Chapter eight: Behind closed doors

Fiona’s POV

My father couldn’t even meet my eyes as he opened his mouth to talk.

“Of course.”

I stared at my father this was absurd surely, I had heard him wrong.

“Papa?” I asked wanting clarification because I needed to know what was the rationale behind letting me have a one on one with the monster soon to be husband.

But my father wouldn’t look at me. Instead, his attention remained fixed on Luca, who looked entirely too pleased with himself.

At this point it’s save to say Luca has my father on a tight leash.

“You can use my study. I believe you two should get to know each other before the wedding.”

I almost laughed. Get to know each other? Was that what we were calling this now?

“Actually, Papa, I don’t think that’s necessary. We’ve been getting along wonderfully, haven’t we, Mr. Ricci?”

Luca turned toward me, looking amused.

“Splendidly. Although I suspect there’s still plenty we haven’t discussed.”

“Like what? Your favorite color? Your hobbies? Whether you enjoy threatening innocent people before or after breakfast?”

Matteo coughed into his napkin while Viviana suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.

I was proud of myself, I had my tongue for like ten minute after meeting this man before I said something absurd.

“Fiona!” Father snapped.

“What? I’m trying to get to know my future husband. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Mother touched Father’s arm. “Vito, perhaps we should let them finish eating first our guests must be hungry.”

“There’s no need,” Luca interrupted smoothly. “We won’t be long.”

I looked at him and stopped my self from rolling my eyes.

“That’s reassuring. I was beginning to worry you’d arranged an entire interrogation.”

His mouth curved. “Only if you have something to confess.”

Oh, I had plenty to say but unfortunately most of it involved where he could shove his marriage proposal.

“Fiona, show Luca to my study,” Father instructed.

I stared at him, waiting for some indication that he was joking.

But nothing came.

“Papa, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“We’ll speak afterward.”

“But—”

“Fiona.” He interjected and there it was, the tone that meant the conversation was over, regardless of whether I agreed.

I looked around the table to observe everyone’s expression, my Mother seemed uncomfortable, Viviana was no longer smiling, and Luca’s escorts were studying their wine with the dedication of a man preparing for an examination.

But what was clear was that nobody was going to help me.

Wonderful.

I pushed my chair back and stood. “Fine. Would His Majesty like to follow me?”

Luca rose immediately, buttoning his jacket.

“Lead the way, little dove.”

I stopped and lowered my voice just so he could hear me. “Can you please stop calling me that?”

“Would you prefer something else?”

“Fiona. It’s a lovely name taking note of the fact that my parents spent considerable time choosing it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Something told me he absolutely wouldn’t.

***

The walk to Father’s study was painfully quiet.

I moved ahead of Luca, deliberately walking faster than necessary, but the bastard kept up without the slightest difficulty.

Of course he did, even his legs were annoying.

“Do you always walk this quickly?” he asked.

“Only when I’m trying to get away from someone.”

“And yet you’re leading me somewhere.”

“Against my better judgment.”

He laughed softly and I glanced over my shoulder.

“Do you find everything funny?”

“Not everything. You’re proving particularly entertaining, though.”

“I’m delighted my suffering is providing you with amusement.”

“You’re not suffering yet, Fiona.”

I stopped and Slowly turned toward him, surely that meant something else?

He stood a few feet away, looking perfectly relaxed.

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

“No. Merely an observation.”

I stared at him and then shook my head and continued walking.

This man was actually insane.

Father’s study was at the end of the corridor, behind two enormous wooden doors. I opened one and stepped aside.

“After you.”

Luca entered, looking around with the casual interest of someone inspecting a hotel suite.

I followed him inside and closed the door.

He approached Father’s desk, ran his fingers briefly along the polished wood, then pulled out the large leather chair behind it.

And sat on MY FATHER’S CHAIR just like that at the head of his desk as though he’d been sitting there his entire life.

I stared at him in shock because of all the seats in the room, he’d chosen the one that belonged to Vito Romano.

The chair even Father’s closest associates wouldn’t dare occupy without permission.

And Luca Ricci had settled into it like he owned the entire house.

I was beginning to understand why my father was so afraid of this man.

“Are you comfortable?” I asked sarcastically.

Luca looked up at me from Father’s chair. “Very.”

“Wonderful. Would you like me to bring you his slippers too?”

He leaned back. “Does he have comfortable slippers?”

I opened my mouth to say something but quickly closed it and then laughed despite myself.

God, I hated him.

“You’re unbelievable.” I said as I swallowed the urge to run out of the room.

“I’ve been told.”

“Frequently, I imagine.”

“Usually by people who dislike me.”

“Then you must hear it every day.”

His smile widened.

I remained standing near the door, arms folded across my chest.

Luca watched me for a moment before gesturing toward the chair opposite him.

“Sit, Fiona.”

“I’d rather stand.”

“Suit yourself.”

He didn’t argue yet somehow, that annoyed me more because I wanted him to insist I sit.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke. He simply studied me with those ridiculous grey eyes while I considered whether leaving through the window was a reasonable option.

Then he leaned forward.

“Tell me something, Fiona. What do you think about me and this marriage?”

I blinked. “What?”

“It’s a simple question. What do you think about marrying me?”

That was it?

He’d dragged me away from dinner, occupied my father’s chair, and now wanted my opinion?

I didn’t trust it, not for one second.