Page 5 of The Sicilian’s Deal For 'I Do'

‘You bought a ticket,’ she parroted, eyes huge. ‘Erm, why?’

He shrugged indolently. ‘Why not? I have the money.’

‘But this is myparents’charity,’ she said quickly, lifting her champagne glass and draining it completely.

‘So it is.’

Her lips parted with indignation. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

He watched her with such a look of relaxation that she was sure it was fake. Either that, or he truly didn’t care about the way he’d humiliated her and upended her life, not to mention the pain he’d caused her parents. The gall of him to appear like this, wearing a tuxedo and looking so damned gorgeous. How dared he? Next minute, he’d tell her he was here with some supermodel or something. Grinding her teeth, she flashed him a look that was pure resentment.

‘I mean it, Luca. You need to leave.’

Instead, he took a step closer. Mia braced. Waves of heat seemed to rush towards her, radiating from his body, reminding her of when they’d first met and she’d been so completely overwhelmed by him and her desire for him. She squeezed her champagne glass more tightly, wishing it had magical refilling capabilities.

‘Why?’

She was at a loss for words. Shaking her head, she finally said, ‘Isn’t that obvious?’

‘Not to me.’

‘You...you...you left me on our wedding day!’ she spluttered, then quickly looked around to make sure no one had witnessed her outburst. She lifted her fingertips to her forehead, tried to remember that it had been a year ago, that she was different now, that her whole life was different. Not only that, his treatment of Mia had made her stronger, smarter, had forced her to really take control of her life. To an outsider, it might appear that nothing had changed—after all, she was entering into another arranged marriage—but her eyes were wide open this time. She was nobody’s fool. This marriage would be all on her terms.

‘Yes,’ he agreed, taking another step towards her. Why wouldn’t Mia’s feet work to draw her backwards? ‘But that does not mean I haven’t thought about you.’

Her lips parted, the statement striking her in the chest like a bolt of lightning. It was a lie. It had to be a lie. She placed her champagne flute down on the nearby table with unnecessary force.

‘Oh? Thinking what a first-rate bastard you were?’

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. ‘Of opportunities wasted.’ He moved closer still, so close she could smell his aftershave and feel his warmth, and her insides jerked accordingly. ‘I have been thinking of that night.’

‘What night?’ she asked in a strangled voice, taking a step back until she connected with the stone wall behind her. She was grateful for the support at first, but then Luca moved forward and effectively trapped her, his frame so much larger than hers, so it was impossible to imagine how she could escape. Only—she could. If she told him to go away, firmly, she was pretty sure he would.

So why didn’t she?

Why didn’t she stamp on his foot, for good measure, then tell him to get lost?

Her mouth was dry. The simple act of swallowing seemed to require a monumental effort.

‘Do you need a reminder?’

His gaze dropped to her lips and Mia’s heart felt as though it might leap out of her chest, ribs be damned. ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘That’s fine.’

His smirk showed scepticism. ‘Are you sure?’

Her lips parted, forming a perfect ‘oh’, and she stared up at him, so close now, his body locking hers to the wall, so she couldn’t think straight, couldn’t do anything other than feel. The air between them reverberated with tension and need—she could taste adrenaline in her mouth.

‘Or would you like me to kiss you, Mia?’

Her blood screamed in her ears. What was happening? Was this a dream? Why on earth would he be here, offering this? And now? She tried to think straight, tried to put logical thought in front of logical thought, but her mind wouldn’t cooperate.

‘You can’t,’ she groaned. Something was pushing its way into the forefront of her brain. Something important she needed to grab hold of. She lifted a hand to his chest, to hold him right where he was, and then she saw it. Her engagement ring.

She was getting married.

Okay, it wasn’t a love match either. In fact, she barely knew her husband and had no expectation that he was honouring any kind of old-fashioned celibacy arrangement in the lead-up to their wedding. And she didn’t much care. This wasn’t to be a normal wedding, nor a normal marriage, and Mia found the idea of that quite thrilling. She was charting her own course, plotting a life for herself—finally—that would best suit her. Without her parents’ over-the-top meddling at every turn.

Nonetheless, here at this event, tucked away in a corner of the rooftop, the threat of discovery made her blood curdle.

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