CHAPTER TEN— HATE TO HATE

I didn’t bother to turn around. Even when I knew he was still there, standing at the foot of the bed, staring at me. I could feel his presence, thick like the scent of sex still lingering in the air— evidence of what we'd done, what I'd allowed him to do, but I forced myself to focus on the slow rhythm of my breathing, pretending that what just happened meant nothing. Pretending that I hadn’t just given him a part of myself no other man had ever had before.

Luca wasn’t the kind of man who accepted defeat easily. I knew that much. And when he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured, but carrying an undercurrent of something I couldn’t quite place.

“You think you can just use me and toss me aside, Principessa?” he said the endearment mockingly. There was amusement in his tone, but it was laced with something darker. Something possessive.

I finally turned, raising a brow at him. “I would hardly call what just happened ‘me using you and dumping you.’ It's more of a mistake that would never happen. Ever again.”

His jaw clenched. He took a step closer, hands tucked in his pockets like he was trying to restrain himself. Good. If he came at me, I couldn't promise that I wouldn't hurt or kill him. “Do I really disgust you that much, Ariadne? Do you hate me that much that you would call what we shared ‘a mistake that would never happen?’ You know what I think? I think this is a stupid and dangerous game you’re trying to play. Don't be surprised if it comes back to bite you.”

I scoffed. “It’s not a game, Luca. You’re the one who dragged me into this arrangement, remember? I’m just making the best of a bad situation.”

“An arrangement I didn't sign up for too, remember? I only agreed to this, because —”

“Because your nephew decided to get another woman pregnant so he can run from his duty. Yeah, I know the whole sob story. But nobody threatened you to marry me. You saw an opportunity and simply took it.”

He stared at me for a long moment, his gaze flicking from my swollen lips to the marks he’d left on my skin. Then, as if this was some cliche drama, he laughed. Laughed like I was comedy central.

“What's funny?”

“Oh, you are.” He mocked. “It's obvious you have no idea how things work in our circle, do you? You think if I had a choice I would marry and immature, childish girl who throws tantrums when things don't go her way?”

He spit out condescendingly, and I wanted to hurl the lampshade at him. God, he was an asshole and I hated him.

“You are really on the road to win ‘best asshole of the year.’ But don't let me stop you.” I tried keeping my tone casual and bored, but I didn't miss the anger I held at him for calling me immature and childish.

For some reason, I had an unexplainable urge to impress him. To show him I was grown. Was this what sex did? Did you become attached to each other after an orgasmic bliss?

He raised a brow in amusement. “Dish it, but can't take it?”

I didn't bother answer him as I turned my back to him and lay back, ignoring him this time. I heard him chuckle and then seconds later, the door clicked shut. I looked over and true enough, he'd left.

I released the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My body still ached with the aftershocks of what he’d done to me, but I ignored it, shoving it down. This wasn’t real. None of this was real. This was just a deal, an arranged marriage and in three days, when I walked down that aisle and became Mrs. Luca Russo, I would make sure my heart stayed out of it.

No matter how badly my body wanted otherwise.

*****

The next morning, I woke to a knock on my door. I told the person to come in and then whoever it was pushed the door open, coming in. One of Luca’s men stood there, a neatly pressed dress draped over his arm.

“Mr. Russo requests your presence for breakfast,” the man said, his voice impassive.

I groaned, rolling onto my side. “Tell him I’m not hungry.”

The man didn’t move. Guard dog. “He insists, Miss Moretti.”

Of course he does. With a sigh, I sat up, yanking the dress from his grasp. “Fine. Tell your boss I’ll be down in ten minutes.”

He nodded, and then left the room.

After a quick shower, I slipped into the dress—a silky, midnight blue that clung to my curves in a way I was certain Luca had planned. This was another power move, another game. But I refused to let him win.

I entered the dining room to find him already seated at the head of the long table, sipping coffee so casually like he hadn’t spent last night with his head between my thighs.

He looked up as I approached, a smirk curving his lips. “Good morning, Principessa.”

I slid into the chair across from him, glaring at him. “Don't call me that!”

His smirk widened. “Sure. Principessa.” I rolled my eyes, earning a laugh from him. He was really having fun messing with me.

“What did you call me for, Luca? Surely, you didn't ask me for breakfast and bought me a dress worth enough to buy a Prada just because you didn't want me to starve to death.”

He nodded, his eyes still twinkling with amusement. “You're absolutely right. I thought we should talk about our upcoming wedding. You know, the one happening in seventy-two hours.”

Don't remind me. “Oh?” I feigned surprise. “I didn't know it was that soon. But who's counting anyways?”

He shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. “I am, darling. I can't wait to finally make you mine.”

Something in my stomach tightened, but I ignored it. I picked up my fork, stabbing at my food with more force than necessary, imagining it was him. “You don’t own me, Luca.”

His gaze darkened, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. “Yet.”

The air between us charged with something dangerous. And for the first time since this whole mess started, I wondered if I was truly prepared for the storm I had willingly walked into.

*****

After breakfast, I retreated to my room, needing a moment alone. My thoughts were a jumbled mess, and I wanted nothing more than to talk to someone who wasn’t Luca Russo. Someone who could remind me that I wasn’t completely losing my mind.

I reached for my nightstand, searching for my phone. My fingers felt around, but there was nothing. I frowned and checked the dresser, the desk, under my pillow — everywhere I might have left it. Still nothing.

My heart started pounding as realization hit me. Luca.

Storming out of my room, I made my way downstairs, my flops silent against the grand marble flooring. The soft hum of a television reached my ears, and I followed the sound until I found him lounging in the living room, his long legs stretched out, watching a film like he didn’t have a care in the world.

He barely acknowledged me when I entered, his gaze locked onto the screen. “Something you need, Principessa?”

I crossed my arms, keeping my most intimidating glare. “Where’s my phone?”

He finally turned his attention to me, his eyes skimming lazily at me. “I seized it.”

My breath hitched. Was he being serious? “You what?”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. “Until I can trust you, I can’t have you making calls I don’t approve of. You know like attempting your second escape.”

Fury roared through me, but I tried restraining myself. “You controlling, arrogant bastard! You have no right—”

He chuckled, completely unaffected by my outburst. “I have every right, Principessa. You’re mine now.”

I stalked closer, jabbing a finger at his chest. “For the thousandth time, I don’t belong to you, Luca. You may have forced me into this, but you will never own me.”

His expression darkened, his amusement fading into something more dangerous. “Is that so?”

I swallowed, refusing to back down. “Yes.”

For a moment, he said nothing, just studied me with that unnerving intensity that made my stomach twist. Then, with a shrugged, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his own phone, holding it out to me. “If you need to call your family, I’d be more than happy to lend you mine.”

I eyed the phone and then narrowed my eyes at him. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said smoothly. “I just like knowing who you’re talking to.”

So in other words, he was a controlling bastard. Got it.

My fingers curled into fists at my sides. I hated him. Hated him for making me feel so powerless. Hated that, despite everything, part of me still burned from last night’s touch.

But more than anything, I hated that he always had the upper hand.

Grinding my teeth, I snatched the phone from him and turned on my heel, determined to reclaim my last shred of control.