The Marriage Clause

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“The contract says one bedroom, not one bed,” she pointed out. “So, technically, if we’re still in the same room...it doesn’t mean that we have to be in the same bed.”

“You can take the floor if you like, but I’m taking the bed,” I said, enjoying how her upper lip wrinkled in subtle distaste for the same reasons mine did. “But if you’re amenable to sharing the bed, I’m not opposed to it.”

“I don’t mind sleeping on the floor,” she bluffed.

“Excellent. Then it’s settled. Maybe we can get an extra blanket for you. San Francisco is quite chilly at night.”

Especially in January.

“You would make me sleep on the floor?” Katherine asked.

“Of course not. You’re the one insisting on sleeping on the floor.”

“I am not,” she refuted, scowling a little. “You are by not being a gentleman.”

At that I laughed. “Have I ever been accused of being a gentleman?”

Katherine opened her mouth but stopped short. I would give anything for a window into that overactive brain of hers. What memory had popped in before she ignored it? I would ask if I thought she might admit it, but I wasn’t going to waste the energy. Not yet, anyway. “Fine,” she agreed through gritted teeth. “But I swear to God, if you touch me...”

I waved away her threat. “Sweetheart, I promise I won’t touch you...until you beg for it.”

Katherine flushed red but managed a haughty “Like that’s ever going to happen” before she left me alone in the room, supposedly to use the communal toilet. I cracked a grin at imagining how Katherine would shriek at the bathroom conditions. She talked a good game, but she was out of her element. As much as she wanted to play the hippie flower child, she was just as accustomed to wealth as me. I doubted the “charm” of her accommodations would last long.

Perusing the small room, I chuckled at the memories of Europe—young, dumb and full of come, as they say—me and my buddies traipsing through London, Athens, Paris in one long, endless summer of debauchery.

All those foreign, exotic women—I limited myself to nothing. Curvy, thin, short, tall, thick. And wild, shy and timid—I enjoyed the smorgasbord of female options and learned a few things, too.

We often joked it was a miracle we’d escaped alive with our cocks intact. Although Ryin had caught a particularly nasty infection that’d required a stringent round of antibiotics—but at least it’d been curable.

And speaking of debauchery...

I grabbed my cell and dialed my friend Dillon Buchanan.

He surprised me with a quick answer. “Fucking A, Luca Donato? What are you doing? Are you in town?”

“I am, and I’m looking for a little entertainment. You and your brothers still own that club?”

“We do—damn source of contention with the wives, but yeah. You interested in playing while in town? I could set you up with some playmates.”

“Thanks, but I brought my own. My fiancée, actually. I want to treat her to the wonders of Malvagio before we head back at the end of the week.”

Malvagio, originally owned by Dillon’s twin brothers, Nolan and Vince, was an exclusive sex club, intensely private, invite only, and it took an act of God to gain an invitation from a sponsored member. The shit that happened between those walls was pure hedonism, catering to certain fetishes with a definite Eyes Wide Shut vibe to the entire operation.

The obscenely wealthy needed their diversions, and the Buchanan brothers had found a way to cash in on that need.

Not that they needed any money—the Buchanans were billionaires in their own right—but hey, nobody turned down more cash, right?

“Fiancée...holy shit. Never thought I’d see that happen. Is she mentally challenged?” Dillon joked.

“Ha-ha,” I retorted. “Coming from the man who found a woman to marry him, in spite of being the biggest asshole in the city.”

“I’m only an asshole to you. To my lady, I’m Don fucking Juan. What are your plans for tomorrow night? The auction is on the calendar. Interested?”

I grinned. Each year Malvagio opened its membership to women hoping to gain a sponsor into the club, but in order to do so, they went on the block and sponsors competed for the prize.

It was sexist as hell, but everyone seemed to enjoy the show, so no harm, no foul.

“Sounds fun,” I answered, already picturing Katherine’s expression of shock. “Put me on the list with a plus-one.”

