Dante

Chapter 6

I sent Vivian the information she needed for her move at

precisely noon on Sunday. Not out of fear she'd cause a

scene in front of my building, but out of reluctant admiration

for the stunt she'd pulled at my exhibition.

It turned out the delicate little rose had some steel in her spine

after all.

The following weekend, Vivian showed up at my house again,

this time with an army of movers in tow.

Greta, my housekeeper, and Edward, my butler, took charge of

guiding the movers through the apartment while I led Vivian to her

room.

Neither of us spoke, and the silence expanded with each step

until it became a living, breathing entity between us.

Annoyance wormed its way into my chest.

Vivian had been perfectly friendly to Greta, Edward, and the

rest of my staff, whom she'd greeted with warm smiles and fucking

cookies from Levain. But when she got to me, she'd shut down

like I was the one moving into her house and disrupting her

carefully planned life.

Like I was the one who'd showed up uninvited at her party

wearing an outfit that could send a man to his fucking knees.

A week later, the image of that black dress clinging to her

curves was still ingrained in my mind, as was the fire in her eyes

when she'd laid into me.

There was none of that fire now. Vivian was the picture of cool

elegance walking next to me, and it pissed me off for no

explicable reason.

Or maybe my ire had something to do with the fact that, even

in a casual blouse and skirt, her presence awoke an unwanted

heat in my gut. My body had never reacted so viscerally to anyone

before, and I didn't even fucking like her.

We stopped in front of a carved wood door.

"This is your room." I'd set her up in the farthest suite from

mine, and it was still too close. "Greta will unpack for you later."

My voice sounded abnormally loud after the oppressive quiet.

One of her brows rose. "Separate rooms until marriage. I didn't

realize you were such a traditionalist."

"I didn't realize you were so eager to share a bed with me."

A small smirk curved my mouth when Vivian's cheeks pinked.

It was her first loss of composure all morning.

"I didn't say I wanted to share a bed with you," she said coolly.

"I simply pointed out the outdatedness of your thinking. Sleeping

in separate rooms is for married couples who are fighting, not

newly engaged couples who are supposed to be in love. Word will

get out. People will talk."

"It won't, and they won't." My household staff had been with

me for years and prided themselves on their discretion. "If they do,

I'll take care of it. But since we're on the subject of public image,

we should establish the boundaries of our relationship."

"Ah, communication. I do believe you're finally graduating from

the Neanderthal stage of your life."

I ignored her wry insult and continued, "In public, we'll play the

part of a loving couple. We'll attend events together, smile for the

cameras, and pretend we like each other. You'll also have full access to the Russo Group portfolio of brands. If you want

anything from any of our collections, call my assistant Helena and

she'll take care of it. On your nightstand, you'll find her number, a

black Amex, and your engagement ring. Wear it."

The engagement announcement ran that morning. Vivian and I

were officially tied together, which meant my reputation was also

at stake.

I didn't care whether people personally liked me, but public

perception was important in my line of work. Obvious discord

would raise too many questions, and the last thing I needed were

nosy society columnists sniffing around.

"A ring on my bedside table. How romantic." Vivian touched

the sapphire bracelet on her wrist. "You truly know how to make a

woman feel special."

"I'm not here to make you feel special." I dipped my head

toward hers. The sweet, slightly tart scent of apples stole into my

lungs as I enunciated my next words with crisp precision. "I'm

here because I made a deal with your father."

Vivian didn't back away, but surprise and a hint of uncertainty

surfaced in her eyes when I ran a leisurely knuckle over the gold

chain around her neck.

Even at this close a distance, her skin was flawless, like cream

poured over silk. Long dark lashes framed deep brown eyes, and

a tiny beauty mark, so small one would have to be as close as I

was to see it, dotted the area above her lush lips.

My eyes dipped to her mouth. The heat from my gut spread to

my stomach.

She wore the same lipstick from the exhibition. Bold, red, and

seductive, like a siren's call amidst a sea of tranquil calm.

I wanted to rub my thumb across her bottom lip and smear her

perfect lipstick until she was nothing more than a beautiful mess.

To peel back the composed mask and see the ugliness underneath.

Vivian may be wrapped in a pretty package, but a Lau was a

Lau. They were all cut from the same mold.

"Don't expect dinner dates or sweet nothings at home, mia

cara," I said, my words as soft and lazy as my touch. "You won't

get either."

Instead of touching her mouth, I skimmed the back of my hand

across her collarbone, over the curve of her shoulder, and down

her arm until it reached the frantic beat at her wrist.

