The Unwanted Conti Bride. Tara Pammi

off his pretty face with her bare hands. “No, like a contraceptive.”

      “That’s none of your...” He moved so fast and so smoothly that Sophia blinked. The heat from his body was a tantalizing caress on her skin, beckoning her closer. She answered only to stop him from coming closer. “Yes, fine. I’m on the pill. Not that it’s relevant to you.”

      He pushed a tendril of hair away from her temple. That stubborn lock that never stayed back. “Good.” His warm breath raised the little hairs on her neck.

      Knowing that he was saying it to shock her didn’t stop a pulse of throbbing need between her legs. It took every ounce of her energy not to press her thighs close. She needed something distasteful, something to snap herself out of that sensual web he weaved... “You... I... You’ve had numerous lovers. I won’t just—”

      The glittering hunger in his eyes told her she’d already betrayed herself by talking as though she was considering it. Damn! “I’m clean.”

      Like a dream, feverish and hot and full of some elusive subtext, he left.

      Sophia stared at the door for a long time, her knees shaking. Covering her face with her hands, she sank back against the desk.

      Luca Conti was going to marry her. Of all the men in the world, that unpredictable, recklessly indulgent playboy was giving her the chance no one else would. It was going to tangle up everything with everyone horribly. Three months of her life would change the course of the rest of her life. Even after his reckless cruelty ten years ago, she was still affected by him.

      But Sophia could only obsess over one thing.

      That, for three months, she could kiss him all she wanted.

CHAPTER FOUR

      LUCA HAD KNOWN rejection from his mother when he’d been seven. He’d suffered debilitating headaches, insomnia and worse before he hit puberty.

      The first time he’d had sex, he had been seventeen, with a woman a decade older. He hadn’t really wanted the sex; he’d wanted to be held by the woman, to be less lonely for one night. Messed up as he’d been, he’d still realized what he’d done.

      He’d whored himself—his looks, his charm, his body, for a bit of affection.

      One didn’t need a degree in psychiatry to realize that.

      When Leandro had finally discovered him—his brother had always come after him no matter the time of the day, no matter how devious Luca tried to be—sitting on the floor of the hotel room with his head in his hands, and looked at him with nothing but understanding and patience and that all-consuming love that his brother used to justify arranging his siblings’ lives, Luca had thrown up all over the floor. And promised himself never again.

      Never again would he sink that low.

      Never again would he succumb to that cavernous craving within.

      Never again would he be without control.

      For the most part, he was sure he’d succeeded.

      Instead of fighting the sudden bouts of insomnia and crazy energy, he poured himself into everything and anything he could get his hands on. He studied like a madman, inhaling and conquering every subject he touched. He’d become a human sponge.

      Leandro would sigh and smile when Luca said he wanted to try something new.

      Arts and history. Mathematics and astronomy. He’d dabbled in all of them, but moved on, nothing calming the restlessness within. Only music—the relentless, endless chords churning in his head released onto paper, played until he achieved every single note—could soothe it.

      It was both his release and his curse. He’d fashioned a wooden doll for Tina after she’d come to live with them, and realized he loved creating things, designing things, too. So he’d started working with Lin Huang, the creative head of Conti Luxury Goods’ design department.

      Through the years he’d achieved a kind of balance, a normal—for him. He wrote music for hours on end when in that grip, worked at CLG and other projects of his own, surviving on an hour or more of sleep for days. Then he had those carefree days where he got drunk, partied, took endless women to his bed. And had uproarious fun at the expense of others.

      Fortunately for him, he’d discovered he liked sex, just for itself. That he could enjoy it without whoring himself for something else. He’d slipped up only once from the happy path he was forging for himself.

      Ten years ago, with Sophia. She’d been the first real thing in his life and he had let himself be carried away.

      Sophia was the only one who’d ever made him forget himself, who had shredded his control so effortlessly.

      For all his reputation as a self-indulgent playboy, control was tantamount to his peace of mind. It was something Leandro and he had rigorously worked on in those initial months after their mother had left. He’d spent hours on the mat mastering several martial arts disciplines.

      He had an example from his father’s life. He knew that like everything else he’d inherited from him, he could carry a speck of that madness—that devious, manipulative, cruel streak, too.

      Control was everything to him.

      Stepping out of the shower, Luca walked to the mirror and rubbed it to clear the steam. Hands on the marble sink, he stared at himself.

      He looked past the compelling perfection of his features—a face he’d hated for so long—past the now bone-deep mask he showed the world. He had never lied to himself. Self-delusion would have been a welcome friend in all those miserable years.

      He was doing this because of Sophia.

      He was doing this because he wanted these three months with her.

      He wanted to be near her, inside her. He wanted to unravel all the fiery passion she kept locked away.

      He wanted to free her from the cage she put herself in; a cage, he was sure, he’d driven her into building.

      But this time Sophia knew the score, knew what he was incapable of. She wasn’t an innocent who mistook attraction, pure lust for anything else. This was not a marriage like his parents’.

      Sophia wasn’t some innocent, painfully naive young girl Antonio had handpicked like some sacrificial offering to his father’s madness, to further the Conti legacy like his mother had been.

      Sophia would never let herself be intimidated or drowned in Luca’s personality.

      The panic in him calming, Luca breathed out. Excitement filled his veins now.

      For the first and only time in his life, the self-indulgent, profligate playboy he’d made himself to be was going to take what he truly wanted. And revel in it.

      That he would set Sophia up for the rest of her life and do his part to protect Tina’s marriage, that was the bonus.

      * * *

      Meet me @ Palazzo Reale Monday 10AM.

      Don’t wear black. J

      The texts came on Saturday night at seven, a whole week after Luca had cornered Sophia at CLG offices. They also sent her soup down the wrong pipe at the dinner table.