8. Ginevra

CHAPTER 8

Ginevra

O nce upon a time I thought it would be romantic to be kidnapped and fall in love— nope . I was wrong. Not that I’m being kidnapped exactly, and I’m certainly not falling in love with Mr. Baron. How could I? The guy’s not only blackmailing me, but he sits across the table and literally scowls at everyone in the restaurant. He might look pretty on the outside, aside from the deep crease between his eyebrows, but his insides are rancid. He’s murdered women and children.

I was fourteen when he took away my best friend and her entire family. Viviana had two older sisters, the same ages as mine, and the six of us were close. Our world was turned upside down when the Marino family disappeared one night, never to be heard from again. The fifth pillar of the mafia families just… gone.

Now I’m sitting at dinner with the man responsible.

I smile at our server, letting her know that she’s done nothing wrong despite Blake’s expression. “I’ll have the chicken, please. Thank you.”

She offers me a quick grin and a nod before taking our order to the kitchen.

I turn my full attention on Blake, who continues to glower at the dining room. Reaching out, I touch his fingers and he twitches, his bright, steely gaze locking on mine.

“What are you doing?” he demands.

“Acting.” I take his hand in mine. “That’s why you brought me here, right? So we can look like a couple in public?” My casual tone belies the twisting of my stomach. I can’t help that he makes me nervous. I mean, I should be nervous, right?

Besides becoming his fake wife, I don’t know what he has in store for me.

He sits back in his chair, but doesn’t remove his hand from mine. “Actually, I brought you here to discuss terms, specifics of our agreement. I figure we should date for one month before announcing our engagement, then we can have a quick late summer wedding. It’ll be a whirlwind romantic affair. Do you think you can handle that?”

I lift a haughty brow. “Can you ?”

He interlaces his fingers with mine and gives them a squeeze. Our body language is in complete contrast to the topic we’re discussing—business, strategy, how to fool everyone in our lives into thinking this relationship is real. While on the outside we look like every other couple enjoying dinner at Spades this evening.

I’m pretty sure this is the same restaurant where Roman proposed to my sister Sophia after they talked terms. What is it about this place?

“I can handle anything thrown at me,” Blake says. The arrogance in his tone has me rolling my eyes. “Let’s talk rules.”

Before I can respond, he’s listing off the rules we’re playing by—or at least the ones he’s playing by.

“One, no falling in love or catching feelings for one another.” His gaze roams my face.

“No worries there.” I flash him a dazzling smile, but the bite of my words still hit their mark.

He gives me a slight glare, but continues. “When the time is appropriate, you will move in with me. My step-mother has a sharp eye and in order to pull this off we must live together. She’ll?—”

“As roommates, right? You don’t expect… anything more. Do you?” I really should have asked about this before agreeing to fake marry him, especially with the way his hands roamed my body at his house last night. We both know he didn’t need to do that to find his figurine.

Unexpectedly, a flush warms my body. The slow, sensual way he searched my body still makes my skin tingle. No man has ever touched me like that before. It was so sensuous.

Blake lifts my hand to his lips. His warm breath caresses my fingers. “I expect fidelity. You won’t be sleeping around on me.”

“And how about you? Are you going to be faithful to me as well?”

“Absolutely. I can’t risk getting caught with another woman by my step-mother, and she will be the most difficult to convince. I won’t do anything to put my goal in jeopardy. However… I don’t expect someone with your reputation to be celibate for an entire year. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement that fits both of our needs.” Blake’s heated gaze never leaves my eyes.

My reputation ?

I shouldn’t be angry considering that I purposely crafted and fed this reputation he’s talking about. But I’m fucking livid that he sees me as an easy lay. A slut. Does he think I’m going to be his own personal whore? Heat creeps from my chest up to my ears. With my free hand, I toss my hair over my shoulder.

Blake leans in and lowers his voice, so only I can hear him say, “I want you to be my good little slut.”

I flinch at that last word, then quickly cover it up with a smile that makes my cheeks ache. My heart gallops across my ribcage as I grit my teeth.

Sucking in a steadying breath, I will myself to calm the fuck down. “I’m all yours.”

A devilish grin touches his lips. “You’ll be well rewarded.”

Is he talking about money? Compensation? Or something else?

My gut wrenches with disgust, and my racing heart won’t slow down. Slipping my hand from his, I excuse myself and manage to make my way to the restroom on shaky legs, without faltering. Once safely inside a stall, I inhale a long, shuddering breath and blink away the moisture that threatens to fall. I’m not usually this emotional. Normally I can just roll with whatever people toss at me and laugh it off.

