Page 26 of Till Death Do Us Part

“What’s the plan?” I blurt, looking between the two men at either side of me. Leonardo’s lips flicker, a ghost of a smile passing over them before he looks down at me. Even in these ridiculously high heels, I barely come up to his shoulders.

“You and Ant get seen together for a second,” he answers, looking at the man in question with an expression I cannot read. “Then he deals with business, and you busy yourself with spending all his money on the machines, down a few drinks, and then eventually it’s time for home.”

An ache spreads at my chest at the word home. I’m not even sure I have one of those anymore, and the mansion certainly isn’t that. Nodding, I flick my gaze over the room, watching as waiters dip in and out from between the guests, their hands full of trays with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. I snatch a glass, downing half the contents in one gulp.

The bubbly liquid does little to settle the knot in my stomach, and I think I will need something less sparkly if I plan to make it through this evening in one piece.

Antonio moves to the centre of the room, all eyes turning to him as he speaks over the hushed voices of the waiting patrons.

“Thank you all for coming.” His voice carries over every inch, the guests soaking it up while he speaks to them. He reaches a hand behind him, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his chest and letting his arm wrap around my back. My muscles tense under his hold, my heart thundering as he holds me close. “For those of you that aren’t aware, this is my wife, Pippa.”

A flush coats my cheeks, my face burning in embarrassment when everyone moves their gaze to me. Men look on curiously, while several women spear me with looks of envy and anger. One woman, a blonde standing off to the side, glares at me with nothing short of pure viciousness in her expression.

From a distance, she reminds me of Marilyn Monroe with her shoulder-length hair styled into big curls and a bright crimson red painted on her lips. She’s beautiful, or would be, if her face wasn’t scrunched up like a pug.

I lift my champagne glass, taking a sip before sending her a small finger wave. Growing up with my sisters, if there is one thing I have learnt how to handle—it’s women. You don’t get far in a household full of girls without knowing how to hold your own and stand your ground.

Antonio turns back to me, watching me curiously for a moment before loosening his hold and stalking off without a word or a backwards glance. Blowing out a breath, I relax my muscles and move my gaze over the dispersing crowd. Guess it’s just me and Leonardo then.

Brilliant.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Don’tyouthinkyou’vehad enough, Princess?” Leonardo asks when I grab my fifth glass of champagne, or perhaps it’s the sixth . . . I’m not sure, but it doesn’t matter. The only way I’m surviving in this moment is by staying numb, and the amber liquid I tip down my throat is one of very few ways to keep that numbness.

“Don’t you think you should be schmoozing?”

“Do I strike you as the type to schmooze?” he deadpans, his face blank, bar a tiny flicker at the corner of his lips.Not that I’m looking at his full lips.

Turning back to the table, I watch the tiny white ball spin around the roulette wheel. I’m not much for gambling, but the excitement in the air when people win, or the grumbles in frustration when they lose, is oddly thrilling. There’s something about watching their expressions change or their body language alter, depending on the outcome of their bets.

“Aren’t you bored?” I ask him, flicking my gaze to his. He watches me curiously, a slight tilt to his head. He raises a brow, a question on his face as he waits for me to elaborate. “Babysitting me. It cannot be the thrilling experience you are used to in your line of work.”

He smiles then, wrapping a strand of my hair around his finger. “Perhaps. Though, maybe you’re more thrilling than you give yourself credit for. Trouble seems to follow you around wherever you go.”

“I don’t think it’s me that finds trouble.” I scoff, shaking my head. “My life was awfully quiet and peaceful until the day of my wedding.”

He hums but says nothing further. He continues playing with my hair and I know I should look away from his gaze, but I can’t. There’s something magnetic about him, drawing me in and holding me there until he’s ready to let go. A comfort too, in his eyes, a comfort I haven’t felt in a long while.

We stay like that for a long minute, our eyes locked together. Neither of us speak, but his finger creeps from my hair to my jaw, stroking the sensitive skin there.

A shrill voice comes from behind him, breaking the spell between us. I pull in a shuddering breath, closing my eyes for a second before pulling away from his hand and turning to face the newcomer.

The same blonde from the lobby, the one with the face like a slapped arse, wraps long manicured fingers around Leonardo’s bicep. She leans in, pressing her obviously fake chest into his arm before speaking.

“Leo, darling,” she preens, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. “How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Charlotte.” He smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. An ache forms in my chest when she stares up at him with stars in her eyes, though that’s the alcohol—it has to be.

I refuse to accept any other explanation for the uneasy feeling.

Instead of watching the two of them, I turn back to the table and down my champagne. The numbness has worn off, and I need it back before I let my emotions take hold of me.

Hopping off my stool, I walk around them and move towards the bar for something stronger—much stronger. Leonardo’s gaze follows me the whole way, burning me with his eyes, but he doesn’t pause in his conversation with the busty blonde.

Not surprising, really.

Men only ever want one thing from a woman.

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