We exchanged a few good-natured insults and then said our goodbyes.

By the time Katherine returned, I was smiling like the Cheshire cat.

CHAPTER FIVE (#u36704d03-5952-5d74-ac3b-a1fcfd0985ea)

Katherine

I DIDN’T TRUST that smile. Luca had something up his sleeve. I didn’t expect him to cough up his master plan, though. All I could do was remain vigilant and deflect any attempts at seduction that he might try.

Oh, yes. I knew he was going to pull out all the stops. Probably try to woo me with fancy dinners and sickeningly trite flattery, because that was all he knew of me from our past, but I was long past that girl.

He’d broken me two years ago. And even before then, I could feel myself changing as my perspective of the world shifted. I guessed higher learning did that to you. He could waste his time plying me with useless trinkets and hollow conversation, but I was immune. I would endure this week and then finally walk away from the Donato family forever. Starting fresh was scary, but there was something exhilarating about the prospect, too. I couldn’t wait.

A moment of disquiet intruded on my budding elation. I’d known the Donato boys as long as I could remember. Nico, Luca’s youngest brother, and I were friends. I didn’t care for Dante much—he was too much like Giovanni—but the point was, they’d always been part of my life. I didn’t know what life would be like without their influence casting a shadow, both good and bad.

I guessed I would find out.

“I’m hungry,” he announced, checking his watch. “Let’s get some dinner.”

Ah, here it comes. “Let me guess...a candlelit dinner for two atop the highest building in the city? A glorious view of the bay, stars twinkling, the mood just right...so cozy, so romantic,” I mocked. Like I’m going to fall for that. I folded my arms across my chest, smug. “But it’s my day to pick.”

He frowned. “A simple ‘no, thanks’ would’ve been fine.”

“Like you weren’t angling for some romantic night out,” I said, calling his bluff.

“Not unless you consider a burger down at the corner pub romantic,” he said, his expression clearly saying, Calm your tits, crazy lady, but I wasn’t buying it. He grabbed his coat. “You coming or not?”

“Not.”

“Suit yourself.”

My certainty faltered as Luca headed for the door. Was he actually going to leave me behind? My stomach growled in protest. “Are you really going for a burger?” I called after him, grabbing my coat to join him. He shook his head with open annoyance at my suspicion, then he kept walking. He exited the hostel and stepped onto the sidewalk, his stride so damn confident that even passersby took notice. I couldn’t help staring just a little. Everywhere Luca went, he attracted attention. If it wasn’t for his looks, it was his demeanor. He had a way of walking into a room and instantly taking control. It was as if the universe engineered every circumstance to his advantage, and that drove me nuts.

Even if it was a little bit sexy. Okay, maybe a lot sexy, but I wasn’t going to feed his massive ego by admitting it. If anything, I would deny it until I died, just to prick a few holes in that giant head of his.

The pub wasn’t far, true to his word, and I could smell the aroma of something delicious the minute we were within a few feet. My stomach clenched with hunger, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since that morning at Alana’s, and I was privately glad I’d decided to tag along. I’d let Luca spend his money so I could keep what I had in reserve.

An Irish pub, the interior dark paneling punctuated by import-beer signs and raucous laughter, the place had a fun vibe that was hard to dislike. We slid into a cozy booth, and a terminally cute and bubbly waitress named Erin bounced over to our table.

“Welcome to Harrigans. What can I get you to start off with?”

“Murphy’s Irish stout,” Luca answered, earning a smile from Little Miss Easily Impressed.

Her gaze lingered for a second longer than necessary before she gestured to me. “And your lady?” she asked, clearly on a fishing expedition.

Might as well help the girl out. Do her a solid.

“I’m not his lady,” I corrected her, shooting Luca a pointed look, daring him to say anything different, but the man simply sat there, waiting for me to give Erin my drink order, which only made me look like a bitchy shrew. “We are...uh...business associates,” I clarified with a smile. “And I’ll have a Guinness.”

