Luca Romano is a force to be reckoned with - a powerful, wealthy man who commands respect and fear in equal measure. He's ruthless to his enemies, but to those he loves, he's fiercely loyal and protective.
And I am his. From the moment I entered his...
"So let me get this straight, you left her on the isle?"
"Yes, because she kissed another man-her lipstick was smudged." I explained, pouring myself a glass of vodka.
"And? Why did that affect you? Did you feel angry, sad, annoyed or even disrespected?"
"Betrayed." I whisper out, "I have never touched a single woman in my life-I stuck to the contract but she just had to fall right in love with him. I mean-he's fucking ugly-like-what did she even see in him?"
"Maybe she saw his pure heart? Maybe she saw something that you do not have?" She flicks the pen around in her around.
"Then she definitely forgot to wear her glasses." I take small sips.
"I think you were insecure."
"Insecure? Me? Do you know who I am?"
"I know the front you put out, feared man with money. Afraid of nothing."
"That's right." I smirk, leaning against the couch. Doctor Maryam leans over her clipboard and fixes her hijab quickly.
"Did she fear you?" She asks.
"She feared her father, and he'd treat her like a slave."
"And what did you do?"
"I sorted him out."
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Being a Romano felt as if I had everyone on the tip of my finger by the way I am being treated, my mother was shifting my veil behind my back as I sat right beside Luca.
His shoulders were wide enough to fit nearly two chairs at this point, his hands that rested round his glass of vodka-well the glass disappeared. I mean that literally, I sat with my hands resting on my lap whilst my father kept conversation going.
God this is awkward.
He barely looked at me throughout the dinner, he barely even acknowledged me-he acknowledged the help more than his wife. Once the food was placed in front of us, I lift my fork and poke it into the food-taking small bites as I was taught growing up.
His fingers slid around the glass of vodka, he lifts it up and towards his lips as it gently settles onto them. The liquid crashing into his mouth like ocean waves, the ice cubes dangling around the glass.
He finished the vodka.
"Athena, go get him another drink."
My father interrupts the conversation, just as I was about to take a bite. I settle my fork down but the sound of his voice-
"I didn't ask for one." He replies, his voice held so much power, the depth inside surprising me. The way the words rolled of his tongue frightened my father, I could see it in his eyes.
