Chapter 10

VALERIO

W hen Chiara dropped her freakin’ bomb, I almost choked on my coffee.

I brought my hand to my bottom lip and squeezed, brow arched, thoughts racing.

I’d dealt with many strange requests in my time, but this—was a whole new level.

‘The fuck?’

In a rumble through gritted teeth, I growled, rejecting her proposal’s ridiculousness.

Her eyes were steady, unwavering. ‘I need you to be my fiancé. It’s the only way my brothers won’t suspect a thing. You’ll also need to move in.’

I sat back, staring at her, mind still circling on her first dropped bomb. ‘A fiancé? Fotto !’

My mind was spinning. I’d been prepared for virtually any negotiation or challenge, but this?

No. Marriage was sacred, an institution I placed on a pedestal, thanks to my parents.

As I remembered, their love was rare—deep, unshakable, incandescent, and lasting a lifetime.

They’d also lost it in a senseless tragedy.

If I ever got married, it would be for the most sacrosanct of devotions, an eternal joining of souls, and nothing less.

I bristled at Chiara’s suggestion, which was stated with the same casualness as ordering a takeaway.

‘Matrimony isn’t a game to me,’ I rasped, my utterance tight. ‘I don’t just play fiancé for anyone.’

Chiara sighed, sensing my reticence.

She shook her mane back, its sublime waves cascading down her back.

Exhaling again, she leaned forward, elbows on the table, her expression softening even though there was still a trace of steel in her voice. ‘Rio, I’m not asking for the real deal. It’s a cover. My brothers—they’d never let me hire a bodyguard. They’re too paranoid, too controlling. If you come in as security, they’ll see right through it. They’ll also question why, and given their threats, they’ll think I’m plotting against them with protection by my side. But if you’re my fiancé, it gives you an excuse to be near.’

I folded my arms over my chest, trying to get a grip on the situation.

She wasn’t wrong, and that was the worst part.

The woman was sharp— enough to know how to push me into a corner.

A fake relationship was the perfect cover, the only way to get close to her family.

And the closer I got to them, the easier it would be to take them down. That had been the plan all along.

But still, this was a pre-marriage arrangement we were contemplating—even if it was simulated. Regardless, I found it uncomfortable to consider.

‘You’re OK with this? Pretending to be engaged?’ I raised an eyebrow, testing her resolve.

She gave me a small, humorless smile. ‘It’s not like I’m asking you to move in and pick out curtains. It’s a temporary deal—nothing more. Besides,’ she added, her eyes flickering with emotion indecipherable, ‘I doubt you’re the type to fall in love and ride off into the sunset, anyway.’

That stung more than I cared to admit.

Maybe she was right. My life didn’t leave room for things like romance or sunsets.

Of late, I’d been consumed with cleaning up all our Calibrese shit. Dealing with our enemies in the shadows, and wrapping up our affairs in Italy that I’d not dated in months, let alone fallen in like with any woman.

The thought of playing pretend in such a sacred role felt off.

However, I’d be a fool to deny the opportunity.

I needed to get that close to her brothers—her father.

This fake engagement would give me a seat at their table, a chance to learn their moves, their secrets. And Chiara? She was my way in.

‘ Va bene ,’ I rasped after a long pause. ‘I’ll do it. But remember, this is business. Nothing else.’

She nodded, her relief almost imperceptible. ‘Of course. Strictly professional.’

Yeah right. I’d be a dupe to believe it would stay that way.

Things like this had a habit of getting messy, but I’d play along for now.

‘So, how will this arrangement work? They’ll dig, you know.’

‘We’ll have to fabricate a history—photos of our love story and engagement. We’ll require them all updated and backdated on my private Instagram. You might also need to move into my visitor’s apartment or here with me.’

I raised a brow. ‘You came up with that, now?’

She nodded. ‘I’ve learned to think fast in my world.’

‘How do you propose gathering said evidence?’ I smirked.

‘We can make our shit up right now, in my backyard,’ she said, tapping her phone.

I sucked my teeth. ‘Color me skeptical.’

‘It’s the only way my shallow, vapid brothers will believe me if I make it appear similar to what their empty-headed and botoxed girlfriends do for their socials. Only a few images. It’s all it’ll take. I’ll even upload them with software that can backdate them online.’

‘You’re a trip,’ I mused at her, scoffing in disbelief.

She puckered her mouth and gave me a self-satisfied look.

Which also happened to be sexy as all hell.

She had me.

‘Make it happen,’ I growled.

She reached a hand out to me.

I slid mine into it, and we shook it to firm up our deal.

My eyes locking with hers, I pushed a tongue in my cheek, still unsure.

