Page 8 of His Innocent's Passionate Awakening

She stuffed the embroidery items haphazardly back in the basket, pricking her finger with one of her needles.

‘Ouch.’ She stuck her finger in her mouth and sucked up the droplets of blood. She removed her finger from her mouth and gave Rosa a baleful look. ‘He had no right to give me such an expensive ring. I’ll have to marry him now.’

But deep down you want to, don’t you? Marriage to Luca Ferrantelli just might give you some control over your life. The control you’ve been seeking for a long time. Money. Freedom. Not to mention a wickedly handsome ‘paper’ husband...

Rosa bent down and carefully sorted through Artie’s basket for a moment. ‘Ah, here it is.’ She handed Artie the engagement ring. ‘You’d better put it back on and leave it on until you give it back to Signor Ferrantelli.’

Give it back?

Lose her one chance of taking back control of her life?

Lose her home?

Artie slipped the ring back on her finger, her thoughts finally untangling. ‘I’m not giving it back. Maybe you’re right. This is my chance—maybe my only chance—to take control of my life. I’m going to make this work for me. On my terms. It’s only for six months—what have I got to lose?’

Rosa raised one brow. ‘Your heart?’

Artie set her mouth in a determined line. ‘Not going to happen. This is a business deal. If Luca Ferrantelli can keep his emotions out of this, then so can I.’

* * *

Luca could not remember looking forward to a meeting more than returning to the Castello Mireille the following day to see Artemisia Bellante. Something about her intrigued him in a way few people did. He’d expected her to be biddable and submissive and instead found her spirited defiance a refreshing change from all the sycophants who surrounded him, pandering to his every whim. He’d found it so hard to take his eyes off her—slim, but with generous curves in all the right places, flashing brown eyes, wild, curly dark brown hair and a ski-slope nose, a stubborn chin and a cherry-red mouth—he’d almost offered her a real marriage. Only joking. No real marriages for him. Ever. He neither wanted nor needed love from a partner. Love was a reckless emotion that had the potential to cause immeasurable harm. He’d had a ringside seat to see just how much harm.

But a six-month hands-off arrangement to give his grandfather the motivation to get chemo was definitely doable. He hadn’t been able to save his father or brother but he could save his grandfather. And marrying Artemisia Bellante was the way to do it. The only way.

In all their phone and email conversations, Franco Bellante had told him Artemisia was shy around men. Luca hadn’t seen too much shyness. He’d seen sass and spirit and a damped down sensuality that was irresistibly attractive. He’d seen her surreptitious glances at his mouth and felt the supercharged energy in the air when their gazes collided. Did that mean she would be interested in tweaking the terms of their paper marriage?

Don’t even think about it.

Luca knew how to control his impulses. He had learned the hard way not to rush into things without careful consideration first. Artemisia Bellante might be the most alluring young woman he’d met in a long time but a deal was a deal and his word was his word. Their paper marriage would last six months and no longer. Nonno’s doctors had given him no more than a year to live if he didn’t start treatment soon. The clock was ticking on the old man’s life and Luca was determined to present him with the perfect choice of bride.

The housekeeper led him to the same salon as yesterday, where Artemisia was waiting for him standing by the windows. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her posture guarded. She looked regal and elegant even though she was wearing casual clothes—blue jeans and a white shirt with a patterned scarf draped artfully around her neck. The jeans highlighted the shapely curves of her hips and the white shirt brought out the creamy tone of her skin. Her chin was at a proud height, her deep brown eyes shining with unmistakable dislike.

Hot and heavy desire tingled in his groin. Her dislike of him was a bigger turn-on than he’d expected. Dating had become a little too easy for him lately—a little too boring and predictable. But nothing about Artemisia Bellante was boring or predictable.

Rein it in, buddy. You’re not going there, remember?

Luca gave a sweeping bow. ‘Buongiorno, Artemisia. Have you made your decision?’

Her indrawn breath was like the hiss of a cornered cat. ‘I have.’

‘And?’ Luca was only conscious of holding his breath when his lungs began to tighten. He wanted her as his bride. No one else was going to do. He had to have her. He couldn’t explain his intractable stance other than that something about her ticked all the boxes.

She held his gaze with her icy one, her jaw set, her colour high. ‘I will marry you.’

The relief that swept through him momentarily caught him off guard. It wasn’t that he’d expected her to say no but somehow he hadn’t realised until now how much he’d wanted her to say yes. ‘Good. I’m glad you see the sense in doing so.’

Her eyebrows rose ever so slightly above her glittering eyes. ‘However, I have some conditions on my acceptance of your offer.’

Luca was not one to allow people to push him around but something about her expression made him make an exception. She stirred him in a way he had never been stirred before. His blood heated with a backbeat of desire, his nostrils flaring to take in the flowery scent of her perfume. ‘Go on.’

She unfolded her arms and smoothed her hands down the front of her thighs. He ran his gaze down the slim length of her legs and her neat calves. She was wearing light brown suede ankle boots that gave her an inch or two more height. But even with the benefit of heels, she still wouldn’t make it to the top of his shoulder. But that wasn’t the only thing she was wearing—his grandmother’s engagement ring winked proudly, almost defiantly, on her left hand. The arabesque design chosen so lovingly by his nonno to give to the love of his life—Luca’s grandmother—suited Artemisia’s hand as if designed especially for her. A faint alarm bell sounded at the back of his mind. He would have to be extra careful to keep his emotions out of this arrangement. Their relationship was a business deal and nothing more. There was no point feeling a little sentimental about seeing his grandmother’s ring on Artie’s hand. There was nothing sentimental about his choice of engagement ring. Sure, he could have bought any other ring but he had deliberately used his nonna’s ring knowing it would add authenticity to his committed relationship status in the eyes of his grandfather.

It was his grandfather who was sentimental.

Not him.

‘Won’t you sit down?’ Artie’s tone was all cool politeness but her eyes were hard with bitterness.

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