Page 55 of His Bride

Nodding, I look around, and one of my guards starts to walk into the space first but the maître d stops him.

“I’m sorry, but I’m under strict instruction that Mrs. Del Rossa?—”

“Belluci.”

“—goes in alone.”

“I’m not going in alone,” I say. “These men are with me, and they will accompany me.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes but doesn’t budge.

“Fine. I’ll be leaving, then.” I hold out the papers to him. “Please give this to Mr. Del Rossa.”

He holds up his hands. “Mrs. Del Rossa?—”

“Belucci, for God’s sake.”

“Please,” he continues with worry in his eyes, “if I don’t take you to him, I will lose my job.”

“Are you serious?” Of course he’s serious. It’s Caelian. He can turn any situation into a game, a power play just to get a thrill out of it. But I refuse to take part.

“I’m not going in there without protection. My men will accompany me, or you can tell Mr. Del Rossa I’ll be leaving.” I lower my voice as my bodyguards come up and flank me.

The look on the poor man’s face is completelyyour-funeralvibe, but he just nods, and we proceed across the room, a party of destruction.

I can feel everyone’s eyes on me. Every whisper, every glance has a question in it. The gossip will follow me like a darting shadow, never really leaving my side. But I'm prepared for that. Prepared for their judgment, their curiosity. I’d been branded a Del Rossa when I married Caelian.

The maître d opens the door to a private room, and my stomach coils, my pulse suddenly racing, making it hard to breathe.

Right now, I need to put on the show of a lifetime, pretending I don’t feel anything for him. Pretending this is nothing more than the end of a business partnership.

A transaction.

But deep down, my soul is a high-pitched, screaming reminder that I’m so in love with this man, this meeting might kill me. But I have to be strong. I have to do what I came here to do. And I need to do so convincingly.

With an exhale, I steel myself as I saunter into the room, and the moment I see him, all my blood rushes with nowhere to go.

“New York,” he says, and my breath leaves me at the sound of his voice.

He’s leaning against the windowsill, shutters closed, with a cigarette in one hand like laws don’t apply to him, and a glass of bourbon in the other.

The last time I saw him, he desperately needed a shave, a haircut, and some sleep. And now, wearing a black suit and a black button shirt with an open collar, he looks as perfect as the man who found me in a coffee shop in the middle of New York City.

Caelian blows a stream of smoke and stubs out the cigarette on the floor under his shoe. Why? Because he’s Caelian Del Rossa and can do whatever the fuck he wants.

Those smoldering amber irises find mine, and I’m afraid he can see every ounce of blood rushing, every frantic beat of my heart.

He straightens. “Wine? Bourbon, or Vine’s latest cocktail?”

I lick my suddenly dry lips and taste the lipstick there.

His mouth curves into a sensuous, dirty smile. “Sex on the table with me.”

I stare, dumbfounded.

His eyes flash. “It’s the name of their new cocktail. It’s a little long, but I’m sure you can handle it.”

The sexual innuendo isn’t lost on me, but it does remind me of what an ass he can be. “No, I don’t want a drink.”

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