Page 18 of Unworthy Ties
“Why do you want to go on a date with me?” I blurted, unable to keep the thoughts to myself.
“Because you’re my wife?” He answered, not looking up from his phone. His tone was matter-of-fact, as if my question was nonsensical.
Rocco was so frustrating. Yes, I was his wife, but it was an arranged marriage. The only thing he was obliged to do was keep my basic needs met and keep up appearances for our families. But a date?
“Be ready at five,” he said, before standing up and walking into his office.
“I-ugh!”
After a long talk with Giuseppe and six hours later, my frustration had dissipated. Now, I was standing by the door, my heart pounding with anticipation.
What? No, it couldn’t be anticipation. I wasn’t excited about this date; I was merely... curious. It had been a while since we last interacted beyond plain pleasantries, and this sudden change in routine was strangely refreshing.
I might have been lying to myself.
I stood at the front door wearing a sleek black dress that hugged my curves, paired with strappy heels that made my legs look impossibly long. I had spent more time than I cared to admit on my hair and makeup, telling myself it was just because I wanted to look presentable in public. It certainly wasn’t to impress a grumpy mafioso.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see.”
Before I could protest further, Rocco dragged me out of the penthouse and into the elevator. His hand on my lower back was firm, offering no room for resistance. My face burned bright red at the touch, and I quickly lowered my gaze to the elevator floor.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and I followed him into the parking garage, my heart pounding with an unfamiliar rhythm. Rocco led me to a sleek black car, the kind that whispered of power and elegance, and opened the door for me. I slid into the passenger seat, unsure of what to expect as I adjusted my dress, smoothing the fabric over my thighs. Rocco climbed in beside me, and the car came to life with a low, throaty growl. He was silent, focused on the road ahead, yet the tension in the air felt palpable.
“Do you ever smile?” I asked, breaking the silence.
His lips curled slightly at the corners, a flicker of amusement that quickly vanished. “I smile when it’s warranted.”
I bit my lip, unsure how to respond. The man beside me was a riddle wrapped in a mystery, and as much as I wanted to unravel him, I found myself caught in the storm of his silence. The car glided through the streets, the city lights painting a dreamy backdrop against the darkening sky.
The car pulled up to a quiet corner of the harbor where a sleek yacht was anchored. Rocco stepped out and came around to open my door, offering me his hand. I accepted it, stepping onto the pier with a glance around. The large yacht was illuminated by moonlight, a stunning white vessel bobbing gently on the dark, shimmering water.
“You rented a yacht for a date?” I said, overwhelmed by the grandiose gesture. “You didn’t have to—”
“I own it.”
“Of course,” I muttered under my breath, but he heard it—the corner of his mouth twitched as he guided me up the gangway.The deck was deserted, polished wood gleaming under strands of fairy lights strung above us. A table sat near the bow, set with candles flickering inside hurricane glass holders, silverware glinting beside bone-white plates. The wind carried salt and the distant hum of the city, but here, it felt like we’d slipped into another world.
Shoot. It was going to be freezing on this boat, and I only had on a skimpy dress. I ran my hands up and down my arms, already feeling the goosebumps forming. Rocco noticed my shivering and wordlessly shrugged off his suit jacket, draping it over my shoulders. The warmth of the fabric and his lingering scent enveloped me, causing a flutter in my stomach that I quickly tried to suppress.
He pulled out my chair without a word. I sank into it, clutching his coat tighter around me as he took the seat opposite. His gaze never left me, heavy and unreadable, even as a server materialized silently to pour champagne.
“Why all this?” I asked finally, gesturing at the absurd opulence around us.
He leaned back in his chair, swirling his glass. The candlelight carved shadows beneath his cheekbones, making his eyes look like smoldering coal. “I can’t take my wife on a date?”
His free hand closed over mine on the tablecloth, thumb grazing my knuckles. Static shot up my arm.
“Tch,” I said, looking away from him as I turned bright red. “This is an arranged marriage, remember?”
His fingers tightened around the stem of his glass. “Arranged,” he repeated, low and deliberate, as if tasting the word for poison. “And yet here you sit in my clothes.” His gaze dropped to where his oversized coat swallowed my frame, lingering on the strip of bare thigh exposed by the shifted fabric. The air between us thickened, charged like the moment before a lightning strike.
The champagne flute slipped from my fingers as he leaned across the table. Crystal shattered against the teak planks just as his lips brushed the shell of my ear. “You mistake paperwork for prison bars,” he murmured, breath hot against skin he had no right to know made my knees weak. “I could have you screaming vows you actually mean before dessert.”
The world tilted—whether from the yacht cresting a wave or the way his teeth scraped my earlobe, I couldn’t tell. My palm met his chest to push him back, but the heat of him seeped through his dress shirt, betraying me. “You’re delusional,” I hissed, though the tremor in my voice peeled the lie bare.
Rocco’s laugh was dark velvet. “Am I?” His hand slid up my thigh beneath the table, fingertips tracing my exposed thigh. Every rational thought dissolved into primal static.
