The Marriage Clause

by Alexx Andria

  A slow smile spread across his lips before he dipped to taste me again.

  When he released me, we were both breathing hard. It didn’t matter that we were standing on a busy city sidewalk, parting people like Moses and the Red Sea as they went around us. For a brief, heart-stopping moment, it was only him and me.

  I wiped at my mouth as reality returned. Luca would use every second of the week to try to convince me to marry him. Perhaps in addition to his need to please his father, it was a game and his pride was on the line. It couldn’t possibly be because he truly did love me.

  I wouldn’t entertain something so foolish.

  But I could do this kicking and screaming, fighting the entire way, or I could concede for the sake of a smoother ride to the end. Could I beat Luca at his own game? Could I shut off my heart and play the part of his fiancée, knowing full well I intended to walk away when it was all done?

  Honest answer? I wasn’t sure. I wanted to be strong enough to follow through with my plan, but there was a part of me that still yearned for what I’d thought I was getting when I was sixteen.

  God, I’d loved him so hard.

  They always said first love was the most powerful. Win or lose, the experience left a mark. I would bear Luca’s mark on my soul until I died.

  Dramatic? Perhaps, but there was no other way to explain the hold he had on me.

  Time to forget all that. Time to play to win.

  “Okay, Luca,” I finally said, my tongue darting to taste where his lips had been. “I will stop fighting you on this and play the part of your fiancée until our deal is up. Where to next, honey?”

  He slipped his hand into mine, answering, “On to Alcatraz, then shopping. I have a few places in mind, and I think you’re going to love them.”

  I forced a smile and allowed him to pull me along, keeping step with his stride.

  From the outside looking in, we might’ve looked like lovebirds out on the town, but I knew the truth.

  At least... I think I do.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Luca

  I DIDN’T TRUST Katherine to accept our deal without argument for the rest of the week. My fiancée wasn’t malleable or meek, and knowing she would tell me to shove it was invigorating.

  I know—stupid—but she captivated me in a way I couldn’t explain, not to my father, not to myself. All I knew was I would do anything to keep her.

  If that meant lying, deceiving, strong-arming... I was beneath nothing, but if she wanted to play games with the master, I’d certainly indulge her. She thought that by playing the part of the sweet fiancée, she’d play me, then walk.

  I would never let her walk.

  But if she expected me to play fair, she was naive.

  My cock hardened at the thought of tonight.

  The moment Katherine walked over the threshold of Malvagio, the sensory overload would start.

  Sights, smells, sounds—the club was a smorgasbord of consensual debauchery.

  Katherine was a powder keg of repressed need. All it would take was a spark and she’d ignite. And I fully planned to be the one holding the match.

  Maybe it was playing dirty to push all her buttons at once, but I didn’t have the luxury of slowly wooing her. Seduction was my best chance.

  Once on the ferry to Alcatraz Island, the wind whipping her hair across her face, I pulled her into my arms to shield her from the bracing cold. She shivered and settled against me, choosing warmth over pride. Her scent teased my senses; her soft behind pressed against my groin. I sprang an erection nearly immediately, and I didn’t try to hide it. If anything, I pulled her closer so that she knew exactly how she affected me.

  Her sharp inhale told me she knew.

  I leaned down to whisper against the shell of her ear, “You have the best ass. The memory of bending you over the bathroom counter...sliding my hard cock into you...it still turns me on to this day.”

  Katherine swallowed but recovered enough to quip, “Hold on to that... No repeats are scheduled on this trip.”

  I laughed, knowing she was struggling. Her shallow breath and the restless wiggle of her backside against my cock was evidence enough that she was lying through her teeth, but I enjoyed the chase.

  Pressing, I said, “That’s a shame. You have the sweetest O face. The way your toes curl and your mouth goes slack, your eyes squeeze shut as your breath is held captive in your lungs...it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. When I jerk off...it’s your face I picture.”

  “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she shot back, her tone breathless.

  “I haven’t kissed my mother since I was ten,” I told her, allowing my mouth to drift down the column of her neck. “But I remember the way you taste. The sweet tang of your pussy haunts my dreams. The way your belly trembles and your thighs quake when you reach your climax...the way you gush, flooding my mouth when you come...your taste is an addiction I can’t quite quit.”

  “Stop,” she demanded, but the word was weak at best. “No sex.”

  “Who’s having sex?” I questioned with false innocence. “We’re just talking.”

  “But you’re talking about sex.”

  “Ah, well, you never said we couldn’t talk about sex,” I reminded her, neatly snaring my little spitfire with her own words. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the scent of you on my cock...teasing me throughout the day, reminding me of how perfectly I fit inside you...the way you moan, clutching the bedsheets as you come hard...yeah, definitely my favorite memory.”

  “Luca...”

  I ignored her plea. The ferry was moderately full, the nasty weather having put off many of the tourists hoping to see the infamous prison island, but there were enough people to make touching impossible and I wanted to slip my hands down the front of her pants to see if her core was as wet as I believed it would be.

  The inability to do as I pleased only heightened the anticipation for tonight. I savored my own frustration as I continued to stoke hers.

  “Do you think of me when you touch yourself?”

