Page 27 of Gilded Saint

“One, it’s better if Massimo De Luca believes the love story. If he thinks he got played because someone didn’t want to give his brother what he wants, he’ll see it as a sign of disrespect. It won’t play out well for the Gaglianos, and I don’t want issues for Titan Shipping.”

“I don’t plan on returning to Italy anytime soon.” Therefore, Massimo can believe whatever line Willow’s family feeds him.

“A trip to Texas to introduce her would give you some time to talk shop with your family. Face to face, no risk of breach.”

“You think someone’s monitoring us?”

“They’re always trying. Either they were successful, or we’ve got a leak. I want to know what deals the Sullivans have struck and with whom. I want to know who, outside of our circle, is buying right now. Your wedding is the perfect excuse for one-on-one time.”

The bedroom door opens, and Willow stands in the doorway. She’s no longer wearing virginal white thigh highs, and the garter belt is gone, but she’s wearing a see-through white gown that falls mid-thigh, and her breasts are on full display. The way the light filters through the gauzy fabric, she might as well be nude, and I’m instantly hard.

Fuck me. One more image burned into my retinas.

“Get back in the room.”

She spins, giving us a clear view of her bare, fine ass, and the door closes. Fucking hell. Could she not hear our voices?

“You slept on the sofa instead of with that?” I glare at Nick, and he chuckles. “She’s your bride. It might not be love, but it’s legal. You might as well fuck her.” He pushes off the armchair and stares at the closed door. “I certainly would.”

I faked a marriage with her to protect her, not to use her.

“You silly cunt.”

I want to smack that irritating grin right off his face.

“Right, then. I’ll be getting out of your bridal suite. Call me when you’re back at your flat. Let me know when you’ll be returning to Texas.”

The door closes with a loud click, the sound emphasized by the heavy weight of the hotel door. I scrub the back of my head with my hands furiously.Coffee or shower?

Fuck it. I’ll go with a shower. Maybe after I jack off, I won’t be so pissy. I need to meet with Nomad, but I’ll have to be careful. With a battle brewing, eyes will be everywhere.

When I sling open the bedroom door, she’s sitting on the bed, a pillow pulled over her stomach, knees bent up to her chest, timid and impossibly younger looking. Christ.

“Why in the devil did you come out dressed like that?”

Glassy, innocent blue eyes peer up at me.

Tears. I fucking hate tears.

“I didn’t know he was here.”

“And you thought it was okay to walk around in that around me?”

Does she think I’m so old I’m not affected? She’s a fucking walking pin-up. Jesus fucking Christ.

“It’s what my mother packed for my wedding night. The trunks aren’t here.”

She’s right. They shipped the trunks straight to London.

She sniffles, and I just don’t have the patience. I head to the bathroom and catch myself in the mirror. I am a better man than this. Sexual frustration is clouding my judgment. I pause in the doorway, head bowed, back to her, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but it’ll never pass.

“Look. I get that we have an arrangement. I’m older, but I’m still a man. Unless you plan on throwing sex on the table, cover up.”

With that, I close the door, turn on the shower, and take care of business.

Chapter11

Willow

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