RUTHLESS KING

20 THE HEART BALL

Stella
A maddening bout of butterflies lash their wings across my insides as I stare
at my reflection in the mirror. Magda zips up the deep emerald gown with
the plunging neckline, and I barely recognize the woman in front of me.
Soft, dark curls cascade down my shoulders resting along the silky fabric of
the gown. Dramatic eyeliner and smoky shadows make my blue eyes pop
against light caramel skin. Not only is Luca’s housekeeper a whiz in the
kitchen, but she is also an absolute miracle worker with hair and makeup.
Though the bruises from my run-in with the robber have begun to fade, her
expert strokes made them completely disappear.
I feel like I just stepped out of the cover of W Magazine.
Her pale gray eyes catch mine through the mirror. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks to you,” I offer. The girl has been a godsend over the past
week. Though she claims Luca has spent much more time at the penthouse
since my arrival, business meetings keep him away most of the day. Despite
studying for final exams, which Luca somehow convinced my professors to
allow me to take virtually at the end of the semester, most days I was pretty damned lonely. If it wasn’t for Magda, I would’ve gone insane. I begged
Luca for my phone back, but every day I got the same answer. Not yet.
I missed my best friend, Rose, and wanted more than anything to talk to
her.
I’d been here for over a week now, and I hadn’t tried to escape again.
Honestly, I didn’t have anywhere to go. Not until I graduated with my
crappy associate degree. With any luck, I’d survive the month with Luca,
and then I’d get the hell out of here. I could finally put all of this behind me.
A pang of something I refuse to accept niggles at my chest.
“Can I help you with anything else?” Magda’s question derails my
spiraling thoughts, and I take one last quick look in the mirror.
“Nope. This is as good as I get.”
She smiles. “Signor Valentino will be very happy when he sees you.”
I snort on a laugh. “Like I care what he thinks.”
A hint of amusement curls the corners of her lips, but I don’t dare ask
what’s so funny. I’m too scared of the answer. I march into the bedroom and
slip on the uber-expensive designer stilettos. The rhinestone-encrusted, gold
Jimmy Choos cost more than my first car. I teeter on the high heels before I
get my balance and send a quick prayer to the Virgin Mary to keep me from
busting my ass tonight. Not only could I break an ankle, but I’d also likely
rip the slit up the back of the tight dress and give everyone a front row view
of my lacey thong and bare cheeks. These designer gowns are not made for
curvy Italian women with an irrational penchant for cannoli.
A quick knock at the door has my heart launching itself at my ribs. “The
limo will be here in five minutes, Stella.” Luca’s voice sends another wave
of mad flutters through my gut. He’s been giving me the countdown every
five minutes for the past half hour.
“Be right out,” I shout. Grabbing my new gold Gucci clutch, I throw my
lip gloss and inhaler in and wrap my fingers around the soft leather. You can do this, Stella. One night out on the town with the mob boss. What could go
wrong?
Magda stands by the door, holding it open. I’m paralyzed by the bed,
unable to force my feet to move. “Go, Stella. Signor Luca is waiting.”
Right. Just walk, cazzo. You’ve been doing it for nearly twenty-one
years. Inhaling a lungful of air, I steady my nerves and place one stiletto in
front of the other. Magda offers a nod of encouragement as I cross the
threshold into the hallway.
A sharp hiss lifts my gaze to a pair of piercing, bottomless irises. Our
eyes lock, and my heart trips on a beat. That one look is more invasive,
more lethal than any man’s touch. It should be illegal. I force my spine to
straighten to keep from trembling. Luca in normal clothes is gorgeous, but
in a tux, he’s devastating. The fine fabric molds to his broad shoulders,
tapering down to narrow hips and powerful thighs. I already know what lies
beneath the expensive threads, the body of a god. My heart races, heat
pooling below my bellybutton, and he’s all the way down the hall. If he
simply touches me, I’ll explode.
“Sei bellissima,” he finally murmurs, and his legs propel him closer.
I move too, my feet thrusting me forward of their own accord. Like the
earth and moon, we’re helplessly drawn to each other. On a deadly collision
course. I’m not sure how I know he feels the same compulsion, but I do. It’s
written across his face, in the tense set of his coiled muscles.
I stop mere inches from him, his warm breath ghosting over my lips.
His typically scruffy jaw is shaved clean, and I stare at his smooth skin to
focus on something, anything, instead of the riot of emotions pummeling
my insides. His chest rises and falls quickly, the emerald pocket square that
matches my dress bouncing up and down in an erratic rhythm.
“I—” His eyes bore into me, devouring me whole. And for an instant,
that’s all I want, to drown in Luca Valentino. “The limo is here, signore.” Magda’s voice breaks the spell, and he
releases me from that unrelenting gaze.
The look of wonder, of awe, disappears replaced by the cool mask of the
C.E.O. and mob boss. He clears his throat and offers me his arm. “Come,
we don’t want to keep Mickey waiting. We already know he doesn’t like
you.”
His quip dispels the thickness in the air, and I release the breath
immobilizing my lungs. “I’m not overly fond of him either.”
He smirks and leads me toward the elevator. As we enter, it dawns on
me that this is the first time I’ve left the penthouse since my disastrous
shopping trip right after my arrival. Luca must realize it too because he
corners me against the cold metal wall and levels me with a narrowed glare.
“My men will be crawling around the event tonight, so don’t even think
about making a run for it. If you try anything tonight, I will punish you. Do
you understand, princess?”
An involuntary shudder races up my spine. My stupid body now equates
punishment with a very naked Luca and a warm bubble bath. Somehow,
I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t allow me to get away a second time quite as
unscathed.
I run my tongue across my lower lip and his eyes trace the movement,
heat flashing across the darkness. “I understand.”