“Oh, my mistake. You two look so sweet together I just kinda assumed. I’m so sorry. Be right back.” She beamed and bounced away like the human equivalent of a bunny rabbit with giant boobs.

“I think she likes you,” I said, hoping to goad him into saying or doing something that would cement my disdain for him, but he didn’t even nibble at the bait. I tried harder. “Supercute, too. Those boobs, right? Pretty big. If you like that sort of thing. I mean, of course you do. All guys lose their minds over big tits. I think it’s etched in your DNA.”

“You seem pretty obsessed with our waitress’s breasts,” he observed, amused.

Heat climbed my throat to heat my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant... Oh, forget it. Never mind,” I said, letting it go. He wasn’t going to do something so overtly offensive as coming on to the waitress on the first day of our deal. What an amateur move. If I wanted to win, I had to stop thinking so small.

Erin returned with our drinks, and after we both ordered the house burgers, I fidgeted a little, unsure of what to do with my hands. Finally, I settled with my hands in my lap, but I was intensely aware of how an entirely too-small table was the only obstacle between us. Our knees were practically kissing beneath the table.

Was I supposed to make small talk? I had two settings around Luca—head over heels in love and despise with the force of an EMP blast—I didn’t know how to be neutral.

And his seemingly relaxed, taking-in-the-ambience attitude wasn’t helping things. Why wasn’t he acting like he normally did—arrogant or patronizing—so I could find my bearings?

I didn’t know how to reconcile that Luca with this chill dude.

“How’d you know about this place?” I asked, breaking the awkward silence. “Have you been here before?”

“Nope. Dinner locale courtesy of Google Maps. It was the closest to the hostel and had a good Yelp review. I figure we had nothing to lose, seeing as we were already taking our lives for granted by staying in the murder motel for the night, but, hey, life is for the living, right?” He lifted his bottle in salute and tipped it back. “Plus, it reminds me of a few pubs me and my buddies frequented in Scotland. Good times, except for the time I was persuaded to eat haggis on a drunken dare.”

I dragged my gaze away from the spectacle of those sensual lips wrapping around the bottle top and focused on my own drink. I didn’t care for Guinness, but it seemed sacrilegious to order anything less in an Irish pub. Besides, the beer helped loosen the tension cording my shoulders, so I continued to slug it down. “How’d that end?” I asked.

“With my head stuck in a dirty toilet and a bunch of locals laughing their asses off,” he answered wryly. “Never touched haggis again.”

I bit back a laugh, but I rather liked the image of a young Luca puking his guts out in a foreign country.

“You like that, huh?” His slow grin did terrible things to my stomach. “Then you’ll love the story of how I woke up after a wild night in London to find my face a different color than when I passed out. The fuckers sprayed me with the darkest sunless tanner they could find. I went to bed white and woke up a mottled dark brown, and that shit did not scrub off easily. I spent the rest of the week looking like I’d caught a skin disease until it wore off.”

At that I really did laugh. “Was this during your European pub crawl after high school?”

“The very same. How’d you know? You were pretty young then.”

“I always knew what was going on. My circumstances weren’t exactly normal.”

He conceded my point with a silent nod, but before either of us could say much more, our food arrived and we both let it go, choosing dinner over uncomfortable topics.

And I was grateful. I didn’t want to have a deep, soulful conversation with Luca about anything, much less my unorthodox childhood, thanks to his family, and he’d seemed on the verge of saying something distressingly nice or even apologetic.

I couldn’t risk buying into anything he had to say, even if a part of me craved it more than I wanted to admit.

I’d long since stopped wondering how things might’ve been different if Luca had apologized in the slightest for breaking my heart... I wondered if I would’ve granted my forgiveness. I knew the answer—of course I would’ve. I’d been helplessly in love with the jackass. I was pretty sure stars had twinkled in my eyes like a cartoon character whenever he’d been around.