Chapter 16

16

Jeanne

What the—? Did he just say that? And just when I thought we were actually beginning to get along. There in that bar, when he pushed me over the counter and proceeded to make me orgasm, I wasn't even resentful that I told him my name. The way he played my body, like Elle Woods had played with Emmett Richmond's emotions. And I do need to stop with the Elle Woods jokes in my head. That's what happens when you grow up with a steady diet of Elle Woods trivia as told to you by your mom, not to mention, having to watch Legally Blonde every Christmas. While I may have absorbed a lot of it subconsciously, it begins to wear you down after a while, know what I mean?

Also, he carried me up to the room after that orgasmfest and put me to bed. I'd been half asleep, drunk on the Os, but not so far gone that I didn't notice he tucked me in, pulled the covers over me, and kissed me on my lips, by which time I'd fallen asleep. And I agreed to marry him, so why has he gone all grouchy on me now?

"What's your problem?" I shoot him a sideways glance.

"I have no idea what you mean," he replies without opening his eyes.

"Something is the matter, else, why are you acting like a bear with a sore head?"

"Your imagination must be working overtime, Jeanne," he drawls.

"You're giving me whiplash with this on-again, off-again attitude of yours."

"No idea what you're talking about."

"You were all chummy and ready to engage in conversation in the pub, but now that we are on our way home, you seem to be pissed off with me."

He doesn't reply.

"If this is how married life with you is going to be, I'm not sure I want to go ahead with the ceremony."

"You have no choice in the matter. I came through on my promise of getting you back in time for your premiere?—"

"We aren't yet back at the premiere," I remind him.

"We're almost there. Now, you need to deliver on your side of the promise."

"If I'd known you have friends who could loan us their private jet, I may not have made the deal," I confess.

His lips kick up. "Too late, baby. You're bound to me now."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm going to regret having agreed to this scheme?''

Two hours later, the plane taxis down the runway in Italy. I rise to my feet and follow him to the open door, where the stewardess and the pilot who has come over to join us, bid us goodbye. Luca ducks under the open doorway. He steps onto the small platform at the top of the short flight of steps leading to the runway and stops so suddenly that I bump into him. I grip his shirt to steady myself. "What's wrong?"

I pop my head around him and freeze.

There, at the bottom of the steps, is an entire reception committee. I count six men. Four of them have their arms around women. The other two flank the happy couples, all of whom are in various stages of PDAs. One of the couples is kissing, the other has his woman tucked into his side, the third has her in front with his arms wrapped about her shoulder and waist. The fourth hold hands. All of the couples are beaming at us. One of the single guys, the tallest and the broadest in the group, comes forward. He pauses at the bottom of the stairs and beckons.

Luca turns to face the plane.

"Hey, what's wrong?" I tip my chin up and take in his pale features.

"I think I might get on that flight and return to London."

"Go right ahead. I, on the other hand, am going to try to make today's rehearsal." I brush past him, and he thrusts out his arm so I don't have a choice but to stop. "Now what?"

"You're not going anywhere without me," he grumbles.

"Like I said, your on-off emotions are giving me a headache."

"What's going to give you more of a headache is if I tell you who's waiting at the bottom of the stairs."

"That's your family, I'm guessing?"

He nods. "Which means, we already have to act like we're in love, and I need to break the news to them about our marriage."

I pale. "Oh, crap."

"Exactly."

He places his hand on my shoulder. "You ready for this?"

I swallow. "I think I'm going to join you on that flight back to London."

"I suppose it was inevitable we'd have to face them." He draws in a deep breath, as if trying to gather his courage. "Might as well get it over with. Rip the bandage off and all that."

"Can't this wait until after the rehearsal?" I hunch my shoulders. "You know, let me just get on that stage first..."

"So you can abandon me and run away after that? Not likely."

"I have to appear in the musical every night for the next two weeks, dummy. I'm not going anywhere."

"Damn right, you're not. It's time for you to deliver on your side of the bargain."

"Fine, fine, no need to get all antsy about it." I pat his chest. His rock-hard bruiser of a chest, on which I can feel the shape of his abs through the shirt he's wearing. I press my palm against the sculpted planes, and the heat of his skin sinks into my blood. A spiral of heat swirls in my belly. My heartbeat increases in intensity.

"You ready?" he murmurs.

"For what?" I frown. I look into his eyes and spot the resolve. "What are you?—"

He sweeps me up bride-style in his arms; I yelp.

"What are you up to?" I whisper-scream.

He bares his lips in the resemblance of a smile. Then tips his chin down at me. "Better get your game face on, Angel."

He swivels around, then begins to walk down the steps.