(9) Vile

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Lucas and Matteo Deniro has shaken their hands on the wedding. He could hardly tell that the man was dying, but as they held an hour of conversation, he's seen his unhealthy pallor. His cheeks had hollows in them and his brown eyes were sunken and exhausted.

They were taking protective measures up until the wedding. Matteo knew the impending retaliation if word got out, so he agreed to schedule the wedding next week.

As they left his office, both their men in tow, ready to pull their guns and fire if one even tries to flick a betraying finger.

Matteo led him to the maze of corridors, stopping at a door with two bodyguards. The other was young and the other was in his 50's but judging by his vigilant posture, age only made him a tougher enemy. A

"This is Allen. He's been a bodyguard of my daughter since she was a baby."

The loyal bodyguard.

Lucas nodded his acknowledgement.

"Open the door," Matteo murmurs, swiping a sweaty palm across his pale face.

The bodyguard keyed the knob open. Matteo ushered him in.

He finds Sophie on the couch by the balcony, a little boy on her lap as she read him a book.

She looked different under her own territory. Her long hair was braided, the stubborn tendrils still sticking out. She had a lively color to her cheeks and she had sparkles to her blue eyes when she smiled to her little brother.

Her earrings gleamed when they caught light, the matching necklace hanging on her slender neck. She could make any jewelry beautiful.

Sophia closed the book when she sensed them. They stood up, her hand in his.

"Gabriel, your sister needs to talk to her future husband." Matteo held out his hand to his son.

The little boy look up to his sister, seeking answer.

Sophia nodded and smiled. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

Gabriel stalks toward his father, taking his hand. They march toward the door but not without giving him the stink-eye. When they made it to the door, he stick his tongue out.

He stifled a smile.

The door clicked close and they were alone. He took his time drinking her in. She changed into a gray dress that has lacy sleeves capturing her shoulders down to her elbows. "I apologize. Gabby doesn't mean to be rude."

"He's protective of you."

She licked her lips nervously. "Please, don't tell my father. He'll spend three days locked up."

Lucas nods, taking a look around of her enormous bedroom. There were more books than walls. His eyes caught the reading window with grills on it. And then they settled on a breathtaking painting of her. She was in a sweetheart cut gown, her lips stretched into a gorgeous smile.

"Last year. Eighteenth birthday," Sophie spoke, intervening his thoughts. "No one was allowed to come so I celebrated it with the maids. He made a friend paint my portrait to cheer me up."

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

Her lips curled. "I know. I thought so too when I saw the painting."

His brow lifted an inch. "I wasn't talking about the painting."

A blush dusted her cheeks. "Oh."

He tamp down his amusement. He likes it when she's acting all tough. But blushing and being suddenly so shy? He likes it even more.

"Our engagement is in three days." He shoved a hand to his pocket. "Wedding's next week." His gaze caught the picture frame on her nightstand. It was of her when she was little and a woman that looked exactly like her. There was no doubt it was her mother.

"Okay." She threaded her fingers together. "Will you take me with you after the wedding?"

"Of course."

"If you take me, will you take Gabby with us?" Her voice sounded so hopeful.

He turns to her and walked the distance between them. "Freedom for you and your brother. That's the deal." He shrugged. "In the meantime, you need to wear this." His hand slipped into his suit jacket and retrieve a black box. He held it open and pluck the ring.

Sophia swallows and offered her hand.

He slipped the ring on her finger, watching her face closely.

She blinks and stares at the sweetheart cut diamond ring. "At least it doesn't make me want to puke like last time."

"Good to know," he says, not bothering to hide his amusement.

She smiles. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You will have guards with you at all times. Two in your balcony. Two inside here with you and three at your door."

"I have guards inside here with me?" Her eyes rounded. "What if I need to get changed? They can openly stare while I get dressed?"

Something stirred in his gut. "They will switch with the maids."

"Okay." She nods, toying with the ring. She steps closer, rolling to her tiptoes. Her lips brushed over his and then she was back on the heels of her feet.

The contact was brief and inexperienced. He was too taken aback to register that she just kissed him. Mistaking his silence with something else, she blushed profusely.

"I'm sorry. I haven't kissed a man before. I just figured it was the better way to seal the deal than having to drink whiskey. I can't swallow another sip."

"It's okay. We just can't risk offending your father." He gestured at the door.

She stares at it. "No one saw that we already kissed." She looked up with a wide blue gaze. "Didn't you wanna kiss me?"

Fuckkkk.

"Don't ask questions like that," he says through gritted teeth.

Sophie's eyes dropped to his mouth, shuffling her feet forward until their toes touched. "So, you didn't want to?"

He curses, losing his grip on self-control. His hand went around the back of her neck as he bent, stamping his mouth to hers, kissing her thoroughly.

His lips moved over hers, claiming and owning. He relished the feel of her against his mouth – so soft and so fucking sweet. He wanted all of her, appropriateness be damned.

Lucas nipped at her bottom lip.

She gasped.

He slipped his tongue inside, ravaging her mouth, tasting every corners of hers. He wanted them all engraved in his mind for when he has to let her go and rely only on memory.

He pulls back, pressing another soft caress on her mouth. There's no way he can ever get enough of her. He tried to make himself believe he could though.

"Don't try to tempt me again. Next time I might not be able to stop."

Sophia stares, dazed. 

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