Page 37 of Veiled Amor

“Obviously not.” She smiled and pulled her hands free of his. “Besides, the Texas dry heat would be hell on my hair, and I’d hate living on a farm.”

“You’re not being sold to live on a Texas farm with an old cunt.”

“I think he’s in his forties.”

He turned a stare to see her smiling. Teasing him.

Holy Mother Magdalene, save him from this woman. Muttering in Spanish, he hustled her over to the bar where a prospect brought a coffee pot, pouring for them both.

“You won’t do anything you don’t wanna do. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Is that so?” Her voice was softer.

Now she was calm, and he was the one about to fly off the handle by imagining her forced into something she didn’t want to do, all because Nicholas was an unfeeling control freak. He hated it more because he’d lose her.Again.

The next words growled out of his mouth, came from a place deep inside.

And he meant them.

God help him. He meant every fucking word.

“Sí, it’s so. Even if it means I have to marry you first.”

TWELVE

“Sacrifice in my name.” Lucia

The tension expanded like a stretching bubble surrounding them.

Every other person hanging around disappeared as she stared at the man who’d said…

With so many swirling thoughts, it took a second or more for the stomach-churning and her lungs to catch a breath. Then she grasped onto one thought, the one most prominent in her head. And when she did, oh, Lucia was mad enough to spit nails.

“I cannot believe you.” She fired. “If youhave tomarry me. Have. To. I can’t believe you right now.”

Hopping down from the stool, making her so much smaller than him. Fire licked all over her skin as hurt settled into her heart. She’d always had the urge to kiss Capone whenever she saw him. Now that urge was about putting her fist in his face. The realization was coming fast, how her crush was only ever going to be one-sided.

Lucia wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry for all the time she’d put into loving a man who couldn’t give a flying monkey for her other than a stupid obligation that meant nothing.

“It wasn’t meant—”

“Spare me,” she stopped him. “I know exactly what you meant and why you said it. And let me tell you, Capone.”

“Giancarlo,” he growled hard enough it rattled through her skin. “You never used to call me Capone.”

“Then I should start to because this man you are now is someone I don’t know.” New darkness crossed over his face, but so did hurt, and she felt a pang for causing it. It was the last thing she’d ever do, but amid her temper, she didn’t care. “Let me tell you,” she picked up right where she left off. “The last thing I want is to have no choice about marrying a second Mercado.”

The moment she said it, she felt the chill, like a physical icy cloud putting arms around her.

It was a mistake and not something she’d planned to say.

Daring to glance at him through her long lashes, he looked like he’d turned to stone. Stretched olive skin over his chiseled bone structure. He could never look feminine, he was too rough around the edges for that, but Giancarlo had a model jawline. Frequently he’d left her dry-mouthed and wet…eh, never mind. Not the time for that either.

He was annoyed, but this was her turn to be cross, so she put her hands on her hips.

“Thanks for the oh-so-generous and martyring offer, but I’ll decline.”

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