Page 19 of The Billionaire's Pact

But I was getting ahead of myself. I took Mr. Marini’s advice and went to bed with a copy of Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World. The story had me absorbed in a technocrat society ushering in a dystopian future. I enjoyed the distraction, but the arranged marriage still remained.

I drifted….

Hands shook me, and my eyes opened. It was Mrs. Belfiore. Smiling? “I’ve been up early getting a few new dresses and shoes.”

Patricia was also there and so was a woman I didn’t know. She followed my gaze.

“She’s a stylist,” Mrs. Belfiore told me. “Go take a shower. We only have two hours to prepare.”

I rose and showered, lathering on the creams Mrs. Belfiore had left for me to moisturize my skin. Gone were the ultra-conservative clothes. She had two modest, yet fashionable dresses for me to try on. “This will have to do until you have your personal stylist and fashion consultant. This is a day-wear dress made from Italian silk.”

She checked my nails and pedicure. “These are holding up. I’ll ask his assistant to get you another appointment. I’ll insist he give you one to help you along.”

“Thank you,” I said as I slipped on the pale blue dress.

Mrs. Belfiore circled me, adjusting the fit. “Hmm. Try on the second one.” It was a midi dress with a light knit bodice and cinched waist. The skirt fell below my knees, but it was the best dress I’d ever worn. It also matched the shade of my blue eyes.

Mrs. Belfiore nodded. “Yes. This one. Now please fix her hair.” My hair was styled, in deep waves that were swept back in a clip. To my surprise, it brought a broader smile to her face. The stylist threaded my brows and applied a soft pencil and mascara to my eyes, and gloss to my lips.

“You remind me of myself at your age. Beautiful.”

My heart lifted. It was a compliment I’d never heard from her, and I didn’t know how to react. “Th-thank you, Mrs. Belfiore.”

She adjusted the fabric on my shoulders. “I need to go and speak with your grandfather. It’s best you stay quiet unless asked to speak during our lunch meeting. It will go like the other one, with you having papers to sign. Keep your shoulders back.” She pulled my shoulders back. “Back shows confidence. You’ll need it.”

Ding. The doorbell rang.

Mrs. Belfiore groaned. “Apparently, he’s early. Come out in five minutes.”

She rushed out with the stylist and Patricia on her heels.

Even dressed up, I still felt plain compared to the starlets and heiresses I’d seen Rocco with on social media. I took a few deep breaths, then walked out of the room.

My legs were stiff on the stairs. I could hear the low tones from my grandparents, letting me know that Rocco was with them. I glanced down from the second landing, and there he was.

Give me strength. He had to be over six feet tall, standing a head over my grandfather’s five-eleven height, whom he chatted with easily. With them being distracted, I let my stare linger on him. Rocco wore a one-button tailored suit and a tie. He had an athletic build, much bigger and broader than mine. His hair was stylish in dark waves that were a little long on the sides and touching his collar, making him look younger than his twenty-nine years.

His intense eyes lifted to me and took hold. I couldn’t turn away. He had me instantly transfixed. A soft smile spread across his full lips, and my pulse throbbed in my veins. The more he stared, the warmer I felt.

“Adelina,” Mrs. Belfiore sang out, breaking my haze where I still stood on the steps, gaping down at him. I jerked my head down to hide my hot face and blatant attraction.

“Mr. and Mrs. Belfiore, perhaps we should go sit down?” Rocco suggested.

I was grateful for Rocco’s distraction. He waited for me to reach the bottom of the stairs, where I inhaled sharply as I shook his hand. His scent was a spicy sandalwood that smelled pleasantly fragrant.

“Hello, Adelina. Lovely to see you.”

I flicked my eyes at him and his smile. He had a magnetism around him that drew me closer. Maybe it’s because of his celebrity status? Standing next to him, his strong, masculine presence was imposing. I felt…delicate.

He shook my hand formally, and mine trembled.

“Nervous?” he asked as we walked.

I nodded. “Aren’t you?”

“Not at all.” His voice was a smooth baritone.

I side-eyed him. “Sure. Marrying a stranger is just your normal Friday.”

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