Her pursing lips curled in a pout that sent a jolt straight to my cock.

Fuck me.

‘Ready.’

I turned to see Chiara stepping through her sliding doors.

Her lithe legs were encased in white linen pants, a sleeveless white top, makeup, and hair done.

Ravishing.

From the tips of her leonine tresses to her wild eyes that flashed, sometimes with joy, other times with flames of irritation or annoyance.

My gaze slipped further to her curved waist and cute belly button, which showed just above her slacks, pretty feet, and nails tipped in dark mauve polish.

Cazzo! This woman was a beauty.

I sucked my teeth and closed my eyes from her, jaw set, riled by the fact she was getting under my skin.

‘Ready for the show?’ I said.

My growl came at her hard.

‘I don’t see why you’re complaining. You’re the one who broke into my office and house and chased me down for this gig. You agreed to all of this.’

‘ Si , and now I’m wondering why,’ I barked, following her as she sashayed to the garden.

Her hips swaying before me sent a jolt to my hardening cock, and I cursed below my breath once more, tamping down the lust.

Still, my traitorous mind wandered, and all I thought of was tearing those pants down, yanking her hard to me, and sliding deep in her.

I hissed and sucked my teeth, bracing for the inevitable tempest that was Chiara.

It took a gust of wind to blow me back to the present.

It was a stunning day, a flawless Neapolitan summer morning—blue skies, some cloud cover, crisp, clean air, and an extraordinary view of the Faraglioni rocks and the ocean beyond.

Her home reflected her artistic spirit and blended into the Mediterranean landscape. A lush garden and a marvelous swimming pool surrounded it.

The perfect backdrop for our lies.

I raised my chin at her. ‘Let’s get to work.’

We proceeded to ham it up for the cameras.

We took a few ‘happy couple’ photos before she pulled me to the garden’s side gate.

‘We need more authenticity. We must have shots on the beach. It’s only five minutes away.’

I growled in annoyance. ‘Why?’

‘Because my brothers know I love my sea and sand, and if we just have formal-looking images in my back garden, it won’t wash with them.’

‘Don’t I need to change?’ I groused.

She raked her eyes over me. ‘You don’t have clothes or time, so we’ll have to make do. You can remove your shoes and shirt when we get to the shore.’

I sucked my teeth, affronted.

This woman was undoing my sigma vibe, pushing me around.

With a scowl, I lifted my hand to let her pass. ‘Lead the way.’

She grinned in triumph, sliding on a pair of sandals before dragging me to the street outside.

I slapped on sunglasses as we took off to the beach.

‘What a stunning day,’ she declared beside me, the sunshine to my exasperated grumpiness.

I refused to get caught up in the beauty of the landscape, annoyed at what I considered a monumental waste of my fuckin’ time.

‘You keep glancing at your watch like you’re counting down the minutes leading up to an execution,’ she murmured, slicing her eyes at me as her hips swung beside me.

‘You should relax,’ she added as we arrived at the park that stretched in front of the seashore.

With a coquettish smile, she threw off her shoes to walk barefoot in the grass, sinking her feet into nature’s cushioned surface. ‘Now, your turn.’

I growled in irritation as I slipped my loafers and socks off. ‘What now?’

‘Are you always this wound up?’ she asked.

I grunted, resisting to gaze at her, eyes alert and parsing over the view and people in the distance. ‘I like to know what’s coming next.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘ Fotto , you’re as rigid as they come, Rio. You like to act like you’re laid-back, but I see through it. Everything about you is calculated. You’re the kind of man who doesn’t just walk into a room; you assess every exit and note each face.’

‘It’s my job,’ I grumbled.

‘So you never let your guard down? Even here, on this beautiful day like this? You can’t plan every second of your life, Rio.’

‘I’ve done fine so far,’ I muttered, voice deep and brooding, unimpressed by her spontaneous detours, which were getting more elaborate by the minute.

My angst was rising with each moment, pissed off at being dragged into her charade while also fighting my fuckin’ desire for her.

She pulled something out of her pocket.

A jewelry box.

My eyes narrowed on her as she slipped out the exquisite diamond sparkler from within.

‘What’s that?’

‘My mother’s ring. We’ll use it to pretend we’ve gotten engaged. Will you marry me, amore ?’

I glared at her for a beat. ‘The man always does the asking. Si ?’

She reared her back in surprise. ‘What in the handmaids-tale-trad-wife nonsense is that? I can propose to you in this day and age, can’t I?’

I widened my eyes at her, surprised.

‘You can try,’ I drawled, loathing the idea with every fiber of my being, a traditional man to the core.

Damn, she was pushing my boundaries.

