My Dark Romeo: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance(29)

“Relax, darling. I trust you.” I advanced to the beverage cart, pouring myself a few fingers of whisky from the decanter, knowing he wouldn’t approve. “So far, you haven’t done me wrong.”

If sarcasm were poison, he’d be dead five times over by now.

“Day drinking.” He pursed his lips. “Dare I ask if this is a habit of yours?”

I could count on one hand the number of times I’d drunk in my life, having grown up under such strict religious rules.

But he didn’t need to know that.

I sighed, swirling the drink. “Lighten up. Could be worse. I could be a coke addict.” I took a sip. “Unfortunately, coke smells like nothing. Can you believe it? That was five hundred bucks I’m never getting back. Hopefully, I’ll have more luck with crack.”

Jasper hacked out coughs. Travis patted him on the back, looking at anything but me.

Judging by Romeo’s dispassionate glare, I knew he’d begun to truly regret his decision to marry me, just as I knew it was too late for us to back out of the arrangement now.

“Clothe yourself.” His eyes catalogued every stain I’d acquired in Potomac. “You look like a dumpster diver.”

“Clothes?” I frowned, playing dumb. “But, baby, I have no clothes. Remember we had to rush to the airport so we could be together? I didn’t have time to pack.”

“The credit card I gave you wasn’t ornamental.”

“It wasn’t?” I shrieked, widening my eyes. “But it looks so pretty on the kitchen table. Anywho, I was too busy pining over you to use it.”

The two lawyers glanced between us in confusion.

Jasper readjusted his briefcase. “Would you like a few moments?”

“Yes,” Romeo barked out at the same time I raised the drink in the air, announcing, “Moments? I would love a whole lifetime alone with this dreamboat.”

Jasper and Travis fled, tossing awkward looks at one another.

With just me and Romeo in the confined space, I felt smaller.

Not as brave. Nonetheless,

I stepped forward, coming toe to toe with him. The sooner he realized I’d make his life hell on Earth, the sooner he’d let me go.

“Where were you, baby?” I tacked on a thick, deep-fried Georgian accent I knew would drive him mad, lifting my hand to drag the damp glass across his cheek. “I wanted us to go over wedding brochures. I’m thinking peonies for flowers. Glitter-themed. You’d look real good in a sequin suit. Summer in Portofini. To honor your Italian heritage, you know.”

“Portofino.” He grabbed the whisky from my hand, gliding it between my breasts. Delicious shivers broke over my skin. “The ceremony will take place at the end of the month in von Bismarck’s backyard, and the guest list is already locked, curated by both our families.” His cutting, harsh words made me dizzy. There was a date. And a place. “You can have your peonies—and your sequins. If you think a bad suit will veer me off track from my plan, you haven’t been paying attention.”

He tipped the glass down, letting a few drops of whisky run between my breasts, slide down my stomach, and disappear into my underwear through my gown.

It was erotic, maddening, and infuriating all at once.

I breathed harder just so the tips of my nipples brushed against his chest each time I exhaled.

“Can’t wait,” I choked out.

“Good. Here’s another event to fawn over. You’re coming to my parents’ shortly after we sign the prenup, where you will be on your best behavior, which, for you, possibly means using utensils and refraining from sniffing people’s behinds as a way of hello.”

I stared at him with all the hatred in the world, shaking with rage. His complete indifference undid me. He was the coldest, meanest man I’d ever met.

His eyes snapped from my face to my nightgown. My chest heaved. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and my nipples pearled, erect from the adrenaline rush.

“You can’t help yourself, can you?” A sadistic glimmer flickered through his pale eyes. “Such a basic creature.”

Through the satin fabric, he ran the frosty rim of the tumbler over the tight bud, raising his phone to his ear with his free hand.

I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t even breathe.

The sensation was so intense and incredible, my whole body turned to clay. With this simple touch, it felt like he owned every inch of me.

Heat swirled below my belly button. My breasts felt heavy, full, and sensitive, begging to be cupped and played with.

“Cara?” Romeo drew a lazy circle around my nipple with the glass.

I resisted the urge to plaster myself against him. To beg for more.

For the millionth time, I cursed my father for my sheltered upbringing. If only I’d been less innocent about these things, Romeo wouldn’t have such a strong grip on me.

“Head over to Tyson’s Galleria and get me every single item for women from Yves Salomon, Celine, Burberry, and Brunello Cucinelli’s latest season. Size small.”

He set down the whisky, reaching for me.

His entire hot palm covered my right breast. “Bra size: 32B.”

Spot on. Dang it.

Grabbing my hip bone, he spun me so my back faced him. I felt his eyes on my ass.

His hand slipped beneath the material of my robe from behind, stroking my bare chest. “Pants size: four.”