Page 79 of Red Retaliation
“Trying to escape again? Don’t you remember what happened the last time you thought about doing that?”
I swing around to find Liam, his arms folded across his wide chest. My heart lurches. How did I not hear or sense him behind me? Was he one of the men I just heard? “Erm... no... I was just...”
“Just what?”
The way Liam’s eyes rake over my body makes me shudder. “I was thinking about Steve,” I blurt. “Like you just said, the last time I saw this door, he... Never mind. I need to get ready.” I stalk past, half expecting him to grab me.
“Get ready for what?”
“I’m going out for dinner tonight,” I call over my shoulder, making sure I wear a pleasant smile. “I’m not sure where Red has booked, but he said to dress up.”
I continued walking, silently congratulating myself on Liam’s silence.
Unable to wipe the grin off my face for getting one over on that arsehole of a man, I head up the stairs towards my room with a spring in my step. As much as I have no wish to have dinner with Red, allowing him further opportunities to manipulate me into being one of his puppets, the prospect of spending the evening with him is worth it just to wipe the sneer off Liam Bateman’s face.
CHAPTER
56
Red
NODDING AT THE WAITER filling up both our glasses of Romanée Conti, I then wait for him to move away from the table before turning my concentration back to Arianna. I didn’t expect her shift in demeanor this afternoon to be what it is now. I expected indignant rage or crucifying embarrassment following my glaring rejection, but she shows neither.
Much to my surprise, she appears more relaxed than I’ve seen her yet. I’m not exaggerating in describing her ashappy. It’s confusing and, I must admit, not what I’d hoped for.
Pulling my suit jacket sleeve back, I glance at my Rolex. Almost eight o’clock, yet we’ve barely said two words to each other. My mind is still dissecting that hand-delivered note, allegedly sent by Edoardo Bristoni. Despite my analysis, I’m no further along in thinking of alternative senders, even though the niggling doubt it’s Bristoni, remains.
I’m edgy and stressed, and Arianna’s confidence and grace disconcert me. It isn’t supposed to run like this. I’m not supposed to feel off-kilter by this unexpected about-turn. It only leaves me open to notice the other things I want to blank out.
Like how drop-dead fucking gorgeous she is.
I can’t help my eyes from running over the tight-fitting satin cocktail dress she wears tonight. It brings out the blue highlights of her eyes and, not for the first time, I regret my decision to rebuff her when she finally gets on her knees to beg for me.
Remember, she’s a Galvatore.
Oh well, I asked her to dress classy, and she has. With bells on!
But the way she’s done her hair; the way those wavy tendrils fall free from the rest piled up on her head to cascade around her bare shoulders and with her flawless skin radiant in the ambient amber lighting of the private booth I made sure was available, she’s driving me to distraction.
Dell’Oro’s restaurant is one of my favorites, and although I haven’t been here for some time, I appreciate the maître d’ ensuring this particular table was available for me, like it always was.
Arianna studies me over the rim of her wineglass. Taking a leisurely sip, she slowly runs her tongue along her bottom lip.
My groin tightens.
She’s doing this on purpose. I must not forget that this woman is a manipulative bitch. I can’t let my guard drop again. I’ve done that once already, and it got me nothing but shit. Rolling my shoulders, I take a cigarette from my packet and tap the end on the table. “Mind if I smoke?” I light up before she can respond.
“I’m surprised you chose an Italian as your restaurant of choice... Is this your way of apologizing because you think I’ll appreciate the food of my country?”
Arianna’s tone isn’t sarcastic - more mischievous, but it won’t work. “I have nothing to apologize for, princess,” I smirk, playing her back at whatever she’s doing. “Your company has no bearing on my choice. Dell’Oro’s is a favorite of mine.”
“So much of a favorite, the maître d’ said it’s beenmonthssince you were last here!” She arches an eyebrow, leaving me to silently condemn Adriano for mentioning that. Instead, I smile at the woman who, according to the rest of the general public, is my new wife, who I’m “blissfully happy” with. If only they knew... However, several people clocked our arrival, therefore it’s important to keep up appearances.
I shrug, keeping a well-practiced smile in place. “When you’re busy, certain things take precedence over frivolities, such as eating out, but...” I reach over the table and take Arianna’s hand. “...I have to make exceptions now I have such a beautiful wife who must not remain hidden behind closed doors.”
Ah, there it is - the flash of irritation in her violet eyes and the immediate knee-jerk reaction to pull her hand from mine. But she knows better. Having a reputation to uphold is the only thing keeping her from ripping her hand away from mine.
I take the opportunity to rub my thumb rhythmically against Arianna’swrist. Her pulse is rapid, and if my touch does to her what the feel of her skin is doing to me, then I’m making her squirm. How I’d love to slip my hand underneath this pure white tablecloth and slide it between her legs to prove she’s wet for me.