"Get rid of any romantic notions you may have of us falling in

love and living happily ever after. It won't happen." I pressed a

thumb against her pulse, hard, and smiled when she jerked at the

sudden, rough movement. "This is a business arrangement.

Nothing more. Are we clear?"

Vivian pressed her lips into a stubborn line.

The air was alive with the crackle of electricity and animosity. It

sizzled against my skin, drawing my muscles tight and fanning the

strange, hungry fire in my stomach.

When she remained mutinously silent, I reached up and closed

my hand around her throat. Lightly, just enough to feel the

shallowness of her breaths.

My voice dropped to a dangerous warning. "Are. We. Clear?"

Vivian's eyes flashed. "Crystal." The promise of retribution

lurked beneath her even reply.

"Good." I released her and stepped back with a mocking smile.

"Welcome home, sweetheart."

I left without waiting for a response.

The warmth of Vivian's skin lingered on my palm until I closed

my hand around my lighter and let the cold metal chase away the

remnants of her touch.

"Don't start," I said when I passed a frowning Greta. She was

dusting in the sitting room, close enough to hear at least part of

my conversation with Vivian.

The movers must've already left.

"You were too harsh," she admonished, confirming my earlier

suspicion.

Greta was over seventy, but her hearing gave bats a run for

their money.

"Not harsh. Honest." I checked my watch. I had a lunch

meeting with a visiting CEO in two hours, and I needed to prep

before I left. "Would you rather I lead her on? Indulge her

childhood fantasies about Prince Charming coming in and

sweeping her off her feet?"

"How do you know she has those fantasies?" Greta swept her

duster over the fireplace mantel with more force than necessary.

"She seems like the practical sort."

"You met her half an hour ago."

I couldn't believe I was arguing with my housekeeper over my

fiancée. It must be those goddamned cookies Vivian bribed her

with. Greta had a sweet tooth and a special fondness for

chocolate chip.

"I have good instincts when it comes to people. Otherwise…"

Another aggressive sweep over the mantel. "I would've written

you off as an overbearing clone of your grandfather years ago."

My face shut down.

"Remember who you work for," I warned, my tone dark.

"Non osare farmi una ramanzina quando sono stata io ha

pulirti il culo da piccolo." Don't lecture someone who changed your

diapers. "If you want to fire me, fire me. But I know there's a heart

in there somewhere, ragazzo mio. Use it and treat your future wife

with respect."

"I gave her a black Amex and a diamond ring." Every woman

would kill for those things, and they were more than Vivian

deserved, considering who her father was.

Greta stared at me for a full minute before she shook her head

and muttered furiously in Italian under her breath. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I imagined it was none too

complimentary.

I stopped next to Greta and placed a hand on the duster,

forcing her to still.

"You're a valued member of my household, but there are only

so many liberties I'll allow," I said coolly. "If you'd like a vacation to

clear your head, let me know and it can be arranged."

The threat hung in the air as an offer.

Her eyes narrowed. "No vacation needed."

"Good."

Greta had worked for my family since I was a baby. She'd

helped raise me and Luca since my parents were shit at the job,

and she'd run my grandfather's household until I convinced her to

work for me four years ago. Instead of being upset, my

grandfather had gifted me a bottle of ten-thousand-dollar wine for

successfully undercutting him.

While I had a soft spot for Greta and considered her the

grandmother I never had—both of my biological grandmothers

died before I was born—I would not tolerate blatant disrespect.

If she were anyone else, I would've fired and blacklisted her

the second the word harsh left her mouth.

A polite cough pulled my attention toward the doorway where

Edward stood with a neutral expression.

"Sir, the movers have officially vacated the premises," he said.

"Would you like me to give Ms. Lau the full tour?"

I'd taken Vivian directly to her room without showing her the

rest of the house. Hell, she'd already seen half of it at last week's

exhibition.

"Please do." She should know the apartment's full layout. I

didn't want her accidentally wandering into my room or office.

He inclined his head and disappeared down the hall. Greta

marched past me and disappeared into another corner of the penthouse without a word, but her disapproval lingered like the

scent of her favorite lemon-scented cleaner.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

Less than an hour after moving in, Vivian was already causing

chaos.

Discord with my staff was only the start.

She would move things around. Disrupt the environment I'd

carefully cultivated. I would come home not knowing what to see

or expect.

Aggravation rose in my chest.

I stalked out of the living room and into my office, where I

attempted to review the materials for my meeting.

But even though I'd closed the door and was sequestered on

the opposite side of the house from Vivian's room, I still smelled

the faint, maddening scent of apples.