Sweet Temptation by Cora Reilly

with Luca. Everything is agreed upon. Given that we decided against a separate
engagement, that makes Giulia my fiancée, and I’m telling you now that nobody,
least of all you, will prevent this marriage.”
Maybe Cassio hadn’t wanted me, but he certainly wouldn’t allow anyone to
take me away from him.
I held my breath. This was Dad’s home, and he ruled over this city. He only
bowed down to Luca, certainly not to another Underboss.
At least, that was how it should have been.
Yet Dad cleared his throat and lowered his eyes. “I have no intention of
canceling our arrangement. I was only making a point.”
What point?
Cassio’s expression asked the same question. Mom barged in that moment,
completely oblivious to what was going on. “Dinner is ready!”
Her smile fell when she saw us.
Cassio held out his arm for me to take. I glanced at Dad, but he avoided my
eyes. The message was clear: from this day on, Cassio would lead the way.
I put my palm on my fiancé’s strong forearm. If Dad couldn’t protect me
anymore, that meant I’d have to protect myself. Cassio led me into the dining
room, following Mom, who was babbling about possible color schemes for our
wedding. Cassio probably didn’t care the slightest bit. As a man, he wouldn’t
even have to pretend otherwise—unlike me, the happy future bride.
When we arrived at the dining table, he pulled out the chair for me.
“Thank you.” I sank down, smoothing out my dress.
Cassio took the seat across from me. His eyes lingered on my bangs before
they moved on to my flower earrings, probably deciding what new haircut he’d
order me to get and what jewelry to buy for me.
He wanted to turn me into the wife he wanted, mold me like clay. Maybe he
thought my age made me a spineless marionette that would bow down to her
master at the slightest tug at her strings.
I met his gaze. I’d learned the subtle art of getting my way with a smile and
kindness, the only way a woman could get what she wanted in our world. Would
it work with Cassio? Dad always melted when I batted my lashes, but I had a
feeling Cassio wouldn’t be easily swayed.
A week later, two packages filled with dresses, skirts, and blouses arrived on our
doorstep. Mom could hardly contain her excitement as she unpacked clothes by
Max Mara, Chanel, Ted Baker, and many other of her favorite designers. The
dresses were pretty and elegant. They weren’t me at all.
I understood Cassio’s need to portray a certain image to the public, and at