Page 72 of His Bride

But not in public. Alone? Definitely.

I am about to pull down the zipper to get changed when the doorbell rings.

Heart thumping, I freeze.

There are guards. Whoever it is, they were let in through the gates. Vetted. Known.

I close my eyes.

Caelian.

Who else would it be? When we get guests, it’s only by appointment for my father, and Cristiano doesn’t bring friends over—not school friends, anyway. And he definitely won’t ring the doorbell.

God, I don’t want to see him. What if it’s just a repeat of last night? We can’t do this forever.

There’s a knock on the door. “Miss Giana?” Mrs. Blakely, the housekeeper we’ve had for years, says through the door. “You have a visitor.”

I swallow. Hard. Did he just outplay me? If I don’t go downstairs, I hand him the perfect excuse to come up here. Which is the last thing I want. Because what if he touches me?

Drawing in a shaky breath, I stand and go to the door, opening it.

“Tell the gentleman I’ll be down in a few, Mrs. B.”

She nods and heads down the stairs.

I wait. Wait some more, then I storm down to the living room, but no one’s in there.

Then I cross to Dad’s opulent study—the one he uses for business meetings, when he needs to make an impression.

He turns. “Giana.”

And my heart shrivels.

It’s not Caelian.

Chapter 19

GIANA

“Aurelio. What are you doing here?”

A smile spreads across his mouth, and it’s not exactly friendly. It’s an ugly smile with too many teeth and unsavory intent. “To see you, of course, my beautiful fiancée.”

I cringe. “I made it clear we’re to wait until the divorce is final.”

He slips his hands into his pants pockets. “You moved back in with your daddy. I think gossip’s already buzzing about how you chose the better man. Besides, I want to spend some quality time with you.” His gaze slithers from my face to my toes. “And you dressed for the occasion. Do you like it? I chose it just for you.”

My head spins. “You sent me the dress?”

“Who else?” He frowns. “Unless…you thought it was your ex-husband.”

“Not yet.”

“But soon.” He looks at me like I’m a piece of meat he’s about to tear into—his eyes cold, flickering with a mix of satisfaction andcruelty. I’m suddenly hyperaware of all the skin this dress isn’t covering.

“You need to leave,” I say. “I don’t want gossip spreading like wildfire around town.”

He smirks. “Baby doll, you’re all dressed up for getting to know me on a personal, sexy level. Since you’re used goods, I was thinking of a taste, a little sample. As a woman who’s been around the block, I don’t think you’ll mind.”

---