Page 96 of Brutal Heir
“I just flew in from Milano this morning,” Serena explains. “And when Bella told me she was helping you buy a gift for Rory, I decided jet lag could wait.”
“You really didn’t have to…”
Serena slaps me on the shoulder, the good one, and throws me a grin. “Like I would ever miss out on this.”
“And I’m hurt, honestly, Ale.” Alessia pushes out her bottom lip as she stares up at me with big puppy dog eyes. “Why didn’t you ask me to help you shop?”
Because my sister doesn’t have a sympathetic, caring bone in her body, and I didn’t feel like getting endlessly harassed about my crush.
Which obviously it wasn’t. It was so much more than that.
“I know how busy you are, Alessia. I didn’t want to put you out.”
“I’m never too busy for my brother.” She curls her arm around my waist and blows me an air kiss.
“So what are we thinking, Ale?” Serena cuts in. “Tiffany’s? Or should we go all out and go straight to Harry Winston?” A devious grin parts her lips.
“Sere…” I growl.
“What? That woman is perfect for you, and I knew it the moment I met her.” She jabs her elbow into Bella’s side. “Didn’t I say it?”
Bella nods, throwing me an apologetic smile. “You did.”
“Mark my words, Alessandro will be down on one knee before the summer.”
“No one’s getting down on one knee…” Although hadn’t I just been on my knees for her last night and the one before? And the one before that?
Dio, I couldn’t get enough of her.
“I just want to get her a nice gift. For everything she’s done for me.”
“Oh, please,” Serena interjects, waving a dismissive hand. “Matty already told us you’re head over heels for her.”
“Cazzo, is nothing sacred in this family?” I mutter. I never should have told my big mouth of a cousin that I’d crossed that line with Rory. But I couldn’t help myself when he’d come over for our weekly chess match. The idiot said I was glowing.
“Nope, nothing,” the three females reply in perfect unison.
“Wonderful…” I can only imagine what dinner will be like now. I better warn Rory before she walks into the chaos. My family can be a bit much…
Bella wraps her hand around mine and totes me toward Tiffany’s. “I think we’ll find something perfect here. Nothing over the top, just something elegant and classic.”
I can’t help the smirk from tugging at my lip as I imagine Rory’s smart-ass response to being called elegant and classic. As the girls tug me into the store, I let my mind wander to heated memories of this morning, to waking up with the little she-devil naked in my arms.
Three nights in a row of sleeping with the same woman is a record for me. And I can’t wait to break it again and again.
The elevator doors slide open to a rush of noise and warmth, laughter, shouting, music, and the unmistakable scent of garlic, lemon, and branzino. Luca’s penthouse is already packed, the gilded hallway overflowing with Valentino and Rossi chaos.
And I’m already sweating.
Not because of the heat, though Aunt Stella has apparently decided her oven must double as a furnace, but because Christmas Eve in this family is like stepping into a battlefield. One where wine glasses are weapons and passive-aggressive remarks fly faster than bullets.
But this year, I’m not walking into the warzone alone. No, this won’t be anything like Thanksgiving.
Rory slips her hand into mine as we step out of the elevator, her fingers squeezing just enough to ground me. I glance over at her, and my chest tightens.
She looks… breathtaking. Not in the way people toss that word around. In the real, raw, I-can’t-breathe kind of way. She’s effortlessly, stupidly stunning in a ruby red wrap dress that brings out the wicked glint in her eyes and matches the fire in her hair. It’s festive. Elegant. Completely her. And she’s wearing it for me.
Dio, help me.
