Page 21 of Playing the Sicilian's Game of Revenge

Right?

Teo handed her his list of rules, and she tried to shake her traitorous thoughts away. She took the paper and skimmed over the harsh ink strokes, trying to use this ridiculous farce as enough of an insult to harden her foolish heart to him.

Any information gathered on Dante Marino will be immediately shared with me.

Well, she didn’t really care so much about that. As far as she saw it, they needed each other to create the worst-case scenario for Dante.

We will attend any and all events I see fit.

She tried not to scowl. He did not get to dictate when she went anywhere.

I will have wardrobe approval at such events.

She nearly laughed out loud, though she kept it in. Clearly he was trying to make her mad.

We will eat lunch together every workday from now on.

Smart, but she didn’t like it. Spending all this time together? No, she didn’t think that was wise at all.

I will drive you home from work every day—except on evenings we attend an event together.

Over her dead body.

It was an utterly absurd list, but when she looked at his self-satisfied expression, she knew it was on purpose. He thought her rules were silly, so he would make a few silly rules of his own. He probably thought she would explode over the wardrobe approval at the very least.

Well, she wasn’t going down without a fight, but it would be the fight she chose. Not the one he expected. She slid the rules back to him. “Teo, this is ridiculous.”

“Why?” he asked, too much innocence in his expression for anyone with a brain to believe.

“We don’t need to be in each other’s pockets for people to believe we’re engaged. The only person we have to fool is Dante Marino.”

“All of this will aid in our efforts to do exactly that—because for Dante to believe it, the media must believe it and report upon it. They must be interested enough to take our picture, to dig around. Now, if you will not come to my apartment, if you will not allow touch, then I’m afraid time is what you must give me to accomplish my goal.” He paused. “Our goal,” he amended.

But she didn’t believe he really saw it as our. He saw her as a tool. Maybe it hurt a little, but she didn’t have to be the tool he wanted. She could be the tool she chose. Right now, she chose to be calm and rational. “Driving me home breaks my rule of us being alone together. You’ll have to cross that one out.”

“Then I refuse your no touching rule.”

She didn’t react immediately. She made sure her expression was stoic. Throwing a fit or getting angry only seemed to play into his hand. She had to be as calm and collected as he was. As much of a strategic game player as he was.

When she spoke, her voice was cool and breezy. She hoped. “Why should you want to touch me, Teo? Surely you can slake your manly lust elsewhere.” The thought made her want to die, but she’d never, ever let him know that.

“Not as long as we are engaged, bedda.” He reached out, took her hand. The one with the fake engagement ring on her pointer finger. So much faking. So much pretending.

She wished the heat that seeped into her at his touch was either of those things. That her heart wouldn’t soar at the idea he might be faithful to her when all he was being faithful to was his revenge.

“You have my word,” he said, pulling her hand to his mouth. Pressing a kiss to the top of her hand.

For show.

She hated it. Hated the way it made her want his mouth on hers. Hated how it made her feel young and vulnerable and insipid—such a little fool who’d be fooled by him once then still allow attraction to cloud her thinking. Who—despite knowing better in a million different ways, many that had played out before her in the hovel she’d grown up in—thought she might be able to change him.

Wasn’t that her mother’s fatal flaw? Believing that her father would change? Would suddenly love her?

Saverina refused to let someone have that kind of control over her. Never. Ever. If she ever fell in love again—if she ever married—it would be for real love. The kind that was reciprocated. The kind you didn’t have to fight for.

Control. In this moment she had to find some. “Very well. I will amend my no touching rule. You may engage in public displays if necessary.” She withdrew her hand from his with a little jerk against his grip. “On the condition you will cross off driving me home every night. If we arrive at events together, we will use a driver.”

“Whatever you say, principessa.”

---