“Does he work for the company?” I ventured when he didn’t offer any more information.
I didn’t want to push Dante too hard and have him shut down when we were finally making progress, but I couldn’t contain my curiosity. I didn’t know much about him beyond what was public knowledge.
He came from a very old, very wealthy family that made its fortune in textiles before his grandfather founded the Russo Group and expanded the family empire into what it was today. He’d graduated top of his class from Harvard Business School and increased his company’s market value fivefold since taking over as CEO. He eliminated his competition with shocking effectiveness, either by crushing or acquiring them, and the ruthlessness of his security team had catapulted him to mythical status.
I may have read up on Dante while he was in Europe.
“He does now.” Dante’s tone suggested the change had not been Luca’s choice. “He interned at the company in college. It was a disaster, so our grandfather allowed him to ‘pursue his passions’ instead of taking on a corporate role. He already had me as an heir; he didn’t need Luca. But giving my brother too much freedom was a mistake. Luca bounced around from job to job for a decade. He was a DJ one day, an actor the next. He sank half his trust fund into a nightclub that folded within eight months of opening. He needs stability and structure, not more time and money to burn.”
It was the most words I’d heard come out of Dante’s mouth since we met.
“So you gave him a job,” I surmised. “What does he do now?”
“Salesman.” The corner of Dante’s mouth kicked up when I gave him a skeptical look. “He doesn’t get special treatment because he’s my brother. When I started at the Russo Group, I worked as a stock clerk. It was one of the greatest lessons my grandfather taught me. In order to lead a company, you have to know the company. Every facet, every position, every detail. Leaders who are out of touch are leaders who fail.”
Somehow, Dante managed to surprise me every time we talked.
I’d expected him to run his company from the top down with no care for his employees and blatant abuse of nepotism the way many of his peers did, but his philosophy made sense.
Since I couldn’t say that without offending him, I stuck to the topic of his brother.
“I get the sense Luca doesn’t like me,” I admitted. “Every time I tried to talk to him at the party, he made an excuse and left.”
Dante paused. Tension dampened the air for a second before his shoulders relaxed and the clouds disappeared.
“Don’t take it personally. He gets moody at those types of things.” He smoothly switched subjects. “Speaking of the party, you never told me who’s on your dream husband list.”
Oh, for God’s sake.
I’d mentioned the list as a joke. I didn’t know why he was so fixated on it. But since he was…I might as well have some fun.
“I’ll tell you if you promise not to get an inferiority complex,” I said sweetly. I ticked off the names of my favorite celebrities. “Nate Reynolds, Asher Donovan, Rafael Pessoa…”
Dante looked unimpressed. “I didn’t realize you were such a big soccer fan.”
Asher Donovan and Rafael Pessoa both played for Holchester United in the UK.
“I’m a soccer player fan,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
I’d watched a total of three sports games in my life. I’d only mentioned Asher and Rafael because I saw them in an ad campaign yesterday and they were fresh on my mind.
“Reynolds is married, and Donovan and Pessoa live in Europe,” Dante said silkily. “I’m afraid you’re out of luck, mia cara.”
“True.” I heaved a long-suffering sigh. “In that case, I guess you’ll have to do.”
A laugh bubbled in my throat when he narrowed his eyes. “You’re baiting me.”
“Just a little.”
My laugh finally spilled out at his scowl. I could practically see the bruises forming on his ego.
I didn’t have any romantic notions about him being interested in the list because he liked me. He probably hated the idea of not being number one on anyone’s list.
We didn’t talk much after that, but the silence between us was less jagged than those from the early days of our engagement.
I snuck a glance at Dante as he methodically spread a layer of pudding on the last chip, his brow wrinkled in concentration. It was strangely adorable.
I almost laughed again when I pictured how he’d react if he found out anyone described him as adorable.
I hid my smile as I swirled my spoon through my melting ice cream.
I was suddenly glad I couldn’t sleep earlier.
CHAPTER 12
Vivian
“Maybe you guys will finally fuck tonight.” Isabella’s voice crackled through my phone, which I’d propped against the wall so I could see her while I got ready. “It’s not a truce without an orgasm to close the deal.”
“Isa.”
“What? It’s true. You deserve some fun after working your butt off these past few weeks.” Her keyboard clicks paused, and a distracted expression crossed her face. “Speaking of fun, what do you think my character’s signature murder method should be? Poison, strangulation, or good ol’ hacking with a butcher’s knife?”
“Poison.” It was the only one that didn’t turn my stomach when I pictured it.
“Hacking it is. Thanks, Viv. You’re the best.”
I sighed.
Isabella sat in her room, her pet snake Monty draped over her shoulders while she typed furiously on her laptop. Behind her, a mountain of clothes covered her bed and half-obscured the oil portrait of Monty that Sloane and I had commissioned as a joke for her birthday last year.
Most writers preferred silence and solitude, but Isabella worked best surrounded by chaos. She said growing up with four older brothers had conditioned her to thrive in mayhem.
“Anyway,” she said after several minutes of hacking her poor characters to pieces on the page. “Back to the topic at hand. You need to take the sex for a test drive before you commit. You don’t want to be stuck with someone bad in bed. Not that I think Dante would have that problem,” she added. “I bet he fucks like—”
“Stop.” I held up a hand. “We are not discussing my fiancé’s sexual prowess over the phone. Or ever.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. You haven’t had sex yet.” Isabella’s cheeks dimpled while Monty forked his tongue as if in agreement. “You’ll have to do it eventually. If not before the wedding, then on the wedding night and honeymoon…unless you both plan on being celibate for the rest of your lives.” She wrinkled her nose.
I put on my earrings in silence, but a flutter of nerves cascaded through my stomach.
She made a good point. I’d been so focused on planning the actual wedding I hadn’t given much thought to what would happen after.
The marriage bed. The honeymoon. The heat of Dante’s naked torso against mine and his mouth—
My throat dried, and I banished the X-rated mental image to the darkest recesses of my mind before it took root.