“It’s been decided. No arguments.”
“But Luca, I came to discuss the matter Tony has been working on….”
“I’ll handle that, Clara, you handle this.” I jerk my thumb at my scowling princess. “And keep a firm grip on her while you’re at Bergdorf. She has a tendency to run.” I pin Stella in my dark gaze, clenching my jaw. “Mario will escort you, and if I hear you gave him a hard time, I will punish you for real this time, princess.”
She snorts on a laugh, staring up at me defiantly. And damn, if that look doesn’t make my dick twitch.
“Clara, you have the social calendar, please make sure the gowns are appropriate.”
“Of course, signore.”
My gaze lingers on Stella for a long moment before I reach for my briefcase on the table and force my feet toward the elevator. “I’ll see you tonight,” I murmur over my shoulder.
She doesn’t respond, or perhaps I don’t hear it with the elevator doors gliding closed. Either way, the moment I’m alone an unfamiliar emptiness invades my chest.
Cazzo, one night alone with this woman, and she already has me by the balls.
CHAPTER16
PRETTY WOMAN GONE WRONG
Stella
I feel like I’m a freaking curvy, Italian Julia Roberts inPretty Womanwith the three salesladies hovering around me like flies on shit. Only they’re offering me champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, and I haven’t even had to screw Luca.
Which I thoroughly have no intention of ever doing.
Despite the face that kept popping into my head all night and again this morning. It was only because of his damned shirt. It was seeped in his spicy, musky scent and I’d woken up horny as hell, my clit throbbing with images of his perfect naked body seared into my mind.
I’ve been in kind of a dry spell in that department. After Bo, I’d sworn off men for a while, and after the tension of being kidnapped, I’d desperately needed some sort of release. It had to be that lethal combination. There is no other sane reason.
“Stella?” Clara’s voice tears me away from my insane musings.
“Hmm?”
“Is there anything else you’d like to try on?”
I stare at the mountain of designer gowns on the chair, the tower of shoeboxes and the dozens of shopping bags and shake my head. “No, I think I’m good.” For the rest of my life. There’s no way I’ll use all these designer clothes in one month even if I changed outfits three times a day.
Clara hands the saleslady the black AMEX, and again I’m floored as she signs multiple thousands away. I’ve never seen so many zeros on a receipt.
“God, Luca really is a millionaire, huh?” I mutter to Magda.
“Billionaire actually.”
Holy cannoli.
“The youngest billionaire in all of Manhattan.” Clara beams, pride flashing across her expressive irises. “When he took over King Industries, he tripled its market share and quadrupled earnings. His papà would be so proud.”
My chest tightens at the word. My own father was trash. What kind of piece of shit sells off his only daughter? I couldn’t even start to unpack that baggage. If I let myself think, really think about this situation, I’d curl into the fetal position and just bawl.
Instead, I’ll tuck away all the pain, fear and uncertainty to deal with later. Right now, survival is key.
“You really look beautiful in all these gowns, Stella.” Magda’s pale eyes sparkle.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
I wanted to hate both of these women, but after spending the entire day with them, I couldn’t. Magda is sweet and shy, and never says a harsh word, and Clara with her overprotective, mother-hen routine reminds me of my mom.