‘Fine, you do it,’ she conceded.

I pursed my lips and reached for the velvet box.

With a suck of my teeth, I sank to the ground beside her on one knee.

She loomed above me, lips quirking.

‘Take the video, woman,’ I rasped, hating the ludicrousness of our charade.

Flaring her eyes at me, she angled her phone camera towards us and tapped the record button.

I turned on the charm.

‘ Mi vuoi sposare , Chiara, mi amore ?’ I drawled.

She fake gasped and added a breathy ‘ Si ’ and a coquettish smile to the lens.

I surged to my feet and, on a whim, pulled her to me, whispering sweet nothings as if I were her lover.

She trembled and shivered, struggling to keep her hand steady while the camera trained on us.

The viewscreen showed a couple, tanned, happy, gloriously in love.

Fuck, we looked good together.

However, we needed more to make it convincing, so I whispered in her ear. ‘Trust me.’

Turning my head, I planted my lips on her.

‘Rio-,’ she moaned, but it was too late.

My mouth fell on hers with a guttural growl as I nibbled, explored, and glided them over her sensual lips.

Our noses bumped, and I leaned into it, breathing her in as my mouth suckled hard on her lower lip.

At the same time, my hands slid up her thighs, waist, and torso, stroking her.

A series of loud wolf whistles sounded from the beach, and I winced and pulled back.

Still in character, she waggled her ringed finger for the camera before turning the feed off.

‘Got it?’ I growled.

She nodded.

Tits heaving, eyes scorching at me as she battled with her emotions.

I arched a brow. ‘You wanted a fiancé, you got one.’

More accolades and applause came as we posed like a happy couple

If there was one thing we Italians venerated, which was cliche but still true to our core, it was romance.

‘ Ha detto di sì! ’ I called out to our growing cheer squad.

‘Good luck,’ a man responded.

‘ Grazie , I’ll need it,’ I shot back, even as Chiara gave me a narrowed glance in a warning.

She arranged a few shots of us strolling by the water, insisting I get my shirt off.

I did, with great reluctance, as I caught the gleam when she set eyes on my chest.

With each photo, I became more belligerent, wanting out.

Her smile was as forced as mine, and though we appeared to be a couple in love on camera, the tension between us was palpable.

‘Try not to look like you’re attending a funeral,’ she whispered.

The view was stunning—Vesuvius in the distance, and the sky above a gorgeous blue, a handful of clouds crossing the expanse.

I crossed my hands over my torso. ‘I don’t do fake very well.’

‘You think this is easy for me?’ I snapped. ‘You’re making it harder than it needs to be.’

I didn’t respond, slipping into a brooding silence.

This was not how I’d envisioned getting close to Chiara.

An entanglement perhaps, but an engagement, no.

We were meant to be this madly in love couple, but all I could feel was the tension growing between us, thick and suffocating.

I was being boorish.

The more time we spent together, the more I withdrew into my shell, fighting hard not to get swamped by my churning emotions, my conflicted feelings for her coming at me.

When we returned to her home, she yawned and pushed a hand through her wild hair. Her face was lined, and she showed signs of exhaustion. Probably weary of my dark mood.

Inside her door, she kicked her shoes off, scattering them.

‘Can’t you keep your shit tidy?’ I grumbled, more resigned than angry.

She shrugged. ‘This is me.’

I shot her a look of pure frustration. ‘Are we done now?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘We need a few more photos. Of us lying in bed.’

‘What the fuck, Chiara?’ I growled.

‘We have to be realistic,’ she insisted.

I bristled, then gave in with a heavy exhale as we took the stairs into her beautifully appointed white, cream, and black bedroom, which was neat, with signs of messy, real living.

Soon, she had me strip to my vest while she shrugged on a robe, revealing her honey-toned shoulders and the swell of her tits.

Which only served to give me an annoying erection as my mind went wild with the scenes of unfettered sex with her .

She made me lean against the headboard with my arm draped across her waist.

The camera angled to catch only our faces, smiles that masked the growing discomfort.

‘At least try to appear like you’re enjoying this,’ she muttered under my breath as she snapped another shot.

‘I’d enjoy it more if it were real,’ I retorted.

She flinched and canted her face from me.

A wave of instant guilt hit me. The comment had landed harder than I expected or wanted it to.

I was done here.

I said as much as I swiveled on my heel and tracked away.

‘When can I expect you?’ she called after me.

Powering on without a glance at her, I rasped. ‘Like Arni famously said, ‘I’ll be back.’

He’d also said, ‘what a pain in the neck,’ after strangling Sub-Zero with barbed wire in The Running Man.

Which captured my sentiment in this freakin’ moment.