Page 16 of Keeping My Bride

Chapter 11

Verona

LATER THAT NIGHT, I’m requested downstairs for dinner with Luca. I’m surprised when I enter the dining room and it’s just the two of us. I frown, hoping that Dante had something to eat at least.

Luca is still wearing his suit from the wedding, making me feel completely out of place in my comfy top and yoga pants. His tie is missing now, though, and the top few buttons of his black shirt are undone. I’m starting to think that this might be how Luca does casual.

I approach the table and see bowls of a cream soup and a variety of grilled sandwiches with different kinds of cheeses and meats.

“It’s nothing fancy,” Luca says when I sit down to the right of him at the long dining table. “I haven’t hired a professional chef yet.”

I nod in understanding. I didn’t expect anything extravagant, but I don’t tell him that. I think the less I talk around him, the better.

We eat our meal in silence. The sandwiches are really tasty. The soup is a little bland, but I eat it anyway since I’m hungry. I’ve never been one to turn down food. My aunt was never the best cook, and the boarding school meals were atrocious, so I grew accustomed to eating whatever was served to me. It was either eat or starve, and I obviously didn’t want to starve.

After I’m finished, I wipe my mouth with the linen napkin and turn to my husband. “Luca, about earlier…” My voice trails off, but he holds up a hand, stopping me.

“I know. Dante told me everything,” he says.

I furrow my brows at that. Dante had no right to tell Luca. I was going to tell my husband on my own eventually. Dante didn’t need to share my traumatic childhood since it’s not his story to tell.

Benito enters the room to announce there’s a delivery.

“Yes, upstairs. You know which room,” Luca says cryptically.

“Do you always get deliveries this late in the evening?” I ask him.

He turns to me and says with a smirk, “Only when they’re absolutely necessary.”

I stare at him for several seconds before looking away. A server brings out dessert, which consists of different kinds of cakes and pastries. They all look good, but I only take one piece of mint chocolate cake, my favorite. With everything being so new and my nerves on edge, I hardly have an appetite. I’m not even able to finish the delicious cake.

Luca frowns at my plate before he meets my eyes. “Not up to your standards?” he questions.

What is it with him and thinking everything is beneath me? I’m not some stuck-up prude like he clearly thinks I am. “I’m full,” I simply answer.

He nods, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “I’ll try to get a chef and kitchen staff hired this week, so that the housekeepers aren’t doing the cooking and cleaning.”

Well, if the housekeepers are cooking, they aren’t doing a terrible job. I’ve had better, but I’ve also had much, much worse. And if this is what I have to eat every night, then I’m fine with it.

We sit in silence as I sip my water and Luca nurses a small glass of dark liquor. It isn’t until Benito enters the room to let Luca know the delivery was taken care of that Luca tells me I’m free to return to my room for the evening.

I stare at him, blinking. I figured on our wedding night, of all nights, that he would want to…

“What?” he snaps as he glares at me, like I’m wasting his time.

“Nothing. I…”

“You what?” he asks, standing and towering over me.

I shrink in his presence. I don’t know what I was thinking. Do I even want to sleep with a man like Luca? The answer is a clear and astounding no. I need to get my ass to my room before he changes his mind and forces himself on me. “Goodnight,” I tell him before leaving the room.

I decide to wash this stressful day away with a hot bath. I soak for what feels like hours before I’m finally calm enough to get out. I towel dry my hair and then wrap a white robe around me as I walk into the bedroom.

I go to the closet to change for bed and stop dead in my tracks. The once almost empty closet is now filled with clothes. New, unfamiliar clothes.

In awe, my fingers breeze over the soft, expensive fabrics of the racks of new shirts and dresses. I check the tags, and sure enough, they’re all in my size. It makes me wonder if Luca guessed or if he snooped in my closet when I wasn’t in my room and checked the tags of my old clothes.

Speaking of my old clothes…I go back to the rack I had them on. My heart sinks as I realize my stuff is gone. All of my clothes are missing…including my mother’s dress.

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