“Good. And if anyone asks how we know each other, let me do the
talking.”
“Fine,” I grit out. “Any more rules? Or was Dante making that up too?”
He pauses, eyes pinned to mine. “Oh, princess, there are many more
rules, so many they’d make your head spin.” A wicked grin spreads his lips,
revealing a hidden dimple. And Dio, that panty-dropping smile should be
illegal. The elevator doors glide open, and he leads me to the limo.
Mickey shoots me side-eye as he holds the door open, and I slide into
the backseat. Luca glides in beside me, his muscled thigh pressing against the silky satin of my gown. Heat radiates from his leg and sears into mine. I
scoot over and squeeze my eyes shut to steady my breathing. I’m tempted
to reach for my inhaler, but instead focus on deep breaths. Inhale. Exhale.
Images of the first time we rode in his town car fill my mind. Surely, his
driver has cleared all guns from the vehicle tonight.
Luca sits quietly beside me, the silence oddly comfortable. After a week
of living together, I’ve learned to sense shifts in his mood. The man is
mercurial at best, manic at worst. Perhaps, his mind is also on the last time
we rode together.
“Why are you going to this Heart Ball anyway?” I finally ask, curiosity
getting the best of me.
“It’s a charity I support.”
“How noble of you.”
He cocks a dark brow. “One of many.”
“How extra noble then.” I slant him a cheeky smile. I can’t believe how
much our relationship has changed in the short span of a week. “Do these
lovely, charitable men and women know you keep hostages in your
penthouse?”
“Of course not,” he grits out.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Stella…,” he growls.
“I know, I know. It’s an agreement, a business deal and that’s it. I
promise to be your gracious arm candy all night.”
“Thank you.”
Before long, the limo slows and spotlights dance across the tinted
windows. Despite my bravado, my pulse skyrockets at the sight. The New
York Public Library is aglow with lights, spotlights, flashlights, and camera
lights flickering through the darkness. Mickey opens the car door and I
freeze, a deer trapped in headlights. The click-click of cameras and bulbs
flashing has me on the verge of a panic attack. I reach for my purse but find warm fingers instead. Luca’s hand wraps around mine, and he guides me
out of the backseat, grabbing my clutch with his free hand. He leads me
between the iconic stone lions and up the red-carpeted marble steps,
effortlessly weaving me through the mob of guests and paparazzi.
Holy cannoli.
So, this is how the other half lives?
I stare up at the imposing marble columns and ornate details of the
national landmark. As a born and bred New Yorker, I hate to admit it, but
I’ve never actually been inside. A travesty really.
“Mr. Valentino!”
“Over here, Luca!”
“A quick picture, please.”
The paparazzi call out his name, but the C.E.O. of King Industries
doesn’t bat an eye. His hold on my hand only tightens as he steers me
through the real-life pages of Society Magazine.
“Luca, come on, remember you owe me one. For The New Yorker?” A
female voice cuts through the onslaught, and my escort pauses. From the
corner of his eye, he scans the woman in a fitted red pantsuit.
“Just one picture, Kerry.”
“One good picture,” she counters, “and the name of your date.”
With a frustrated sigh, he wraps his arm around my waist and turns us
toward the camera. “Stella Esposito,” he grits out.
The sound of my full name on his lips makes my stomach somersault.
And the fact that he used my mother’s maiden name instead of my asshole
father’s loosens the tightness in my chest. I take in a lungful of air and
plaster a smile on my face.
“That’s my good girl,” Luca whispers, his warm breath skating over the
shell of my ear. A delicious tingle races up my spine, and a genuine smile
parts my lips. His grin reflects my own, and an inexplicable giddiness fills
my chest. “Got it!” The reporter gives us an enthusiastic thumbs up as she glances
down at the camera. “It’s a really good one. The smile even looks genuine,
Mr. Valentino.”
With a grunt, Luca rushes us away from the crowd. He leads me up the
final steps through the archway, my head tilted back, completely absorbed
by the endless beauty. We stop at the foot of the ballroom, and I barely
suppress a gasp. Every corner is exquisitely decorated from the finest linens
to sparkling chandeliers and gilded centerpieces twinkling with candlelight.
“It’s something, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, unable to take it all in fast enough. “Do you attend a
lot of these events?”
He nods. “I’ve got three more this month.”
For an instant, I’m sad there aren’t more. Clara bought me dozens of
beautiful gowns. What would become of them all? A devastating thought
spears me in the heart. What if he’s done this before? What if there are
other women with whom he’s made arrangements like these? Maybe the
next one would inherit my dresses.
Logically, I shouldn’t care. I should be happy when this twisted bargain
is over.
Luca hands a cream envelope to a smiling female standing behind a
podium. The blonde doesn’t even open it, batting long fake lashes at my
escort. “Of course, Mr. Valentino and guest, please come this way,” she
croons.
And guest? Seriously?
The woman leads us to a table in the center of the room, right in front of
the dancefloor and mere inches away from the stage. “I hope this table suits
you, Mr. Valentino. It’s reserved for our most honored guests.”
“It’s fine, thank you.” He offers her a cold smile.
“If there’s anything else I can do for you, my name is Mitsy.” The
emphasis on the word anything has my hackles rising. “Noted. However, I’m certain my date will be more than capable of
tending to all my needs.” She blanches and skitters away as a smile tugs at
the corner of my lip. He turns his back to a quickly retreating Mitsy and
pulls out my chair. I have to clench my jaw to keep it from dropping. When
did the mob boss become a chivalrous gentleman?
I’m about to call him out on it when a muttered curse tumbles from his
gentlemanly lips. I look up, following his line of sight. A murderous
expression hardens the sharp lines of his jaw as they raze over Dante and a
leggy blonde.
Luca whirls at me and jerks me out of the chair. “Let’s dance.”