Page 7 of His to Ruin

“I was thinking Antonio wants his brother back in the States and if his wife was there he’d follow.”

Damiano laughs mirthlessly. “You’re so full of shit. You didn’t do it to please Antonio.”

“No,” Piotr admits. “I did it as a favor to Olivia.”

“A favor in return for what?” Lorenzo knows everything men like Piotr do is transactional.

“Dinner.”

That surprises me. “Dinner?”

“Tomorrow night,” he confirms. “I’ll let you know where and when.”

He addresses that to Damiano, not me. There’s no point expressing my outrage at the patriarchal nonsense of deferring to one of my male relatives because nobody here will listen. In their medieval minds, an unmarried woman is the responsibility of the head of her family. As Antonio isn’t here, that’s Damiano.

“Fine.” I can’t be sure, but I think I see a flicker of disappointment on Piotr’s face. I don’t think he liked my easy agreement. Perhaps he wanted some resistance so he could bark orders at me once more. “Dinner tomorrow.”

I’m sure he’s going to want a lot more than dinner in exchange for helping Giulia, but I’ll deal with further demands when he makes them. For now, I just want to go back to Damiano’s house in the city, slip into a warm bath, and try to put this horrible day behind me.

CHAPTER 3

Piotr

If I were any other patron, the wait staff would have asked me to vacate my table by now. It’s been a half hour since I first sat down in my favorite spot at the back of the restaurant and Olivia still hasn’t arrived. The servers, sensibly, haven’t pressured me to place an order. They’ve brought me a complimentary bottle of Beluga Gold Line, an acceptable vodka, and some olives to graze on, but haven’t pestered me beyond that.

They know me well at Gianetta’s. I come here whenever I’m in Florence. Lorenzo Volante introduced me to the place when he was trying to add it to his property portfolio. The pretty young owner, Lucia Lazaro, refused to sell. The restaurant is her inheritance from her grandmother and I suspect she would rather die than hand it over to a Volante.

It won’t come to that. Lorenzo has employed none of his usual strong-arm tactics to force her out. He respected her decision. I think he’s impressed by Lucia’s backbone. I certainly admireher integrity. It’s one of the reasons I choose to dine here. I also enjoy thebistecca alla fiorentina, which is the best I’ve ever eaten.

I glance at the time on my cellphone, which is sitting on the white cloth-covered table in front of me. Most men would give up on their date after this long of a wait, but I know the lovely Olivia will show. She’s just indulging in one of her little rebellions. I’ve watched her closely since she first got on my radar. I’ve seen how she operates.

With five brothers keeping her in check when she’s home in New York and her cousins doing the same here in Italy, she pushes back in whatever small ways she can. Usually, she makes her displeasure known by wearing clothes her family will disapprove of. She picks dresses that are sinfully short or that show too much cleavage. At other times, she’ll protest by adopting the persona of an ice princess and refusing to engage with the people around her. I’ve seen her snub billionaires and film stars just to show her brothers she’s pissed. I swear she’d thumb her nose at the Pope if she thought it would send a message to Antonio.

It all stems from boredom, of course. A woman like Olivia wasn’t made to be a mere accessory. She’s not some ornament to be brought out to dazzle friends and rivals alike. I’ve seen her academic transcripts. She has a GPA of 4.0 that she may never put to good use. That must be frustrating.

The Volante brothers don’t know what to do with her most of the time. I’m guessing that’s why Antonio sent her away. He’d run out of options for keeping her in line. It’s not a problem I’ll face. Once Olivia is my wife, there are many ways I can deal with her if she misbehaves. She may enjoy some of my punishments. Others won’t be so pleasant.

I might not wait until my ring is on her finger to teach her a lesson. Her lateness shows a lack of respect that can’t go unpunished. While I might forgive a couple of minutes, she’s pushed it too far. I’m a busy man. I have better things to do with my time than hang around like some loser, hoping my date will turn up.

As I’m contemplating whether to spank her ass or make her crawl on hands and knees to beg for forgiveness, an awed hush falls over the room. I don’t need to look up to know that Olivia has caused the lull in conversation. Though she often slips into a room quietly, determined to go unnoticed, when she wants to make an entrance, she commands everyone’s attention.

She strides into the room with her shoulders back and head held high. Tall and slender, she wouldn’t look out of place on a high fashion runway. Brunette hair tumbles over her shoulder in loose waves. A red dress clings to her curves. It plunges low to reveal the swell of her breasts, and falls to mid-thigh to reveal long, toned legs. Her lips are painted in an arresting crimson shade that complements her dress.

It’s armor, I realize as she waves off the hostess’s attempt to greet her and heads straight for me. Olivia has come here to do battle. She looks like a warrior, but when she reaches me a crack forms in the façade. Her lip wobbles just once, and fear glistens in her eye.

As I rise to greet her, she stiffens. Before I can step around the table to pull out the chair for her, she denies me the chance to be a gentleman and drops onto the seat. Regaining her composure, she glares at me in challenge. Good. I don’t want a woman who cowers in my presence. Olivia will be my queen in public, ruling by my side. Behind closed doors, she’ll be my wanton whore, begging desperately for my cock. I’ll ruin her for any other man.

“Olivia.” I retake my seat. “You’re late.”

“Sorry about that.” Her tone drips with insincerity. “Wardrobe issues.”

That, I believe. Damiano probably gave her a hard time about what she was going to wear tonight. If this is the dress he approved, I can’t imagine what the others looked like. My friend expects the women in his family to display modesty, as do I. There’s little of that on display, but Olivia will soon learn. My wife will not expose herself to other men’s gazes.

“Damiano didn’t accompany you?” I had expected him to bring her to me and make threats about ensuring her virtue remained intact. He needn’t worry about that. I don’t intend to fuck Olivia until she’s legally mine.

“He dropped me off outside.” Olivia’s tone drips with practiced disdain. “I told him not to bother walking me in.”

I respect that. Olivia could have tried to use her cousin as a shield, but she didn’t need anyone to hold her hand. She’s scared of me. I can see it in her eyes, but she doesn’t let fear rule her. In fact, she channels it into a fierceness most men would cower from.

---