  Her quick no was telling.

  I sighed, tightening my hold around her waist, my thumb lightly stroking her belly over her sweater. “Want to know what I think? I think when you close your eyes at night, your hand drifting down to your dripping pussy, you finger yourself with me in mind. I think you come with my name on your lips.”

  “You have quite the imagination,” she said, glancing around the ferry to see if anyone was listening. “I don’t think of you at all.”

  “No?”

  “Nope.” She added with a sniff, “I have slept with other men, you know.”

  I stiffened. “Careful.” Unlike my family, I hadn’t expected Katherine to remain celibate until I married her, but I didn’t want her past lovers rubbed in my face.

  But I realized my mistake too late.

  “Oh, yes, when I really want to get off, I think of—”

  I turned her roughly to face me. “You like to live dangerously,” I said, my tone low, daring her to continue. The more I thought of someone else with Katherine, the more I wanted to break something. “Don’t let your mouth overload your pretty ass.”

  Her angelic smile was anything but. “Jealous?”

  “Territorial.”

  “Is there a difference?”

  “Jealousy is an emotion reserved for those who want but can’t have. Territorial is the need to protect what is already yours.” Katherine held my stare, her chin lifting in a subtle motion. Defiance flitted through that expressive face, but she remained silent. “Make no mistake, Katherine, you are mine,” I murmured, brushing my lips across hers. “Always.”

  The tiny shiver in her frame was the only confirmation I needed. She talked a big game, but Katherine was a quivering ball of need, her body reacting to mine with delicious readiness, no matte
r how vehemently she protested.

  “Alcatraz Island,” the ferry operator called out, and Katherine wasted no time in scuttling down the ramp, putting distance between us.

  But it was the quick glance backward that did her in.

  Her cheeks flushed, her beautiful eyes wide, her sensual mouth plump from my kiss...she wasn’t running from me. She was running from the desperate hunger she couldn’t deny.

  A slow answering smile curved my mouth.

  Victory was a dish best savored slowly, so as to fully appreciate its subtle nuances.

  Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Katherine

  I DIDN’T KNOW what scared me more—Luca’s steadfast assurance that he would win or my fear that I might want him to.

  I was grateful for the distraction of the Alcatraz tour so I could get my bearings again. Being pressed against Luca was hazardous to my resolve. The memory of each sculpted hill and valley of his physique was imprinted on my brain. My knees seemed to be made of jelly when he touched me.

  But as we walked the tour, our attention drawn to the historical facts of the most infamous prison of its time, the tension coiled in my gut slowly lessened.

  “To be locked up in this place...it must’ve been awful,” I murmured, peering into the cell on display, the metal cot with its thin, worn mattress, the saddest thing I’d ever seen. Some of the most dangerous criminals in the United States had been housed here at one time. Luca was similarly engaged with the self-guided tour, his brow furrowed with interest as we listened through our headphones, and I took a private moment to regard him without his knowledge. Why was the man so beautiful? His skin glowed with his Italian heritage; his nose, strong and firm as his jaw, spoke of authority and inborn confidence.

  Luca was hard to forget—even harder to push away when he wanted to stay.

  But I had to steel myself against the onslaught of feelings that came into play whenever Luca was involved. The fact that he was playing to win only pinched harder. Why hadn’t he cared this much when he’d broken my heart?

  He hadn’t tried very hard at all back then. If anything, he’d seemed irritated by my refusal to believe his thinly patched-together excuse. His clichéd “It isn’t what it looks like” had been an insult to my intelligence.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wiped them away quickly. Why did I care? I might have wanted Luca’s love at one point, but I didn’t anymore. Now he was just a threat to my freedom.

  I thanked the part of me that was still looking out for my best interests, instead of the part that just wanted to open my legs and feel him inside me again.

  The self-guided tour ended, and we found ourselves back at the gift shop. I was prepared to walk back out, choosing not to purchase anything to commemorate this trip, but Luca was on a buying spree.

  He grabbed two sweatshirts, a ball cap, several key chains, two coffee mugs and a handful of Alcatraz-themed T-shirts. When I gaped, he just grinned and donned the ball cap with a charming grin, saying, “This is how places like this survive. Gotta keep history alive.” After paying for his purchases, he handed a wad of cash to the astonished docent, tipping the ball cap with a charming “Keep up the good work. The tour was great” before exiting the gift shop.

  “Th-thank you,” the guide stammered with a delighted smile. “What a generous donation! Alcatraz thanks you!”

  I flashed a quick smile and followed him out. “That was unexpected of you,” I said, standing beside him on the bluff overlooking the cold Pacific. “How much did you just give as a donation?”

  He shrugged. “Just whatever I had in my billfold. Probably five hundred. I think when I get home I’ll make a bigger donation. Places like this need support in order to make it.”

  The crust around my heart cracked a little bit, but I just nodded and left it at that. I suppose it didn’t matter if his donation was all part of his scheme to seduce me, because historically relevant places did need donations to survive, so I let it be.

  The ferry came to return us to the city, and Luca had a sleek town car waiting at the pier.

