Page 64 of Keeping My Bride

Chapter 42

Verona

WHEN LUCA TOLD me to dress up and that we were going out in the city tonight, I have to admit I was a bit nervous. I took my time getting ready, picking out the perfect dress for a night out on the town.

Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I turn around several times, making sure I look perfect. The floor-length silver sequin dress fits me perfectly. The front is modest with a scalloped V-neck. But that is where the modesty stops with this dress. Slipping into a matching pair of silver high heels, the slit up the side all the way to my hip reveals my entire leg and thigh. And the back is scandalous as well, dipping almost too low and revealing almost too much.

I decide to wear a matching shawl over it until we get to our destination. I have no idea if we’ll be indoors or outdoors, so I don’t want to get cold.

My makeup is smoky and dark with a pale pink lip, and I decided to wear my hair down in loose waves. Smiling at my reflection, I think Luca will approve of my decisions tonight. Part of me wonders if we’ll even make it to where we’re going.

My core clenches just thinking about how many times he was inside of me today. Too many to count. It’s like he can’t keep his hands off of me. Not that I’m complaining. I want him just as much, maybe even more at times. Even though our marriage was out of convenience, we’re certainly acting like real newlyweds.

I walk out of our bedroom and downstairs, carefully navigating the stairs in my sky-high heels. Luca emerges from his office and stops in his tracks when his eyes meet mine.

I watch him openly peruse my body from head to toe and back again. His tongue slips out to skate over his bottom lip, and I can’t help but be mesmerized by the action.

He’s dressed impeccably in a three-piece tailored suit that fits him perfectly. It’s all black, and he looks dark and dangerous. He fixes an expensive watch on his wrist as he walks over to me; and when he reaches my side, I’m met with a kiss to my cheek.

“You look lovely,” he whispers in my ear before gently biting my earlobe. “Fuck, I wish we didn’t have to go to this thing. I want to stay home, send the staff away and fuck you in every room of this house tonight.”

His dirty words have my thighs squeezing together. “Do we have to go?” I ask, blinking up at him.

The corners of his mouth tilt up in a smile. “My naughty girl. You tempt me so.” Cupping my face in his hands, he kisses me so passionately that my knees threaten to buckle. And just as soon as the kiss began, it ends, leaving me wanting more. “I promised a friend I would attend,” he says begrudgingly. Luca grabs my hand and leads me to the front door. “Let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave, and the sooner I can be inside of you tonight.”

His filthy promise has me buzzing as we climb into the car driven by Benito. On the way, Luca’s hand strokes my bare leg through the slit in my dress. My entire body is buzzing and on fire by the time we arrive.

I’m surprised to see we’ve parked in front of an art gallery. There are people lining the sidewalks, taking pictures, and waiting for the show.

Benito opens the door for us, and Luca climbs out first. Then, he turns back to me, extends his hand and gives me a devastatingly beautiful smile. I take his hand and let him help me out of the backseat of the car.

I decide to leave my shawl behind, and the moment Luca sees the back of my dress, he hisses beside me. “Fuck, honey, if I had known what the back of your dress looked like, you wouldn’t have made it out the front door,” he whispers in my ear before leading me into the huge building with floor-to-ceiling windows and glass doors.

Two men swing open the glass doors, allowing us entrance into the gallery. There are only a handful of people including us in the main room. A man dressed in a bedazzled pink and white tie-dye suit comes rushing over the moment he spots Luca. They speak in rapid Italian to each other, and the man air kisses both of Luca’s cheeks before grabbing his hand and shaking it. “Thank you for coming to my show.” Then the man sets his gaze on me from behind his matching pink and white glasses. “And this must be the wife I’ve heard so much about.”

So Luca has been talking about me.I sneak a glance at my husband and can’t help but smile at how uncomfortable he is at being exposed by his friend. I turn my attention back to the artist. “I’m Verona.”

“Verona Vitale,” the man gushes. “Ah, it sounds like a supervillain name. I love it!” he exclaims with a chuckle. “I’m Leonardo Lombardi, but you can call me Leo.” He sweeps his hand around the large room before adding, “Please take a look around before the rest of the people waiting are allowed in. VIP status for a good friend of mine,” he says with a wink to Luca. “I’ll see you both soon,” he tells us before walking over to greet another couple who just walked through the door.

Luca leads me over to the paintings hanging on the wall. They look grandiose and amazing against the plain white wall behind them. Luca holds my hand as we walk. He squeezes it gently and says, “Go ahead and ask. I know you have questions.”

“Many,” I admit with a grin. “Where did you meet someone so…interesting?” I can’t help but ask. Luca seems to attract more of the dark and serious type, so it’s nice to see him with such a bright light in his catalog of friends.

“He used to be a waiter at my favorite restaurant in the city. He was always so depressed, rarely smiled, but he was one hell of a server.”

I can’t see Leonardo Lombardi wearing a dull uniform, waiting on tables. No wonder he was depressed. He seems like he’s larger than life now; happiness personified.

“One day I asked him what he wanted to do with his life besides wait tables. And he told me he wanted to be an artist.” Luca walks to another painting and studies it intently. “I told him to show me his art, and he did.” He smiles fondly at the memory. “Let’s just say I was blown away.”

I look over my shoulder at Leo as he walks around, greeting people with a huge smile on his face. “You helped him, didn’t you?” I ask, turning my attention back to my husband.

“I gave him some contacts in the art world. Set him up with some funds. No big deal,” he says, waving it off like it’s nothing.

But it’s not nothing. He changed this young man’s life. And now look at him — hosting his own art show in a huge New York City gallery. Not many people can say they accomplished that in their lifetime.

I squeeze Luca’s hand and beam up at him. “You’re amazing. Do you know that?”

He simply shakes his head. “I just threw some money at something, and it worked out.”

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