Page 82 of Vows of Blood

I've seen Luca angry before, felt the heat of his temper, but this is something else entirely. This is controlled fury, a predator moments from striking, and it’s both fascinating and terrifying to watch.

"Mr. Calvano, I was just... she offered to..." Roman's stammering only seems to make things worse. “My leg.”

"Luca." I’m aiming for calm and placating, even as my heart pounds against my ribs. "He shouldn’t even be back at work yet. His leg hurts, and I was just showing him some stretches and giving it a rub."

Roman’s eyes go comically wide.

That didn’t help our case.

“Giving it a rub,” Luca repeats, still not looking at me. “Oh, I saw you, on your knees in front of this man, wearing nothing more than a few scraps of material.”

Saying it like that doesn’t sound great. Slowly, I roll off my knees onto my heels and rise to stand, now feeling a little more self-conscious of my attire.

“It’s a bikini, Luca, not lingerie,” I argue, waving a hand down the length of my body. “It’s not even a thong.”

Luca squeezes his eyes shut and inhales. When he opens them again after a ten count, they remain fixed on Roman, dark and stormy, his broad shoulders rising and falling with the effort of keeping his rage in check. But I see it in the way the tendons stand out in his neck, how his lips have thinned, and when he speaks again, the deep register of his voice that barely comes out above a whisper.

“Roman, you have five seconds to get out of my sight before I do something that won't heal with some stitches."

Roman doesn't need to be told twice. He's gone so fast, that I’m scared he’ll undo the progress he’s made while he hobbles off, fleeing toward the house. He slides the door closed behind him, not daring to return my little wave, and melts into the shadows inside.

And then it's just me and Luca, with the afternoon sun blazing down on us, and tension so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

He turns slowly, and finally, his dark gaze clashes with mine, sending a giddy rush through me. As his eyes drop, lower and lower still, covering every inch of my body like a caress and drinking in every detail, my body reacts, getting a thrill out of knowing he likes what he sees.

Then I remember I’m still pissed off at him and square my shoulders, determined not to be such a pushover.

"That was unnecessarily dramatic," I say with a sigh, reaching for my sunscreen.

"Is that right?" Luca's jaw works, a muscle ticking beneath the skin.

I squeeze lotion into my palm to distract myself, even though I have plenty on already, refusing to let him see how much his reaction affects me.

“I offered to help. That’s it.”

"You offered to put your hands on one of my men?" He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You are mine, Sienna. Every inch of you. Every touch. And I will not stand by while you let other men enjoy what belongs to me."

His territorial behavior makes my insides quiver, and quite frankly, I judge myself for being this turned on by it, even wanting more. I need to know that this marriage, this chemistry, isn’t just about screwing over his father, but also, more than a little about me.

"I'm not your wife yet," I say, but it comes out breathier than I wanted. "And with the way you're acting, maybe I won’t ever be."

A fleeting wildness flashes across his face. For a moment, I think he's either going to grab me and kiss me or toss me in the pool. Instead, he suddenly takes a large step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

"Sienna, you’re walking a dangerous line. I’m giving you more leeway than I would anyone because I know you. But this is not college, and we are not twenty years old. You need to adjust your attitude and your expectations of how things will be."

Ha.

"Exactly. We’re all grown up now.” I pick up my book. “But even back then, deleting all the boys from my phone and losing it with some guy I’m helping would have been completely crossing a line."

Fully aware of his hungry eyes on my body, I stretch out on the lounge chair and let him take a long, hard look. For an uncomfortable moment, nothing happens, and unease prickles at my senses. Maybe I’ve pushed him too far. He is armed. Maybe he has a gun pointed at me right now, deciding that putting up with my shit is too high a price to take over the family business.

“I thought you would be a good choice for a wife because we know each other, we can talk things through…”

I can feel his gaze on me, burning into my skin.

“Right. Just like you talked through erasing all of my friend’s numbers.” Opening one eye, I look up at him. “Or maybe, the idea of having some fun made you forget that I might have agreed to be your wife, but I’m not getting a lobotomy. I’m still me. And I won’t be walked all over or pushed around.” Returning to my book once more, I add, “Maybe you need to adjust your expectations and think about whether you’ve got the right woman for the job.”

Suddenly, my book is ripped from my fingers and tossed into the pool, floating, pages spread in the heavenly blue water.