  I was secretly relieved to have a nice place to relax, as the walk around Alcatraz hadn’t been a leisurely stroll. Much like everywhere else in San Francisco, it seemed, there were steep hills and the misty air had nearly frozen my lungs.

  We returned to the hostel, collected our things and checked out, then we checked into a different hotel, one of Luca’s choosing.

  The Loews Regency Bridge to Bridge suite was more in keeping with Donato expectations. The view from the private terrace was stunning with the Bay and Golden Gate Bridges both visible on good days. I tried not to sigh with relief at the sumptuous king-size bed dominating the room, but my bones were eager to sleep in all that luxury after suffering through a night in the hostel bed.

  I’d almost forgotten how nice Luca could be. Whereas some people with obscene wealth were wretched to servers, Luca was different. Although firm, he always treated them, from the housekeepers to the valet, with respect, and he believed in rewarding those who performed well.

  I had to admit, it was a tiny notch in his favor. I abhorred assholes who treated other people as beneath them.

  After tipping the bellhop, he closed the door and immediately started making calls, all the while instructing me to enjoy a bath while he handled some business before our dinner tonight.

  “I thought we were going shopping,” I said.

  He paused in his call to say, “Clothes will be delivered within the hour. By the time you’re finished, you’ll have clothes to wear to dinner.”

  Of course. I bit back a sigh. I could only imagine what would be awaiting me when I finished my bath. I didn’t like the feeling of being dressed up like a doll, but he was already in business mode and anything I said would be a waste of energy.

  Besides, it was only for a short time. No matter what he had in store for me tonight, nothing would change my mind.

  The fact was, even if I was in love with Luca—which I wasn’t—I would never stay.

  The fear that I couldn’t go through with the wedding had started six months ago. I couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that I’d be walking down the aisle toward someone I didn’t trust.

  I wasn’t hardwired for a business-type marriage. I wanted the real deal, the love and butterflies, the romance.

  If we chose to have children, I wanted those children conceived in love, not obligation.

  Luca’s mother had already started talking about the appropriate timeline for her first grandchild, which had really put me off.

  Maybe I didn’t want to get pregnant on her social schedule. Maybe I didn’t want to have kids at all—I didn’t know—but I did know that someone else wasn’t going to be in charge of my fallopian tubes.

  Luca was expected to take over the family business once Giovanni retired, but seeing as the old grump seemed to sip on the spring water of eternal life, I suspected he’d outlive us all, which meant we’d never escape his influence.

  Much like the Donato boys, I’d been raised by a nanny, but from the time I was thirteen, I was invited to the Donato mansion for their social events, which were frequent, so sometimes I felt I knew the Donato home better than my own. Once I turned sixteen, I was invited to private dinners so I could get to know my future husband under the watchful eyes of our parents.

  It’s amazing what kids can adjust to.

  I’m not sure if it was a tragedy or a blessing that I’d fallen in love with Luca on my own.

  I sank into the bath, blissing out in the luxury of the massive sunken tub as the jets pulsated beneath my sore muscles.

  Walking anywhere in San Francisco was like training for a triathlon, and I was sorely out of shape, if my screaming thigh muscles were any indication of my fitness level.

  A short knock at the door interrupted my
contented sigh. “Yes?” I asked, wondering what Luca could need.

  “May I come in?”

  It was stupid, but I was charmed by his courtesy. Luca made no secret that he wanted me, but thus far, we’d avoided having sex. “Y-yes,” I answered, my voice catching. I cleared my throat and tried again with a clear yes.

  Luca came in, shirtless, I might add, and handed me a flute of champagne—my favorite drink—along with a small tray of chocolate-dipped strawberries.

  I grinned, not bothering to hide my excitement at the welcome snack. We hadn’t eaten since brunch. He placed the tray next to me and went to the sink to rinse the sweat of the day from his face. My belly tingled as I toyed with an outrageous offer, knowing it was a bad idea, but the allure of danger had always been my downfall.

  “If you want to join me, you can,” I offered politely. I mean, he had brought me delicious goodies, and it seemed only fair to share the tub before dinner so he could use the jets on his muscles, too. Between last night’s awful sleep and then walking around all day, he must be suffering as much as I was.

  “You sure?” Luca asked with an uncertain smile that was both endearing and sexy at the same time—yep, dangerous. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll catch an illicit eyeful of titty or I might offend you with my naked body?”

  “Your body was never the problem” dropped from my mouth before I could stop it. Damn champagne, loosening the gears on my jaw, apparently. “Look, we can be adults. We’ve already seen each other naked plenty of times, but the bubbles provide a modicum of privacy and you look like you could use the jets, too.”

  “All right,” Luca said with a nod, popping the button on his jeans with a deliberate motion that made all the nerve endings in my body wake up and take notice. I pretended to be unaffected by his seemingly unintentional strip tease and looked away just as he dropped his boxer briefs.

  Luca slid into the tub, giving me the all clear with a “Your virgin eyes are safe,” the laughter in his voice coaxing a smile from my lips.

  His deep sigh as he sank lower into the water did terrible things to my determination, but I’d put myself in this situation, perhaps as a test. I was in a giant bubbly tub with Luca, undoubtedly the sexiest man I’d ever known.