Page 13 of When She Loves
Tomorrow, Cleo Garzolo will become Cleo Messero, and there abso-fucking-lutely nothing anyone can do about it.
CHAPTER5
RAFAELE
Voicesfrom the dining room trickle down the hall, but I ignore them and make my way to the sitting room where Cleo is supposed to be waiting.
I pause in front of the French doors and drag my palm down my tie.
My skin buzzes with something that feels vaguely like excitement.
Strange. I don’t get excited very often.
I definitely wasn’t excited about getting married to Gemma, but I would have gone through with it. It was in the contract, my name and hers signed on the bottom line. She was perfectly acceptable, a woman raised to be a wife of a high-ranking capo or a don, someone I wouldn’t have had to worry or think too much about. She knew what was expected of her. But as the date of our wedding neared, I couldn’t stop thinking about her sister, with her insolent mouth and reprehensible manners. A girl completely unsuitable for the role.
Cleo’s narrowed green eyes taunted my dreams. I woke up hard, desperate to know what it would feel like to have that mouth wrapped around my cock.
I give my head a shake and grasp the door handle. Tomorrow, she’ll become mine, and then I’ll be able to move past this bizarre fascination. Cleo will no longer be a beautiful temptation, but a woman who’s tied to me for life.
Familiarity breeds boredom, right?
I pull the door open and step inside.
Cleo is perched on a black velvet sofa, her back angled to me. Beside her is Sabina, but I barely notice the house manager.
My fiancée turns and when our gazes clash, a current sparks through me.
Her expression is carefully guarded, her spine is welded straight, and her hands are folded primly in her lap. This is the most demure I’ve ever seen her.
I slide my hands into the pockets of my trousers. “Good evening.”
That’s when the demure illusion breaks. Anger flashes inside her gaze, and then she’s on her feet, stomping across the room until she’s standing right in front of me.
Amusement crackles through me at the fierce expression on her face.
Yes, this is the Cleo I recognize.
“What happened to my sister?” she demands.
Her scent fills my nose. No perfume, just clean skin, and a hint of floral shampoo.
My pulse picks up speed. Her hair is all pulled back in a bun and my hands itch to loosen it. I want to bury my nose in that magnificent copper hair and wrap it tight around my fist.
Why the fuck did Sabina hide it all away?
The old woman rushes to Cleo’s side. “Don Messero, I apologize—”
“Leave us.”
Cleo holds my gaze as the house manager scurries out of the room.
“I asked you where my sister is,” she says in a low, hostile tone. “I need to know if she’s okay.”
I should have known that would be the first question out of her mouth. After all, she’s doing all of this for her sister’s sake.
“I don’t know. She is none of my concern anymore.”
Her nostrils flare like she’s unhappy with my response, but it’s the truth. I made sure Gemma was allowed to leave without any interference from her father, but that’s where my goodwill ended.
