Sweet Temptation

My head shot up, my cheeks flaming. “I’m sorry, sir,” I blurted. My proper upbringing be damned.

Cassio stared down at me, glowering. Then realization settled on his features.

As far as first impressions went, this could have gone smoother.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

I looked down at the girl before me. She watched me with huge blue eyes and parted lips. Then I realized who the girl was. Giulia Rizzo, my future wife.

I stared. Beside me, Faro was holding back laughter, but I wasn’t close to fucking amusement. The woman—the girl—who would become my wife in less than three months had just called me “sir.”

My eyes raked over her body, taking in her bare feet, slender legs, ugly denim dress, and the flowery atrocity she wore as a top. Finally, my eyes settled on her face. She still had bangs, but the rest of her hair was long and wavy, trailing down her bare shoulders.

She raised her eyes when I didn’t make a move to let her past and stiffened, obviously surprised by my unwavering attention.

I had to admit that the bangs didn’t look half bad. She was very pretty. A lovely girl. That was the problem. Dressed as she was, she looked like a teenage girl, not a woman—definitely not a wife and mother.

She touched her bangs with shaking fingers, a blush creeping over her cheeks.

She must have heard everything we’d said.

I sighed. This was a bad idea. I knew it from the start, but things had been agreed upon and now there was no going back. She would become my wife and hopefully never call me sir again.

She dropped her hand and straightened. “Excuse me, sir, I don’t mean to offend you, but you shouldn’t be alone with me without supervision, much less stand this close to me.”

Faro gave me a look that made it clear he was close to pissing himself.

I narrowed my eyes at Giulia, not stepping back, but I had to admit I liked that she stood up to me despite the power I held. “You know who I am?”

“Yes, you are Underboss in Philadelphia, but I fall under the rule of my father, not yours, and even if I did, honor forbids me to be alone with a man I’m not married to.”

“That’s true,” I said quietly. “But in less than four months you will be my wife.”

She tipped her chin up, trying to look taller. Her show was impressive, but her shaking fingers and wide eyes betrayed her fear.

“How I see it… you spied on us. We had a confidential conversation that you barged in on without permission,” I said in a low voice.

She looked away. “I was in the library when you came in and startled me.”

Faro started laughing beside me. I silenced him with a glare and heaved a sigh. I didn’t have the patience for drama. For weeks, I’d hardly slept through a night. The maids took most of the work off my hands, but Simona’s crying woke me anyway. I needed a mother for my children, not another child to take care of. “Faro, can you give us a moment?”

Giulia regarded me with uncertainty, still backed into that shelf. I took a step away from her, giving her the appropriate space. Faro left and closed the door.

“This is inappropriate,” she said in her soft voice.

“I want to have a quick word with you. Later, your parents will be around and we won’t have time to talk.”

“My mother will do all the talking. She’s exhausting like that.”

Was she teasing me? Her face was curious and cautious.

“That wasn’t meant for your ears.” I motioned toward the armchairs. “Will you talk to me?”

She tilted her head as if she tried to understand me. “Of course.”

I waited for her to sit before I took my own seat. She crossed her legs, then smoothed her bangs again, but flushed when she saw me watching. Her nose twitched. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my mother about this—”

“Don’t call me sir,” I growled.

She winced, stunned. “What am I supposed to call you?”

“How about you call me Cassio? I’ll be your husband soon.”

She released a shaky breath. “November.”

“Yes. Once you turn eighteen.”

“Does it make a difference? How do a few more months make me a viable wife when I’m not now?”

“You’re too young either way, but I’ll feel more comfortable marrying you when you’re of age officially.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

“I have two small children who need taking care of. Daniele is two, almost three then, and Simona will be ten months when we marry.”

“Can you show me photos?” she asked, surprising me.

I took out my phone and showed her my background: a photo taken shortly before Gaia’s death, but she wasn’t in it. Daniele was cradling his four-month-old sister in his arms.

I watched Giulia’s face. Her expression softened, and she smiled—an unguarded, honest smile. Not like the smiles I was used to from the women in our circles. That, too, showed how young she was. Not yet jaded and guarded.