Her smoky eyes went steely around the edges. “Fine.” And then, in classic Gianna fashion, she grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it off in one defiant swoop.

I gave my head a small shake, annoyance running through me.

Lorenzo rolled back so he could get a better look at her in only a black bra, thong, and heels. Ricardo whistled, and Jimmy chuckled before coughing on some smoke.

Gianna was hot, and she knew it. Even her tasteless style seemed to draw men in more than turn them away. But she’d been little more than a pain in my ass since my papà had died. And it looked like she was angry enough she was going to hurl her dress at my face.

“Try me,” I warned.

A frustrated noise escaped her. She chose the safest option and threw it on the floor, before turning on her heel and marching out of the room.

Lorenzo let out a low whistle at the sight as she left.

With regret, her bare ass was making me think of another bare ass, and a rush of heat ran to my groin.

“Fork it over, Ricky,” Jimmy said, puffing on his cigar.

Ricardo tossed some cash across the table, before giving me a nod and leaving the room.

“You too, huh?” I asked.

The moment with Elena on my kitchen counter was starting to replay on a loop in my mind. Her little sounds, her smell—fuck, I needed to get laid.

Jimmy collected his money. “Who do ya think made the bet? It’s been going since your engagement party.”

I wasn’t even surprised I’d been that transparent.

I was another man pining after her.

Fuck me.

But she was mine now, whether I liked it or not. And I didn’t. She was fucking distracting. She had a body I wanted to bury myself in and never leave, and it was why I was forcing myself not to go home tonight. I had to have some control where that woman was concerned. Had already told myself I wouldn’t touch her until the wedding, just to prove to myself I could. But then she was in my space . . . and fuck, I couldn’t do it.

She’d barely stepped in my door before I had her naked on the kitchen counter.

The funny part of it—though arguably not funny at all—was that she didn’t want anything to do with me. I was hung up on this girl, badly, and she was in love with some other man. Something green burned through my veins like a lit wick, and I ran my hand across my jaw.

They’d killed the man she was with when she ran away, but they weren’t found in a compromising position and neither did the apartment belong to him. It was possible they killed the wrong man and her lover was still alive. At least, that’s what I heard through the grapevine, and regardless of how much I ached to, I wasn’t digging further.

I’d always considered my morals to be slightly lower than mediocre, but it was at this moment I knew I was far, far below redemption.

Because innocent or not, if that man wasn’t dead and he crossed my path, his lifeless body would be unrecognizable.

“If I get married, I want to be very married.”

—Audrey Hepburn

THE TOUCH WAS INNOCENT. HIS hands were braced beside mine on the countertop, grazing my own, yet the warmth that flooded me felt like the letting of sunlight into a dusty, dark room.

“What’s this?” His drawl ran down my spine as he stood behind me, his body trapping mine against the island.

“It wouldn’t interest you.” I bit my lip.

This morning I’d awoken to the sound of rain on glass, the drip, drip, drip seeping into my subconscious. I’d lain in an unfamiliar bed, though slept better than I had in a while. It was eight a.m. when my fiancé decided to come home.

I didn’t know where he was last night, who he might have been with, but I decided it didn’t matter. This was the start of my new life with him, and I’d known it would be this way.

I’d spent yesterday going over the list Mamma had emailed me, while Luca watched TV and pretended I wasn’t here. I’d assumed he’d slept on the couch, because I hadn’t once heard the unmistakable creak of the old wooden stairs.

He was in Nico’s office now, watching sports news on the computer. I’d wondered why he couldn’t do that yesterday, but came to the assumption the couch was probably much more comfortable than the desk chair.

“I’ll let you know what interests me.”

“Wedding stuff,” I said. “You know, the details that will tie us together for the rest of our lives?”

“Sounds like you’re trying to scare me off.”

“Is it working?”

“Nah, I’ll take my chances.” The amusement in his voice did strange things to my nervous system. How could he be so nonchalant and insistent about marrying me, and why did that hold a certain charm to it?

His fingers brushed mine as he pulled the printout of my mamma’s email closer. He had nice hands, I noticed. Big, masculine, with clean, blunt nails. I wished I could find something I didn’t like about this man, but it seemed it would have to be with his personality and not with his appearance.

His body grew closer to pressing against my back with each second as he read my mamma’s list like I wasn’t trapped in front of him.

“How do you feel about pink?” I breathed.

One of his hands slid to my waist, searing my skin through the pink scalloped dress I wore. “Never thought about it before,” he drawled, “but I think I like it.”

Warmth ran to my cheeks. “Good,” I supplied. “Because you’ll be wearing a pink tie.”

He let out a breath of amusement. “I don’t mind, but it will probably annoy Luca. Did he bother you yesterday?”

“No, he was a perfect gentleman. Didn’t push me into a pool or anything.”

“He stayed in my office?”

I hesitated, because I was a terrible liar. “Of course.”

“Hmm.” His hand slid from my waist to my hip, his fingers gripping my flesh with a firmness that set my pulse aflutter. Pressing his lips to my ear, he whispered, “I don’t believe you.”

I inhaled. “You expected him to stay in your office all day and night?”

“Yes,” he said, like he wasn’t asking for much. “Tell me what you did.”

“We played monopoly and shared an ice cream cone.”

I could feel his smile on the back of my neck. “Little liar,” he drawled.

“You don’t have a coffeemaker,” was all I could think to say.

“I don’t drink coffee.”

“You’re not human,” I breathed.

His palm ran from my hip to my lower stomach. Heat curled inside me with the smallest amount of pressure from his hand. Each finger burned through the fabric while his lips brushed the nape of my neck. My insides were melting, dissolving into nothing but memory as he softly bit down and then licked the skin. I gripped the edge of the countertop, a moan crawling up my throat.

“Why are you dressed to go out?”

I sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m going to the dress shop with Mamma at ten.”

“Are you now?” He ran his face across my bare shoulder, his scruff teasing my skin. “Who’s taking you?”

“Benito’s picking me up.”

It went silent for a moment, and I suddenly wondered if he would tell me no. Would he be strict? Irrational? All the horrid possibilities came to mind as I finally realized I was putting my future in this man’s hands. I hardly even knew him. I wanted to know him, just so I could understand how he would react. At least, that’s what I told myself. I wanted to know what he did last night. What his middle name was. Who he had loved or who he did. I wanted to know everything, and that made my chest ache with the inevitable break.