10

Vincenzo's POV

The drive from the restaurant to my house took over an hour. I stayed quiet because I had said all I needed to say in the alley behind the restaurant. Raella had to come with me either way, but I’d rather her come willingly. Which she did…though “happily” was apparently not on the table.

She spent the first chunk of the time in a broody silence, her hands folded tightly in her lap. But as the drive dragged on and the engine lulled us into a sense of calm, she eventually leaned her head against the window and let out a weary sigh.

Ten minutes later, I parked in front of my house with a sleeping Raella in the passenger seat.

“I have no clue what to do with you,” I muttered.

Fake or not, I must have been out of my mind to think this was the best course of action. I didn’t know how to be married. I didn’t want to be married.

Yet…

I looked over at Raella—my fake wife. Her dark hair was painted mahogany in the light streaming through the window, her pale skin dappled in mid-morning sun. Being with her felt more right than it should. Especially since I still didn’t know why she was at my party or in my office.

She looked so vulnerable. The disdain she’d worn since she learned my name was gone in sleep. She looked younger. Innocent.

But no matter whether Raella was innocent in all of this or not, killing the sniper with a single bullet was a mercy I wouldn’t extend to whoever was responsible for putting a hit out on her.

When I caught who was hunting her, I’d make him suffer.

The garage door opened and Joey appeared. He stopped on the three steps down to the garage, eyeing me in the driver’s seat and the unfamiliar form asleep against the window.

As the Marinelli estate manager, he was good at anticipating my needs. He’d been working with our family for generations. How many exactly, no one knew. But his pale, gaunt face had a haunted quality that could take some getting used to.

When I stepped out of the car, he waved. “I didn’t know you’d be returning with company, sir. Would you like the usual guest suite made up?”

Joey knew exactly how to make my female guests feel welcome. Clean linens, fresh bouquets, and a complimentary bottle of champagne on ice when I showed them to their temporary room.

Raella would see right through a ploy like that.

I could imagine her sneering as she took in the neutral decorations and lack of personal touch. “How many women have you taken to this bed?” she would ask.

“No, actually. I want the second master suite prepared.”

Joey was speechless for a long moment until he cleared his throat. “Of course. Whatever you need, sir.” He moved towards the passenger side door. “I can call one of the guards to carry her—”

"No," the word tore out of me before I could stop it. "I don’t want anyone to lay a fucking finger on her, understood? No one touches my woman but me."

Joey blinked again. It was the only sign of his shock. Then he bowed his head. “I’ll strip the bed and remake it myself. It will be ready by the time you get her inside.”

Without another word, he turned and hurried into the house.

I didn’t enjoy stressing him out. He did good work, and I appreciated his loyalty. But if people were going to buy that Vincenzo Marinelli was getting married, I had to sell it. To everyone.

Myself most of all.

Raella had shifted slightly, her temple resting against the crossbar between the doors. I was able to pull her door open without any trouble and slide her out of her seat.

It was only when I scooped her into my arms that I realized the mistake I’d made.

She was too close. I could feel the soft curve of her hip against my stomach. Each inhale drew between her lips like a whisper. Long lashes fluttered against her cheeks, and her strawberry scent radiated.

I reminded myself of the facts. Raella and I were pretending. I’d looked her in her face and told her she meant nothing to me. Bait. An empty vessel.

I needed to remember that.

Grimacing, I carried Raella inside the house and up the stairs. I passed by the office where I’d met her, and the image of her standing in front of me perfectly naked rose to the forefront of my mind.

Fucking hell. This might have been harder than I thought.

I passed by my bedroom and walked to the room next door. I pushed it open and found Joey adjusting the comforter.

He heard me coming and pulled the blankets down to make space for her. “I’m going to bring up fresh towels and toiletries. I assume the rest of her belongings are in the trunk?”

Gently, I nestled Raella onto the mattress and pulled the blanket up to her chin.

She shifted. Her lips parted. Then she exhaled deeply and sank back into sleep.

I backed away from the bed, not taking my eyes off of her. “She doesn’t have any belongings.”

“They haven’t arrived yet or—?”

“She has nothing,” I explained. “I’m putting you in charge of ordering her whatever she needs: a new wardrobe, jewelry, shoes, anything. Whatever she asks for, she gets. No questions asked.”

“Of course,” Joey said. But his eyes were burning with excitement. The man had been trying to dress me since I was a teenager. It was Christmas fucking morning for him.

In Joey’s hands, no one would question whether Raella belonged here or not.

She’d look made for the role.

She’d look made for me.