Page 53 of Devil's Iris
A dull throb starts in my temples as I try to picture it. Truth is, I’ve never really paid attention to their outfits because I didn’t give a shit what any of them wore. They weren’t mine to notice.
“You're without comparison, Leni. No matter what you wear, you’re going to outshine every woman in that room—and not just in looks.”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment she looks genuinely stunned, maybe even a little touched. “Th–thank you. So, you do know my name after all.” A teasing spark lights her eyes.
“What?”
“It’s alwaysbellezzaoruccellino. I’m not a little bird, by the way.”
Ah, she’s right. This is maybe the third time I’ve actually used her name instead of an endearment. “Wrong, you’remylittle bird,” I correct firmly. She opens her mouth to argue, and I chuckle, cutting her off. “Woman, I need to get changed if we don’t want to be late for dinner.”
On my way upstairs to my bedroom, I text Sandro to make some arrangements for Leni. I hate seeing that flicker of insecurity in her eyes about her appearance, so we’re fixing that shit right now.
SANDRO
We’re buying clothes for women now? I need to meet this fiancée of yours soon.
Just do what I fucking asked you to do.
He replies with a salute emoji, and I drop my phone on thenightstand as I make my way to my ensuite. I’ve been sleeping in the guest bedroom the past two nights because I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by invading her space too soon.
Next weekend is soon enough—no need to spook her before then.
When I walk into my bathroom, I’m caught off guard by the changes. My soap and shampoo have been pushed aside to make room for what looks like an entire pharmacy of bottles. I’m not exaggerating—there have to be a dozen different containers crowding my shower. Just how many different soaps does one woman need? I squint at the labels, trying to decipher the feminine mysteries: face wash, body wash, shampoo, and what appears to be five types of conditioners. Regular conditioner, leave-in conditioner, deep-conditioner, and two others I can’t even pronounce… what the hell is the difference?
Curiosity gets the better of me, and I pick up her body wash, popping the cap. The fragrance immediately fills the air, and blood rushes straight to my cock.This is what she smells like.I lift the bottle to my nose and inhale deeply, my eyes rolling back. Fuck. What the hell am I doing right now?
Get your shit together, Romero.
I force myself to return the bottle to its spot and crank the water temperature down to arctic. The freezing spray takes care of my arousal problem and I can breathe again without imagining bending her over in this exact fucking spot.
I don’t linger in the shower after that. I scrub my body dry with a fresh towel and make my way to the walk-in closet where I change into a navy suit while eying Leni’s side of the space. Her section looks practically empty compared to mine—something else we need to remedy.
SANDRO
It’s ready.
His text arrives as I’m heading downstairs. Another ping follows with an address, and I smile in satisfaction.
“We’re making a small detour before going to Rafael’s house,” I announce to Leni when I find her in the living room. She stands when she sees me, and I extend my hand towards her. “Come on.”
She slips her hand into mine without hesitation, and warmth spreads up my arm. When did this become so natural? I squeeze gently, anchoring myself to the moment.
“Where are we going?”
“Your dress is beautiful, but you clearly didn’t believe me earlier, and I refuse to let you feel self-conscious during your first meeting with my family. So, we’re getting you something else to wear.” A confident woman is a stunning woman. And you,uccellino,are going to walk in there and rewrite the definition.
She doesn’t argue as I lead her outside and into the SUV. Once she’s settled in the back, I circle around to the driver’s side. “We’re making a quick stop at Otto.” I show Logan the address on my phone, and he puts it into the GPS.
Sliding in beside Leni, I catch her clasping her hands like she’s trying to hold herself back from saying something. But then her eyes flick to mine. “We should just go straight to dinner. I don’t want us to be late, and you really don’t need to buy me a dress. You’ve done so much already.”
I give her a flat look. “No. You want another dress, you’re getting another dress. Don’t argue,” I add when she bites her lower lip—a gesture I’m learning means she’s about to dig in her heels.
She turns to look out of the window, and I relax back into my seat, satisfied that she has given up the fight.
“How was your court appearance today?” The question comes out of nowhere, but she’s still not looking at me, so Ican’t tell if she’s genuinely curious or just trying to fill the silence.
“It was great.”
