Chapter 32
He popped the cork cleanly, poured two glasses. He handed one to her, then lifted his own and drained it, setting the empty glass down with a careless clink.
Reinee took hers in small, careful sips, watching him over the rim. “I can’t believe I’m here,” she said, shaking her head slightly. “Standing with you. I honestly thought you weren’t going to call p>
“You doubted me p>
She smiled, embarrassed and pleased all at once. “A little. Men like you don’t usually remember names p>
She took a step closer. “And tonight, I matter p>
“Tonight,” he said, “you’re exactly where you wanted to be p>
She stepped into his space, fingers brushing his chest. “I’ve wanted this, you have no idea how much p>
He smiled down at her, the Devil everyone knew. The man women whispered about and men feared. He slid a finger beneath her chin, lifting her face just enough to meet his eyes.
“Oh, I know,” he said.
And that was the truth.
What she didn’t know was that tonight wasn’t about her desire at all. She was a mirror. A message. A performance.
Luca glanced briefly toward the hidden cameras temporarily embedded in the dark corner of the suite, invisible unless you knew where to look.
“You are absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous,” he said, eyes moving over Reinee. His gaze was appraising.
Reinee laughed softly, tilting her head. “We live on the same street. There’s no way you haven’t seen me at least once before. I know I’ve seen you. A couple of times p>
Luca smiled. “Then it’s a tragedy,” he said smoothly, “that I never noticed you before p>
His phone vibrated in his pocket.
He slid the device out, glanced at the screen. Confirmation received. The viewing room was occupied.
Good.
“Don’t tell me you have to go,” Reinee said quickly, the smallest edge of insecurity slipping into her tone.
“No way,” Luca replied, slipping the phone away. “Even if the sky is falling p>
He crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, sprawling. He leaned back on his palms, eyes never leaving her.
“Why don’t you model that underwear for me, gorgeous p>
Reinee smiled, pleased, flattered, validated. She reached for the jacket, letting it slide from her shoulders and fall to the floor in a soft whisper.
The lingerie beneath was intricate. Silk straps crossing skin. Expensive. Provocative.
Identical.
When Veronica was ushered into the viewing room, she knew immediately that this was off.
The room itself was dark. Plush seating. Soft lighting. One wall carried a big screen.
She had dressed exactly as instructed. Let the maid fuss over her hair, her makeup, her posture. Let herself be molded.
And then the screen brightened.
Miss Porsche. Miss CEO. Miss woman Luca had flirted with on the street.
Veronica’s eyes widened when she saw the lingerie.
The same silk bindings.
The same cruelly elegant design.
Of course.
Of course this was the point.
On the screen, Luca looked relaxed. In control. He hadn’t touched Reinee yet.
The realization that she had never been meant to be special stung.
Her eyes betrayed her.
She watched Luca’s face more than Reinee’s body. Watched the way his smile never quite reached his eyes. Watched the way his attention flicked, briefly, toward the hidden camera.
Toward her.
“Oh,” she whispered. “You bastard p>
It was about dominance.
About showing her how replaceable she was. How easily he could summon another woman. How little her resistance mattered in his world.
If he was trying to break her, he was failing.
Veronica leaned back in her chair, eyes locked on the screen, lips pressing into a thin line.
Fine.
If he wanted to put on a show, she would watch.
And she would remember every second.
Ten minutes in, and Veronica was done pretending she was unaffected.
Was this supposed to make her jealous? Of what, exactly. Of the fact that Luca Genovese could snap his fingers and summon women? That wasn’t news. Power attracted devotion the way heat attracted moths. She understood the math.
And yet.
Her eyes betrayed her, drifting back to the screen. Anger rose in her chest, refusing to be reasoned with.
On the screen, Miss Porsche laughed softly and settled onto Luca’s lap. Luca’s hand rested at her waist, confident, possessive.
Veronica’s jaw clenched.
Then Luca looked up.
At the camera.
At her.
“Oh, you asshole,” Veronica muttered, pushing herself to her feet. She crossed the room and banged on the door with the flat of her palm. “Let me out of here! I’m not your damn toy p>
Silence answered her.
Behind her, the room filled with sound. Soft laughter. Breath catching. Murmured words she didn’t need to hear clearly to understand. The intimate rhythm of two people very comfortable with each other’s closeness.
She turned just in time to see Luca’s hand move between her legs, the way Miss Porsche’s body reacted instantly, the way she clutched at his shoulders. Luca’s expression never changed. Still calm. Still in control. Still devastatingly aware of the lens.
Still watching her.
“Enough,” Veronica whispered.
She slid down the wall, folding to the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing the heels of her palms against them.
It didn’t help.
The sound was everywhere. It seeped into her skin, crawled along her nerves. She could hear the smile in Luca’s voice even when he wasn’t speaking. She could hear the satisfaction. He wanted her to hear it. Wanted her to feel small, replaceable, foolish for thinking she mattered.
Her throat burned.
Stupid, she scolded herself. This was the world he lived in. She’d walked into it willingly, thinking stubbornness could shield her. Thinking love for her sister could armor her heart.
Anger braided with humiliation.
Because somewhere beneath the fury and the hurt was the unbearable knowledge that he wanted her reaction more than he wanted the woman in his arms.
Veronica drew her knees to her chest and rocked slightly, breathing through the storm. She would not cry. She refused to give him that too. She would endure this. For Valentina. For herself.