I honestly didn’t care what shoes or dress I wore to my wedding, so I took them from her hand and stepped into them. She appraised me for a few seconds before we left the room. When we entered the sitting room, the men were busy talking, drinking glasses of amber liquid. A plume of cigar smoke wafted through the air, and the overwhelming stench made my stomach churn.
Domenica cleared her throat. “Gentleman, if I can have your attention.”
Their heads snapped in our direction. Five pairs of eyes raked over my body, making my skin feel as if it were on fire.
Luca stood from the couch, drink in one hand and a cigar in the other. “Next dress. I don’t want everyone staring at her tits.”
The top was low cut, my big boobs spilling out from it.
“Something more traditional,” Arlo added. “Less revealing.”
Domenica lowered her head. “Of course, Mr. Salvatore.”
Once inside the dressing room, Domenica worked without speaking to me, moving the revealing dresses to one rack so we could focus on the other. A few gowns had long lacy sleeves, some with long trains. One, in particular, caught my attention. The dress had cap sleeves, a modest train, and a lace bodice that would cover my breasts. It was traditional, though it still had enough modern flare I could see myself wearing this one.
I lifted the last dress from the rack and smiled. “This one,” I told Domenica.
She beamed with delight. “I think Mr. Salvatore will be happy with this gown.”
After I changed, I gained a much different reaction from Luca. He rolled the pad of his thumb along his bottom lip, studying me with genuine curiosity. Like he couldn’t wait to find out what was beneath the layers.
Marcello sat in a comfy chair in the corner. He took a sip from his glass and set it on the table, leaning forward with his eyes fixed on me. Every man burned a hole through me with their eyes.
Unsure of how to handle their silence, Domenica shifted her nervously from one foot to the other. “What do you think of this dress? It’s more traditional, not as form-fitting as the last one.”
Arlo finished his drink, then rested the snifter on his thigh, scanning my body as if he had X-ray vision. The Basile men appraised my body as if they were considering adding me to one of their auctions.
“Bellissima,” Antonio said after a long pause.
His sons echoed his sentiment.
Luca stared at me with pure lust. “Perfect.”
“We’re done here,” Arlo told Domenica.
Resting his arm on the couch, Luca gave me one final look and then nodded in agreement.
As I turned to leave, Arlo said, “Alexandria, you will join us for dinner.”
Frozen in place, I opened my mouth, and nothing came out. With the Basile men watching me, a shiver rolled down my arms when their dark, cold eyes met mine. The dinner was not a request.
“Sure,” I said with a forced smile. “I’d love to join you.”
Arlo nodded. “That’s all.”
Alex
Luca was an animal last night. Seeing me in the wedding gown must have provoked something inside him. After he finished his meeting with the Basiles, he visited me in his mother’s studio. He excused Marcello for the night, then fucked me on the floor on top of a drop cloth. The Devil claimed me for several hours before I passed out from pleasure.
The next morning, I awoke in my bed beside Marcello. He told me we were having breakfast downstairs for once. My handsome protector usually insisted he wait for me in the hallway, but I assured him I wouldn’t take long.
As I walked down the main corridor, loud voices traveled, forcing me to stop dead in my tracks. I pressed my back against the wall outside of the formal dining room and listened to Luca speaking Italian.
“You’re an idiot,” Luca boomed.
He fired back a few more insults in Italian before Marcello’s voice projected loud enough for me to hear him.
“She’s part of the deal,” Marcello said in Italian. “They will sell her.”
Was he talking about me?
Adrenaline shot through my body, forcing my heart to pump harder, my head spinning from the blood that rushed through my veins. My heel slipped on the tiled floor, and I pushed my palm to the wall for support. All life inside the dining room ceased.
Shit. They heard me.
I stepped into the dining room, forcing down the bile, choking me. Luca sat at the head of the table with Bastian and Damian at his sides. Bastian’s face was paler than Damian’s, though both of their lips looked blood-red. They were so beautiful you wanted to touch them. Marcello sat at the other end of the table. He stared down at the newspaper on the table in front of him with a coffee in hand.
“Look who’s joining us,” Luca taunted. “Did I wear you out, baby girl?”