Why do I loathe that Blake sees me as a toy? Did I really expect him to be different from other men? He’s not, and I’ll deal with him the same way I’ve dealt with all the others. Preferably intoxicated enough to not care.

Angrily, I swipe at my wet cheeks. Life’s too short to cry about every little thing. Plus I hate wallowing in the darkness, when I prefer the light.

Everything will be fine. I’m fine.

What I need is more fun in my life. Blake’s party last night was okay, but not the escape I desperately desired. Both of my sisters were there and, as much as I know they love me, I can’t let loose under their watchful gazes. Arianna’s always telling me not to slouch, to drink less, to behave.

I’m so tired of being told what to do. When will they get it, I don’t want to behave, I’ll never follow their rules or anybody else's.

Now Blake wants to tell me what to do? He wants me to be his good little slut ? I shiver. I don’t belong to any man. Except… now I do, and it’s all my fault. For the next fourteen months, Blake Baron all but owns me.

My pulse spikes. My hands shake.

To take off the edge, I pull the small flask from my clutch and gulp down its entire contents. The vanilla flavored vodka burns my throat on its way to warming my stomach. My head spins a little since I haven’t eaten much today—not with having to answer a million and one questions that my father bombarded me with after Blake left this morning. Blake never should have made my father apologize to me. After the inquisition that followed, I fell back to sleep until the late afternoon, then spent some time getting ready for this dinner.

The alcohol settles in my belly and I immediately feel stronger, floaty, and ready to face the world—and Mr. Baron.

I exit the stall, only to come face-to-face with the devil himself. He pushes off from the wall and strolls toward me, his gaze evaluating, running along every inch of my body.

“I upset you,” he states, but there’s no remorse in his tone.

Stepping around him to wash my hands, I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Just then, a woman comes into the restroom and gives us a disapproving glance before shutting herself into one of the private stalls. Blake doesn’t seem to notice her. Does he even realize he’s in the women’s bathroom? He probably does, and he obviously doesn’t care. He’s the kind of man who thinks the rules don’t apply to him—and for the most part, he’s right, they don’t.

He folds his arms and leans against the wall closest to me. “I didn’t mean to offend you. One of the reasons I think this can work between us is that you’re no blushing virgin. We’re both experienced adults who know how to give and receive physical pleasure without catching feelings. That’s all I meant.”

“I said don’t worry about it. It’s fine.” I dry my hands, avoiding his stare. “I know my reputation. I’m the one who built it, after all.”

It’s my shield against the truth. I never want anyone to see the darkness that lurks beneath what I choose to show them of myself.

He’s quiet for a moment while he scrutinizes me, seemingly unable to believe that I’m fine. I am fine—thanks to the triple shot of booze flowing through my veins.

Blake nods once, as if he’s made an important decision about something. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Ignoring him, I leave the restroom, returning to our table, and Blake follows me.

“No sex until our wedding night,” he states, sitting down. “We’ll both be celibate for the duration of our engagement. However, we must keep up appearances, so we should kiss and touch in public, the same as any happy couple.”

Finally, I give him my attention. No sex until marriage gives me the time I need to process all of this. It’s generous of him.

The thought of kissing him makes my stomach flip-flop. I can still feel his touch from last night, the sensation of his hands all over my body lingers like a phantom. My lips part and his gaze drops to my mouth.

“Are we in agreement so far?” he asks, his eyes lingering.

My gaze slides over the man seated in front of me. His broad shoulders fill out his suit perfectly. Wavy blond hair, that looks like it’d be soft to touch, falls loosely over his brilliant blue eyes, a square jaw, and full lips. He’s incredibly handsome. A gorgeous devil.

I nod, and sip my wine, wishing it was something stronger.

“Good. No catching feelings, no sex before we’re married, and last, but not least, no more stealing.”

I huff out an objection. “You’re not the boss of me.”

“Until we sign divorce papers, I am your boss and more. This is a business arrangement and you are working for me—therefore you’ll do as you’re told. No more stealing. I mean it.”

I groan. “This is hell. You’re just trying to punish me on top of blackmailing me into this, aren’t you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I killed two birds with one stone.” He leans forward and lowers his voice. “Believe me when I tell you this could be a lot worse for you, Ginevra. How the next year goes is up to you. Behave, be a good girl, and you’ll get rewarded. Misbehave and I’ll have no choice but to punish you.”

I swear my brain momentarily glitches. A very vivid picture of Blake punishing me as I writhe beneath him pops to mind. Liquid heat sears my core—so unexpectedly, like what the actual fuck ? My upper body sways towards his and I catch myself, for once sitting up straight with my shoulders back like Arianna nags me about.

