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The man who disturbed my peace, yet made me crave a life I never imagined. Over the past three days, he had done so much for me that I was torn between the way I believed he was and who he was proving to be.

“One moment.” When I entered the room, Giovanni’s mouth fell open and then his perfect lips clamped shut and his gaze intensified.

“Temptation,” he said just above a whisper. The way my pulse amplified, I was certain the color of my face turned red. Lunch was a mess. I could hardly take a bite without his eyes raking over my upper body.

“I should finish getting dressed.”

“Yes, you should,” he grunted. I stood, giving him a polite smile while Giovanni gripped the edges of the table. My heart pumped wildly as I stared at the feral look in his eyes.

An hour later, I had on the prettiest slip dress I’d ever seen. The color worked with my dark brown hair.

He’d been on the phone when I returned fully dressed. He stopped mid sentence and then said, “I have to go.” He ended the call without taking his eyes off me. “Damn it, little rabbit. You look like a sweet treat.” His voice was harsh, deep, and full of that passion I remembered from our one intimate encounter.

“We better go before I forget that we have a date.” Was he always like this when he took women out? Did they miss the date for the bed instead?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t lie.” He cupped my chin and added, “Tell me what happened to that precious smile.”

“It’s just…oh, you’re going to think I’m a fool. Our marriage was just a deal.”

“Not for me. Tell me.”

“I wondered about your previous dates and if you were too hungry to actually leave the suite.”

“No. No dates, no women, and definitely no sex,” he whispered against my jaw. “Now let’s go before I turn all those Nos to Yeses.” I nodded and let him lead me to the elevator.

He leaned against one side of the empty car and yet, his scent, attention, and look tempted me to cross the gap between us and forget the date. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head ever so slightly in disapproval.

With a click of his tongue, he said, “Tsk, tsk. You’re lying again. A bad Rosetti habit, but remember, you’re no longer a Rosetti.”

“Technically, but you haven’t made it official.”

“It’s as if you’re trying to miss out on the premiere.” The door pinged, stopping me from having to admit the truth. The premiere wasn’t on my mind. The dark-haired, hazel-eyed Italian mob boss was my only focus. His lust drove mine. He took my hand, laced our fingers, and then led us out to the waiting car.

The ride was mercifully short. My brain had short-circuited the entire trip as I only concerned myself with my desire:

Heat.

Ache.

Need.

My face reddened, and all my tender places tingled.

By the time I stepped out, lust filled every nerve. Tonight, I planned on feeling my husband’s cock deep inside me. The cameras flashed as soon as we exited. “Damn it,” he growled. He addressed our driver. “Marco, obtain all shots of my wife.”

“Yes, Boss. Do you want them destroyed?” Was he trying to hide me?

“No, I want copies.” He turned to me and said, “Come, let me present my beautiful wife to the world.”

“Wow, who are you wearing?” I was asked several times as we walked the red carpet.

“Carolina Hererra,” Giovanni answered for me, which was good because I had no idea in the slightest who I was wearing.