Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

She tipped her chin up, trying to look taller. Her show was impressive, but
her shaking fingers and wide eyes betrayed her fear.
“How I see it… you spied on us. We had a confidential conversation that you
barged in on without permission,” I said in a low voice.
She looked away. “I was in the library when you came in and startled me.”
Faro started laughing beside me. I silenced him with a glare and heaved a
sigh. I didn’t have the patience for drama. For weeks, I’d hardly slept through a
night. The maids took most of the work off my hands, but Simona’s crying woke
me anyway. I needed a mother for my children, not another child to take care of.
“Faro, can you give us a moment?”
Giulia regarded me with uncertainty, still backed into that shelf. I took a step
away from her, giving her the appropriate space. Faro left and closed the door.
“This is inappropriate,” she said in her soft voice.
“I want to have a quick word with you. Later, your parents will be around
and we won’t have time to talk.”
“My mother will do all the talking. She’s exhausting like that.”
Was she teasing me? Her face was curious and cautious.
“That wasn’t meant for your ears.” I motioned toward the armchairs. “Will
you talk to me?”
She tilted her head as if she tried to understand me. “Of course.”
I waited for her to sit before I took my own seat. She crossed her legs, then
smoothed her bangs again, but flushed when she saw me watching. Her nose
twitched. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell my mother about this—”
“Don’t call me sir,” I growled.
She winced, stunned. “What am I supposed to call you?”
“How about you call me Cassio? I’ll be your husband soon.”
She released a shaky breath. “November.”
“Yes. Once you turn eighteen.”
“Does it make a difference? How do a few more months make me a viable
wife when I’m not now?”
“You’re too young either way, but I’ll feel more comfortable marrying you
when you’re of age officially.”
She pursed her lips and shook her head.
“I have two small children who need taking care of. Daniele is two, almost
three then, and Simona will be ten months when we marry.”
“Can you show me photos?” she asked, surprising me.
I took out my phone and showed her my background: a photo taken shortly
before Gaia’s death, but she wasn’t in it. Daniele was cradling his four-monthold
sister in his arms.
I watched Giulia’s face. Her expression softened, and she smiled—an
unguarded, honest smile. Not like the smiles I was used to from the women in
our circles. That, too, showed how young she was. Not yet jaded and guarded.
“They are adorable. And how cute he’s holding her.” She smiled at me then
became serious. “I’m sorry for your loss. I—”