it. “All you have to do is look beautiful. The rest will be taken care of.”
And then they would consummate their relationship. Her stomach dipped at the terrifying thought. She’d never slept with a man. Hadn’t had the opportunity with her mother dragging her from one social event to another husband hunting, advertising her innocence like a detail on a high-end real-estate listing. Look but don’t touch, her mother’s vibe had said. And since Mina had never agreed on any of her mother’s choices for a rich husband, her mother had chosen for her.
She studied her fiancé as he poured her more of the terrifically expensive Chianti he’d ordered for them, undoubtedly trying to loosen her up. He was classically, undeniably handsome with his chiseled features and straight Roman nose, but his eyes, which Mina did think were the windows to the soul, were hard and unyielding, dominated by thick dark brows that always seemed to frown. She had never once experienced any chemistry whatsoever when he had touched her, kissed her, which was as far as he’d managed with her mother on guard.
And yet this afternoon, she acknowledged with a shiver, all it had taken was one look from the American to send electricity coursing through her from her head to her feet. For her to wonder what it would be like to be taken to bed by him. To know it would be as good, as improper, as everything else about him.
“Mina?”
“Hmm?”
Silvio narrowed his gaze on her. “I was asking if you would like dessert or some Frangelico and coffee... Keep this up, cara, and I will start thinking it’s my company you are finding tiresome.”
The desperation that had been coursing through her veins all day with their wedding looming in just forty-eight hours picked up her pulse, sent her heart hammering in her chest.
“What’s bothering me,” she blurted out, “is that we hardly know each other, Silvio. Maybe this has all been a bit fast.”
That hard edge in his eyes deepened. “Now I am thinking you have cold feet, Mina. What more is there to know? I will provide a luxurious life for you to match the one you’re accustomed to. You will entertain me in bed and be a good mother to my children. It’s very simple.”
She pressed a palm to her flushed cheek. She had let the cat out of the bag; she might as well follow through with it.
“When is my birthday?” she asked quietly.
His mouth flattened, a scary, lethal line. “I will, of course, know that when we’re married.”
“Am I a morning person or a night owl? Can I swim or would I drown if you tossed me over the side of your yacht?”
“I’m considering it,” he growled. “Enough, Mina.”
She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. “You asked what was wrong. I’m telling you.”
Well, not all of it. If she told him the entire truth—that her mother was marrying her off so she inherited the family heirloom, a precious ring her father had bequeathed to her upon her marriage—he might not be so impressed. Of course, she conceded miserably, it changed nothing, really. She was being sold as a possession to bear Silvio Marchetti’s bambinos, when all she had ever wanted was to go to business school and follow in her father’s footsteps.
Silvio threw his napkin on the table. “I think we should get out of here.”
Mina’s heart collided with the wall of her chest as her fiancé lifted his hand and signaled the waiter. “Perhaps we should have a liqueur,” she suggested. To give this conversation a chance to cool down before they left supervised company.
He ignored her. Bill secured and paid, he placed a hand at her elbow, brought her to her feet and walked her out of the restaurant with such haste Mina’s head swam. She had consumed more than her usual share of wine with dinner with the nerves plaguing her and now it seemed like a particularly bad idea, given she’d gone and voiced thoughts she never should have.
Her mother was going to kill her. Silvio looked like he wanted to kill her.
She was going to face the consequences.
She sat as far away from Silvio as she could in the car that took them home, his usual driver at the helm. Her fiancé sat stone-faced beside her, not uttering a word as they drove through the streets of Palermo to the posh, aristocratic neighborhood of Montepellegrino where she and her mother lived. If it was possible for a man to be utterly furious without showing any outward sign of it, her fiancé had mastered it. His anger emanated from him like a red cloud.
When the car pulled up in front of her mother’s house, she breathed a sigh of relief. Silvio got out of the car, came around and opened her door. She took his hand, swung her legs out of the car and straightened. “Silvio—”
“Wait here,” her fiancé told his driver in a low tone.
“That isn’t necessary,” she murmured, panicked because her mother was out at the opera. “I think I’m just tired. I’m sure if I—”
Silvio clamped his fingers hard around hers and propelled her toward the villa. She fumbled in her purse for her keys and found them with shaking fingers. Silvio frowned as she pushed the key into the lock. “Where is the staff?”
“It’s Manuel’s night off.” He had been off for over a year, as in permanently off, but she wasn’t about to tell Silvio they had no staff because they were penniless.
Silvio