What is wrong with me tonight? Have I really had enough booze that my body wants whatever this man has to offer? If that’s true, then I’ve become a real cheap date. Normally, I need a lot more to drink before I’m ready to jump into bed with someone.

“What will it be, Gin?” There’s a warning edge to his voice. “Good girl or naughty girl?”

Our dinner arrives, and I immediately dive in, effectively avoiding answering him. Throughout the meal, we shoot glances at each other. From the outside it probably looks like we’re nervously flirting, but in reality it’s a test of wills. His gaze demands an answer, while I refuse to give him what he wants. His stare hardens, but I refuse to crack.

I’m not sure if I could resist the urge to steal even if I wanted. It’s an impulse, maybe an addiction, and the high I get from it is worth the risk. What is Blake going to do, kill me?

We both know he needs me alive for his little ruse. So it’s not like he can off me and bury my body in a shallow grave—or wherever he normally puts people that he’s done with.

He needs me, and that gives me some leverage.

As we’re finishing up our entrees, our server returns. “Would you like dessert?—”

“No,” Blake barks at her.

“Actually, yes.” I take my time perusing the dessert menu, hemming and hawing over which one to get, just to annoy Blake. I can tell my behavior is irritating him from the deepening of his scowl, and that slight glare aimed in my direction. I inwardly chuckle at his growing annoyance, I’m not sure why I find it so amusing, but I do.

“Okay, I’ll have?—”

He cuts me off. “We’ll take one of everything.”

“Very good, sir.” The server darts off to do his bidding.

“I was going to make a decision,” I tell him. Eventually.

“Not any time soon, so I made it for you. There. Done.”

“Do you always have to be in control?”

He takes a swallow of wine. “Yes.”

“Tyrant.” My tone’s light, almost giddy as I tease him.

“Brat.”

“What, are you name calling now?” I narrow my eyes at him. A playful Mr. Baron is totally unexpected.

He shrugs. “You started it. Besides, I’m only stating a fact.”

A dozen desserts arrive at our table and I don’t bother to suppress the grin that curves my lips. Each little dessert is a work of culinary art, a slice of the divine. I can’t wait to taste them. My spoon hovers in the air as I debate about which to sample first.

“Start with the one in front of you,” Blake impatiently suggests, so I grab the plate that’s in front of him and place it before me, scooping up a bite of exquisite chocolate mousse. “Brat,” he murmurs, but there’s a tiny spark in his eyes as he watches me eat.

“Oh my god .” I moan around a lemon tart. “The zest in this is perfection.”

Happily, humming low to myself, I make my way from one dessert to the next, getting a taste of them all. I’ll never tell Blake this, but I’m glad he ordered one of everything—having to decide on only one would have been a travesty and broken my heart.

He intently watches me, but doesn’t comment. One corner of his mouth twitches, and I can only figure that he finds my moans and gasps amusing. He really doesn’t know what he’s missing by not having dessert.

Once I’ve sampled each one, I set my spoon down and sigh. “That was delicious.”

“Aren’t you going to finish them?” He surveys the dozen desserts with a single bite missing from each.

“Are you joking? Do you have any idea how many calories that would be in one sitting?” I shake my head in disbelief.

“Very well.” He snaps his fingers and our server appears. “We’ll take these to go.”

“You could have some,” I urge him.

“I don’t do sweets.”

“Why? Would they ruin your bitter disposition?”

His lips twitch again. “Probably.”

My dessert’s packaged up and Blake pays the bill, then we’re on our way out of the restaurant. As we weave our way through the occupied tables, my fingers tingle with the need to defy his orders. I mean, seriously, what’s he going to do about it? Without overthinking it, I swipe a silk Hermes scarf from a woman’s handbag and tie it around my wrist.

We wait at the cloakroom to get our coats, and Blake turns to me. His gaze immediately latches onto the scarf. How is that even possible? Is he really that observant?

Under his scrutiny, a shiver runs down my spine.

“Where did you get that, magpie?” His tone’s low and dangerous. It sends a slight thrill through me and I lift my chin.

“None of your business.” My voice comes out breathy.

His fingers curl around my upper arm and he pulls me close. “I said no more stealing. I meant it.”

He removes the scarf and gives it to the attendant. “Put that in Lost and Found.” Then he hauls me out of the restaurant like I’m some disobedient child. He shoves me, and the leftovers, into the waiting car the valet brought around, then settles into the driver’s seat. “You like to test people, don’t you?”

I eye him from the passenger seat, but don’t answer.

“Test me all you want, my little magpie, but I promise that every action you take will have a consequence. So be prepared.”

With those ominous words, he drives me home to my parents’ house.