Page 13 of Borrowed Bride

In the first few days, I tried to ask questions, but Marco shut me down immediately. He dragged me into the corner of one room and fiercely scolded me, reminding me that part of our deal was to keep my nose out of Barrone business. He was rather scary when he was angry, but the stubbornness inside me just rose to the challenge once more.

I needed to know more. Once I knew how big the score could be from this asshole, I’d know exactly how to play him.

The only time I didn’t have Anton and Ben shadowing me was when Marco himself took over. He didn’t watch me with the intent of getting to know me, but I noticed whenever he entered the same room as me and stayed for a while, Anton and Ben would slip away and leave us to it. Marco wasn’t interested in engaging in conversation with me, but there did seem to be an understanding amongst his guards that no one could protect me better than him.

I tucked that note away for later and after nearly a week at the manor, swamped in more luxury than I knew what to do with, I changed tactics.

“Eat with me,” I say to the blonde maid who hurries through the dining room one early afternoon. She freezes in place, clutching the silver tray laden with cups between her hands.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t think I can.”

“Don’t call me ma’am,” I groan. “We look almost the same age. Please. I need someone to talk to who isn’t some old man under orders to watch me like I’m a porcelain doll.”

The woman glances over her shoulder to where Anton and Ben stand against the wall, framing a bay window that looks out onto the extensive gardens surrounding the manor.

“Don’t worry about them,” I assure her. “They won’t do anything. Please.” Stretching out a leg under the table, I nudge out one of the chairs opposite me. “Sit. Please.”

“I—I,” she stammers, and my heart skitters slightly in my chest.

Is she scared or just shy? I’m about to press her once more when Marco strides into the room. He doesn’t even acknowledge the girl, but he takes a cup from her tray as he passes and continues through the room, heading toward the white double doors at the far end.

“Darling?”

Marco stops in his tracks and turns to me immediately. There’s no affection in his eyes when we meet, but whenever he looks at me, I get the feeling all he’s thinking about is when we fucked. “What?”

“Can she eat lunch with me?” I nod toward the woman. “I don’t know your rules around servants but I want her to.”

Marco’s brow lifts as if finally noticing the shy woman standing there. As he looks at her, I notice something odd. The woman doesn’t cower from him or even bow her head like the majority of the guards do. In fact, she doesn’t seem scared of him at all.

“Whatever, I don’t care,” Marco says flatly. He steps away, then swivels back a second later. “Kiss me,darling.”

The way he repeats the pet name back at me almost sounds like a threat, but I rise to it easily. Standing, I lean across the table and grab him by the tie. For such a tall, broad man, there’ssomething so attractive about jerking him about by such a thin piece of fabric. He moves easily for me, and I suspect he’s trying to sell our romance to any eyes that might be watching, but it thrills me nonetheless.

We kiss slowly, eyes open the entire time, which makes the contact of our lips infinitely more intense. His tongue licks briefly into my mouth and then I bite his lower lip, holding on even as we part. There’s a flash of crimson over his lip before he swipes it away with his tongue and I release his tie.

“Have a nice lunch,” Marco says, and then he’s gone.

“See?” I turn back to the woman and puff out my cheeks. “It’s as easy as that.”

“Okay.” The woman still seems hesitant as she sets the tray down on the table and slides into the chair I pushed out for her. “Thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tara.”

“I’m Gianna.”

“I know,” Tara replies, clasping her thin hands together. “I-I mean, they told us who you were the night Marco brought you home.”

“I bet that was an amazing meeting,” I chuckle, popping a grape into my mouth. “What did they tell you about me?”

“Nothing,” Tara replies immediately. “Well—they said there was nothing to tell because no one knew you.”

“Did they tell you to keep an eye on me?”

Tara shakes her head, but the flush that creeps up her cheeks tells me otherwise.

“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “I might not know the exact rules of this game, but I’ve played plenty in my time. This is just a richer version.” My attention drops to the fruit and cheese plate in front of me. With a quick twist of the vine, I pull some of the grapes free and pass them over to Tara.

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