Page 50 of Handsome Devil
I watched the industrial snacks she’d bought roll on the floor. I had four fridges, a pantry the size of Buckingham Palace, and two chefs on my payroll, and this idiot was living off prehistoric Rice Krispies from the bodega downstairs.
“Wrong man,” I announced. “I won’t die for your sins, but I’m happy to introduce you to some fun ones.”
“What a tantalizing offer.” Crouching down, she hurriedly collected her woeful dinner. “If only I were into megalomaniacal wankers.”
I clapped twice, turning on the main chandelier. Light flooded the room.
Gia squinted, her eyes readjusting. I stood up and sauntered over to her, taking her in.
It’d been a few days since I’d gotten a good look at her. It left me feeling resentful and on edge. I’d been cracking those math equations more often than I liked to admit. My numbers fascination got so bad I started counting sand grains in an hourglass.
Her high ponytail was sleek at the front and flipped out at the end, like a pinup girl. She styled her edges in soft swirls to frame her forehead, which I itched to trace with my fingers. Her makeup was dewy and soft. She always looked like she spent her nights sleeping inside rose petals.
She wore a practical woolly office dress and a resigned expression.
At least she’d stopped dressing like a call girl.
I knew she was dealing with a lot of bullshit after our surprise engagement announcement. The office had been standoffish andsuspicious of her, thinking we’d kept our relationship a secret so they’d confide in her. Rumors swirled that I had impregnated her, a reason for our hasty marriage.
I was probably the last person she wanted to see, and I could not find it in myself to care.
“Care to explain what you’re doing every day until midnight?” I stuffed my fists into my pockets.
Filippo and the rest of the Ferrante guards were due to arrive tomorrow morning, and I was in a prickly mood.
I knew she’d buck at the new arrangement.
“Not that it’s your business, but I spend time with my mother every night.” She tipped her chin up, giving me the frostiest, most repulsed expression in her arsenal.
Now came the part where I was supposed to ask how her mother was doing. Not because I cared, God forbid. If she died, the deal was off.
But I had bigger fish to fry.
“Have you purchased a wedding dress yet?”
“With what time exactly?” She shuffled junk food back into her bag. “I work two jobs since you transferred me to HR and assigned me to teach Rebecca the craft.”
“I’ll have a wedding gown sent your way tomorrow. I’m flying to Geneva for an eight-hour meeting tonight.”
“I’ll pray for a hurricane.”
“I’ll be here in time for the wedding.” I ignored her sarcasm.
“Don’t be so sure. Tomorrow is never guaranteed. A lot can happen between today and Thursday.”
“That’s true. Which brings me to our next subject.” My jaw locked. “A minor complication arose in one of my dealings. The Irish Mafia is after my throat. You’ll need to walk around with security until I take care of this.”
Gia’s face contorted in abhorrence. “I beg your pardon?”
“Bodyguards, Gia. They’re about to follow that perfect ass of yours everywhere you go. Work, social outings, gym, bathroom. You name it. It’s for your own protection.” A carnal need to touch her slammed into me. To bury my hand inside that perfect, naturally curly hair she always kept neatly straightened and devour that lovely mouth that curled in disgust every time I was in the same room with her.
I wanted to taste her hatred of me.
To roll it on my tongue.
To devour her desperation to escape me.
“Mafia, Tate? Really?” She blinked, stunned.
