Page 11 of His Innocent's Passionate Awakening

‘I don’t want to go anywhere with you,’ Artie said. ‘How could you think I would? I don’t even like you.’

His eyes dipped to her mouth then back to her gaze. ‘Artemisia, we need to be seen together in public. It’s not going to work unless we present as a normal couple. We’ll have to live together most, if not all, of the time.’

Her stomach turned over. ‘L-live together?’

‘But of course. Isn’t that what husbands and wives do?’

Artie gulped. Her skin prickled, her legs trembled, her mind raced. Live with Luca Ferrantelli? What would that entail? She couldn’t even leave her own home. How on earth would she move into his? Should she tell him about her social phobia? Would he understand? No. Not likely. Few people did. Even the professionals who had visited her at the castello had more or less given up on her.

Her gaze moved out of reach of his and she fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt for something to do with her hands. ‘I’m sorry, but couldn’t you move in here? I mean, this place is huge and you can have your own suite of rooms and we’d hardly have to see each other and no one would ever know we’re not—’

‘No.’ His tone was so adamant the word could have been underlined in thick black ink.

Artie swung away from him, trying to get her breathing back under control. She was light-headed and nauseous, her stomach churning fast enough to make butter. She was going to faint... No, she wasn’t. She was going to fight it. Fight him. She took a deep breath and turned around to face him. ‘I will not leave my home. Not for you. A marriage of convenience is supposed to be convenient for both parties. It’s not convenient for me to move right now. I’ve only just buried my father. I’d like more time to...to spend grieving out of the view of the public.’ It wasn’t completely a lie. She missed her father, not because they were particularly close but because looking after him had given structure and purpose to her life.

Luca studied her for a long moment, his expression giving nothing away. She tried not to squirm under his unnerving scrutiny but it was a mammoth effort and only added to her light-headedness. ‘All right. We’ll delay the honeymoon.’

Relief swept through her and she brushed back her hair from her face, her hand not quite as steady as she would have liked. ‘Thank you.’

She hadn’t been in a car since coming home from hospital after the accident. She hadn’t been in a plane or train or bus since she was fifteen. She hadn’t been around more than two or three people in a decade. Her life was contained within these four ancient stone walls and she couldn’t see it changing any time soon.

Luca closed the distance between them and held her gaze for another beat or two. ‘I realise your father’s financial situation has come as a shock to you. And I understand how resistant you are to my plan to turn things to your advantage. But I want my grandfather to see us married and living as a couple.’

‘Why is that so important to you?’

‘He’s got cancer but he won’t agree to treatment.’

‘Oh... I’m sorry.’

Luca ran a hand down his face, the sound of his palm scraping over his regrowth loud in the silence. ‘Unless he has treatment soon, he will die within a year. His dream has always been to see me settled down with a nice young woman. He disapproves of my casual approach to relationships and has been at pains to let me know at every opportunity. I want him to find a reason to live, knowing I’ve found a suitable bride.’

A suitable bride.

If only Luca knew how unsuitable she really was. Would he still want to marry her if he knew the truth about her? ‘Will your grandfather be well enough to come here for the wedding?’

‘I hope so.’

Artie bit her lip. She was conflicted about keeping her social anxiety from Luca but neither could she risk losing her home if he decided to withdraw his offer of marriage. She didn’t know him well enough to trust he would make allowances for her. He’d already told her he was a ruthless businessman who didn’t allow emotion to cloud his judgement. How could she hope he might be understanding and compassionate about her mental health issues? ‘But you only know me as my father presented me. I might be the worst person in the world.’

A lazy smile tilted his mouth and his eyes darkened. ‘I like what I’ve seen so far.’

Artie could feel colour pouring into her cheeks. Could feel a faint hollow ache building, beating between her thighs. Could feel a light tingling in her breasts. His gaze went to her mouth and she couldn’t stop herself from sweeping them with the tip of her tongue. His eyes followed the movement of her tongue and liquid warmth spread through her core like warmed treacle. What invisible chemistry was doing this to her? What potent force did Luca Ferrantelli have over her? She had never been so aware of another person. Never so aware of her own body. Her senses were on high alert, her pulse racing.

Suddenly he wasn’t standing a metre away but was close enough for her to smell the sharp, clean citrus notes of his aftershave. Had he moved or had she?

She looked into the depths of his gaze and her heart skipped a beat. And another. And another, until it felt like tiny racing footsteps were pounding against the membrane surrounding her heart.

He lifted his hand to her face, trailing his index finger down the slope of her cheek from just above her ear down to the base of her chin. Every nerve in her skin exploded with sensation. Every pore acutely sensitive to his faintest touch.

‘You are much more beautiful in person than in the photo your father showed me.’ Luca’s tone was a bone-melting blend of rough and smooth. Honey and gravel. Temptation and danger.

Artie couldn’t take her eyes off his mouth, drawn by a force as old as time. Male and female desire meeting. Wanting. Needing. Tempting. ‘I don’t get called Artemisia...most people call me Artie.’

Oh, for pity’s sake. Couldn’t you think of something a little more sophisticated to say?

Luca gave a crooked smile and something warm spread through her chest. ‘Artie. It’s cute. I like it. Artemisia, Queen of Halicarnassus. She was an ally of the Persian King Xerces in 430 BCE and reputedly brave in battle.’

That’s me—brave. Not.

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