The Marriage Clause (Dirty Sexy Rich 1)

“This is Sister Bernice,” Sister Mary said in quick introduction. “She’ll be your supervisor today. Sister Bernice, this is Katherine. Have a blessed day and thank you for your contribution.”

And then Sister Mary left me with the battle-ax.

“We’re kitchen detail,” Sister Bernice said flatly, turning and expecting me to follow, which I reluctantly did. We rounded the corner and entered a huge working kitchen, bustling with activity. Everywhere I looked, people were passing to and fro, hands filled with giant bowls of food, heading for the serving hall. I figured I was going to be cooking or chopping, something food related, but when Sister Bernice pointed to the stack of dishes crowding the oversize sink, I felt like Cinderella staring at an impossible workload, except I didn’t have any mice or birds to help me with the job.

“I’m pretty good with cutting and chopping,” I offered helpfully. “I can chop with the best of them.”

“We have all the choppers we need,” Bernice stated with a brief lift of her lips that might have passed for a smile in a different life. “We need someone to wash dishes.”

“Of course. No problem.” I offered a wan smile and went to the monster sink and the mile-high dishes crusted with food. I slipped the rubber gloves on and grabbed the industrial-size nozzle to start rinsing.

Each time I cleared a spot, another cartful of dishes appeared, until I couldn’t pretend to smile anymore, but I didn’t quit. Quitting would only prove that I was exactly the type of person I didn’t want to be. Maybe all this time I’d been playing the part of an independent woman, knowing full well that I could access my trust at any time. Just like Luca had accused.

I used my forearm to wipe the sweat from my forehead before it dripped into my eye. It was cold as a witch’s tit outside, but in this kitchen, it was roasting.

“You look thirsty,” a voice said. I turned and saw a young man offering a bottled water, which I gratefully accepted. “How’d you end up on dish duty? You give Sister Bernice attitude or something?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “I didn’t say two words to her before she sized me up and stuck me here.” I guzzled the water, out of breath by the last swallow. “Thanks,” I said, smiling. “My name’s Katherine. What’s yours?”

“Bart,” he answered, extending his hand in welcome. “Let me guess...community service for...a drunken sorority prank?”

I laughed. “No, I came because I thought it would—” make my fiancé run back to New York “—be fun.”

“Are you having fun?” he asked, his brow rising. “Because you look miserable.”

I started to protest, but I didn’t have the energy to lie. “I’m...totally miserable,” I admitted. “So why are you here?”

“Community service. Drunken frat prank,” he answered with a wink. “Anyway, the sisters are always good for signing off on community service, so they have a pretty steady stream of volunteers to put to work.”

“Spoken by a repeat offender?”

Bart shrugged without commitment, but the impish grin said it all. “So, you’re not from here... Let me guess... East Coast? Maybe New York?”

“Does my accent give me away?”

“A little.” He made a pinching gesture with his fingers. “But it’s cute. I love girls with accents.”

I laughed, shaking my head. Bart was definitely flirting, but when I realized that my first thought was I wished Luca could see a cute guy flirting with me, I knew I was officially a terrible person. “I’m here with my fiancé,” I said, letting Bart down gently. “He got lucky. Sister Mary sent him to the serving hall.”

“Fiancé?” He groaned, covering his heart as if shot. “Just my luck. All right, whoever he is, he’s one lucky bastard.”

Divulging the odd truth of my relationship with Luca would only serve to create more questions I couldn’t answer, so I just smiled and nodded in thanks.

“Let me see your hands,” Bart said. When I simply stared quizzically, he laughed and repeated his request, adding, “I promise it’s nothing weird.” More curious than anything else, I removed my rubber gloves. Bart grasped my hands and turned them this way and that, finally revealing his reason. “Sister Bernice always puts the people with the softest hands in the kitchen, and the ones she thinks need the most humbling, she puts on dishes.”

My mouth gaped. “Me? Why would I need humbling? It was my idea to volunteer.”

“Let me tell you, Sister Bernice has the eyes of a hawk. She can see what others can’t.”

