The Vatican - M.E. Clayton Page 0,27
“He’s joking, Jessica.” Holding my gaze, Ria added, “I’m sure you can take his mind off me. I’m sure you’re great at distracting him from anything that has to do with me.”
I wanted to roar the truth. No woman has ever had what it took to distract me from Saveria. It’s always been her, but this thing between us was so fucked-up, I wasn’t sure there was any fixing it.
This time, I looked over at Jessica. “Jessica, you need to leave,” I told her unfairly. “Luca and I need to talk.”
Ria’s breath hitched, while Jessica looked confused. I’ve always called her Fiore. “Who’s Luca?”
I jerked my head towards the woman in question. “Your new friend, Ria, is actually Luca Saveria Fiore. Ria for short.”
Jessica’s eyes rounded to comical proportions. “Holy shit,” she breathed. “Uh, yeah…” She turned and damn near ran from the table.
Once she was out of earshot, Saveria let loose. “What gives you the right?”
I stepped to her, grabbed her by the arm, and tossed her in the seat I had been occupying. I placed my hands on either side of the chair, caging her in. “Are you forgetting you’re going to be my wife?” I seethed. “I’d say that gives me every right.”
She smirked. “I’m not married tonight, though, am I?” Before I could beat her to death, she said, “And don’t be a hypocrite, Benetti. You’ve always known you were going to be my husband, but that didn’t stop you from fucking random pussy. Don’t tell me I can’t spread my legs for random cock, because, by my count, that marital knowledge doesn’t mean shit when it comes to fucking other people.”
I looked into her wild eyes and the fury I was feeling was deep and debilitating. “I will kill you if you go to another man knowing what you know now, Luca.” I purposely used her real name, so she’d know I wasn’t fucking around. In all our twenty-four years together, this was probably only the fourth time I’ve ever called her anything other than Fiore.
Then she fucking dug the poker deeper into my chest. “Let me go, Benetti,” she hissed, and I knew she wasn’t talking about the seat she was in. She was telling me to let her go completely.
“No,” I snapped.
“It’s not going to end well for either of us, Benetti,” she hissed back.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I told her truthfully. “I’m not letting you go.” Her eyes flicked down towards my lips and I wanted to push her dress up and fuck her in front of the entire club. I wanted to lay a permanent claim on her for the entire fucking world to see. And I was afraid if I touched her, I’d do it.
Either that or kill her.
“We’re going to make each other miserable,” she said, truth at what she was saying in every word.
“So be it,” I snarled, hating that she hated me. “It doesn’t change anything. You’re going to be my wife, and that’s that, Fiore. Deal with it.” I leaned in closer. “Now, you have two choices. You can walk out of here, calmly and respectfully, or I can drag you out by whatever my hand latches onto first.”
“Oh, really?” she taunted.
“Yes, really. And, I swear to God, if I ever catch you in here again, I will burn this place to the ground and write Uncle Ciro a check.”
She straightened her back, and we were almost nose-to-nose. “Then I’ll just go to The Emerald for my dick,” she flung back, and, God bless Mica, he’d just saved her life.
“It’s time to leave, kids,” he said. “Artensio and Ellyia have both had to confiscate some phones already.”
I stared at this woman full of hate, and asked, “What’s it going to be?”
“Move,” she snarled, “so I can stand up.”
I moved out of her way, and she grabbed her clutch and stood up. When I placed my hand on the small of her back, that’s when I got a clear look at the back of her dress, and I wanted to fucking beat her for days. The dress had been cut out from her neck to the slop of the top of her ass, only a thin strip across the middle. When my hand touched her skin, it felt like my entire body was on fire.
I leaned down in her ear as I escorted her through the club towards the back. “Remind me to go through your wardrobe and throw out anything that makes you look like