Page 69 of Marry Me Not
Cosimo planted a palm against the door beside my head. “They’ll think we’re having a fight if they see us coming out looking like this.” His voice lowered. “We can make them think otherwise.”
“What do you suggest?” I whispered, though I already knew what he meant.
He shifted closer, crowded me back against the door, and tipped my chin up with a crooked finger. “Yeah?”
I felt the heat of him, the powerful lines of his body pressing against my curves.
My heart raced. We had to. No choice. “Yeah.”
There was a part of me that hoped the kiss at the altar had been a fluke. Something that happened once by accident. Something that couldn’t be repeated.
But that hope exhaled its final breath as Cosimo’s mouth pressed down on mine.
If the room had felt too small before, now it vanished entirely. There was only him. The scrape of his teeth against my lower lip. The slick stroke of his tongue. The low sound he made when I kissed him back, like he’d wanted to stay in control, and I’d just ruined that for him.
I dragged my fingers into his hair and tugged. A moan worked its way out of me at the feel of his hands tightening on my waist. He caught my hip, pulling me into him until I felt the hard length of him against my thigh.
A flare of panic lit somewhere in the back of my mind.
This was supposed to be for show.
There was nothing fake aboutthat.
He pressed me harder against the door, swallowing the next sound that broke from me. I was so hot, so dizzy, so completely lost in him, that I barely noticed his hand sliding down the door beside my head.
Not until his fingers found the handle.
Click.
The door gave way.
I would’ve fallen backward if Cosimo hadn’t caught me tightly against his body.
A few shocked gasps rang out, followed by laughter and cheers.
Cosimo cupped my cheek, his forehead touching mine, his breath still uneven against my lips.
“Good,” he murmured. “Now pull yourself together. We’ve got a convincing act to put on.”
The actthat followed turned out to be easier than I’d expected.
Dinner was filled with toasts from various family members while servers delivered and cleared seven courses with perfect timing. There was no dancing. No chants ofbacio. No need for Cosimo and me to make a further show of our affection.
Six hours after Cosimo slid a ring onto my finger, we drove through dark streets toward his house, having taken his plane back to New York.
I glanced down at the wedding band. It felt surreal. I supposed I was a married woman now. Fabiana Ferraro. By the time I gotused to using my new name, our marriage would probably be near its predetermined end.
We pulled up to Cosimo’s house.
From the outside, it looked modern and imposing: gray walls, tinted windows, a clean rectangular structure that seemed designed to give nothing away. Very much like its owner.
I glanced over at Cosimo. He was typing something out on his phone, as if this were any other evening. But it wasn’t. And not just because of the kisses we’d shared.
He’d trusted me with a secret no one else knew.
Before I could second-guess myself, I reached across the seat and squeezed his hand. “I’m not going to betray your trust, Cosimo. You didn’t want me thinking you were a cheat. I don’t want you thinking I don’t know how to keep a secret. You can trust me. What you told me today stays between us.”
His dark gaze stayed on me for an extended moment before dropping lower. To my hand resting on top of his.