The heat crept into my cheeks. I’d been judged? How was it possible that I’d failed the test while Luca had passed with flying colors? I rolled my shoulders to release the gathering tension. “Well, I can guarantee Luca’s hands are softer than mine,” I groused, but I knew that probably wasn’t true. Luca loved being active, and he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.

“New college grad?” Bart surmised with a knowing grin. Not as new as he thought, but a close guess. “You have that highly educated but ultimately useless look about you.” My pride pinched, I scowled in response, but Bart just laughed. “Hey, not judging, cutie, just making an observation. My older brother has that same look, and I have no doubt as soon as I graduate in the spring I’ll have that look, too. I think it comes with the degree. After this last shenanigan, my dad put his foot down, saying, It’s time to get serious, son,” he said, in a mockingly parental tone. “But, I don’t know, nothing really grabs me.”

“Actually, I had a job with a high-powered marketing firm, Franklin and Dodd, but I quit to come to California. I’m thinking of a career change.”

“Brave,” Bart said. “Your fiancé cool with that?”

“It’s not his decision, it’s mine, but...yeah, I think he’s okay with it.” Luca didn’t care where I worked. He just wanted me to marry him. The quiet truth hit me hard. This trip hadn’t exactly turned out as I’d expected. It was a sobering thing to realize that the soapbox you were perched on was quickly breaking down. I’d spent a long time believing that I was unequivocally right about certain things, but Luca had me questioning what I thought I knew.

Bart and I were fairly close in age, but unlike him, I didn’t suffer from a lack of ambition or drive. If anything, I had more than I could possibly put to good use, which was why the thought of becoming a society matron scraped at my last nerve. I didn’t want to be a useless piece of arm candy.

“That your man coming toward us with a look like he wants to beat me with my own arm?” Bart asked with fake fright. “Jesus, he’s tall.”

I hid the smile that immediately bloomed. Yes, Luca was delightfully tall and broad shouldered. And he did, indeed, look as if he might want to thrash Bart for flirting with me. A warm tickle danced in my belly. There was something undeniably sexy about the way Luca looked at me. Sometimes when his blue eyes fixed on mine, I felt as if he could see straight to my soul.

I smothered the wistful sigh that threatened.

None of that.

?

?I came to ask if you’d like to sign on for another four-hour shift or if you’d like to go,” Luca said, shooting a cool look Bart’s way.

Bart thrust his hand toward Luca. “Bart’s the name, and you, big guy, are one lucky son of a bitch for locking down this hottie.”

My cheeks heated, but I laughed. To my surprise, Luca’s tension released and he accepted the hand offered. “Pleasure, Bart. And yes—” his gaze flitted to me with warmth “—I’m a lucky man.”

Bart grinned and said, “Well, I’ve still got another four hours on my tab, so I’d better find Sister Mean Eyes and get my assignment. I’d say you two did your good deed for the day—go find something more interesting to do. I know what I’d be doing if she was my girl...” He sauntered off with a wink.

My amused smile caused Luca to pull me into his arms, circling my waist possessively before I could stop him. “I can’t leave you alone for a second,” he murmured with a low growl, sending shivers down my back. His lips nibbled at the soft skin of my neck, and my knees threatened to buckle. “Stay or go?” he asked.

“Go,” I answered breathlessly.

Luca pulled away, his lips twitching with knowing, but I didn’t care. I didn’t want to wash dishes anymore, and at the moment I didn’t care to examine my reasoning with a magnifying glass.

“Good.” Luca grabbed my hand and led me from the hot, stifling kitchen to sign us out with Sister Mary. “You do good work here,” he told the nun as he handed her a business card. “Call my office on Monday for a proper donation.”

“Bless you, Mr. Donato,” Sister Mary said. “Thank you for your service and donation.”

Luca dipped his head in acknowledgment and we left the shelter, only this time Luca had called for the town car.

As I settled into the plush back seat, a question nagged at me.

Was I fighting out of spite, or was this a battle truly worth fighting?