PunishingPhoebe (7 page)

“I wanted to confirm you will be at the
house for dinner this evening.”

Luca nodded. “Of course. It’s been on my
calendar for a month. I will be bringing a guest.” He sounded bland, but his
watchful gaze seemed to dare Salvatore to make an issue out of his statement.

Salvatore’s gaze contained malicious
pleasure when it narrowed on Phoebe. “That is fine. I shall warn the
housekeeper to set another place…and secure the silver.”

Phoebe let the comment slide, somehow
resisting the urge to retaliate. She prided herself on being mature and
responsible, but it was difficult to maintain her dignity in the face of
Salvatore’s unreasoning hatred. To her relief, he departed with only a brief
word of parting for Luca.

Once he had gone, she turned to Luca. “I
assume you were referring to me as your guest?”

“Of course.” His smile revealed nothing. “I
did say I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

She shook her head. “I have no desire to
spend an evening in your father’s company. I’ve heard all the insults I can
take the past few days. There’s no question he doesn’t want me there.” But that
hadn’t seemed the case. Salvatore had acquiesced without even an argument. His
easy acceptance of her at his evening function was disconcerting, considering
just how much he hated her.

He put his hand on the small of her back to
guide her toward his office. “Relax. There will be others attending, including
Capro Giovanni. It’s about time you put a face with the name, especially since
he’ll be taking up a corner office by the end of the year.”

“If it were just business, I wouldn’t
hesitate to agree, but I can’t do it.”

He lifted a brow. “You act like you have a
choice in the matter. It is my wish to have you at my side, and my wish is your
command.”

She had to bite down on her tongue to
express her opinion of his attitude. “Yes, Master,” she said tightly. “What
else is your wish? Shall I appear bound in chains, kneeling at your feet?”

“That idea has merit,” he said in a smoky
tone. “But not for Papà’s dinner party. A suitable dress will do.” Luca swooped
forward, capturing her mouth in a quick kiss that didn’t last nearly long
enough. As soon as her stiffened muscles relaxed, telling him of her loss of
resistance, he withdrew. “In the meantime, I’ll settle for coffee and your
excellent dictation skills, Ms. Sanders.”

Before she could retort, Luca disappeared
back into his office, leaving her seething with anger, but having no outlet to
express it. She had to settle for tearing the top sheet from her steno pad,
shredding it into large pieces, and tossing it at the trashcan before stomping
into his office. He could get his own damn coffee.

* * * * *

She should have known he would think of
everything. Phoebe grimaced at the box lying on the king-size bed she now
shared with Luca. It represented the end of her only reason for skipping the
evening. Bearing the name of a famous boutique, it couldn’t be anything but a
dress for the evening. He had anticipated she either wouldn’t have anything
suitable, or would try to pretend she didn’t, and had countered before she
could make that move.

He didn’t say a word, nor did he appear to
be gloating as he entered the bedroom, holding something at his side. “I took
the initiative to order you a gown for this evening, just in case you didn’t
have anything appropriate.”

“So I see.” She glared at the offending
box, knowing in other circumstances she would have thrilled at wearing
something from that designer, especially if it was for a function attended on
Luca’s arm. If only things were different…

She cut off the thought with a sigh,
knowing she would have to accept things would never be the same again. There
could be no naïve delight in the gift, or tonight’s outing, because both served
another purpose, having little to do with her. Phoebe had spent the afternoon
thinking about why Luca might drag her to a dinner party hosted by his father,
concluding he could only be doing it to torture her and annoy Salvatore. He
could torture her without the fancy accoutrements, but by dressing her up to
fit a high-society standard, he was throwing it in Salvatore’s face that she
was trash, strewn in the midst of the beautiful people. For the evening, it was
her job to clean up nicely.

“Aren’t you going to open it?”

He seemed eager for her reaction, making
Phoebe’s stomach churn with apprehension. What if she had misjudged his
intentions? If she opened the box to find a revealing, tasteless dress, it
would mean he intended to parade her in front of his friends the way he saw
her. What other reason could there be for his anxiousness?

With reluctant fingers, she opened the
white bow on the black box, telling herself she wouldn’t allow any trace of
emotion to cross her face regardless of what she found inside. Despite her
determination to remain stoic, she thought she might have smiled briefly upon
tracing her fingers over the name embossed on the box with real gold thread.

A gasp of delight escaped her when she
lifted out the red dress. It was long, designed to fall to her feet, with a
single shoulder strap. Strategically placed sequins gave it a sparkle
appropriate for evening wear, but it was a basically a simple design. She knew
it would be lovely, giving her an elegant appearance.

Her face fell when she remembered she was
to be a tool used to irk Salvatore and nothing more. What pleasure she’d felt
at seeing the dress faded, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She looked up
at Luca. “May I have privacy to prepare, or do you insist on hovering beside me
every minute of the day?”

For a second, his expression reflected
disappointment. “I will leave you to it.” He set a box on the dresser with a
hard thump. “The salesclerk must have included this with the order. I assume it
will accent the dress in some manner.”

Phoebe had the urge to apologize, sensing
she might have hurt his feelings. Before she could act on the impulse, he had
left the room. She debated about following him and issuing an apology, but
ultimately decided she must have been mistaken. What she had interpreted as
disappointment had probably been because she had dashed any hopes he might have
had of a pre-party tumble in the massive bed.

A smaller box revealed a pair of red
stilettos that made her gulp at contemplating walking in them. They were higher
than any she’d worn before.

Remembering the box he’d dropped on the
dresser, she walked over to open it. Her mouth opened in an O of surprise. The
salesclerk had excellent taste. He or she had included a pendant on a white
gold chain. A large ruby dominated the pendant, while small diamonds around the
diameter emphasized the ruby’s sparkle.

With a shake of her head, she returned the
necklace to the dresser, aware that time was ticking away. After a quick
shower, she applied makeup, wound her hair into an elegant chignon and slipped
on undergarments. With a shiver of anticipation, she imagined Luca removing the
garter belt and stockings later that night.

The shoes and dress were a perfect fit. To
her surprise, the shoes were more comfortable than they’d appeared in the box,
though the height was challenging. Upon examining herself in the full-length
mirror in his walk-in closet, she decided her original assessment had been
correct. The dress was sophisticated, not tawdry, and it made her look suitable
for high society.

Phoebe returned to the bedroom and removed
the necklace from the jeweler’s box. Her hands shook so badly that she couldn’t
fasten the clasp, and she sat on the edge of the bed, breathing deeply. Tonight
promised to be an ordeal, but she had to get through it. Nervousness served no
productive function. She had to get herself together.

The pep talk did little to ease her nerves,
and she still couldn’t fasten the necklace. With a long sigh, she got to her
feet and left his bedroom, in search of her boss. She found Luca in the
apartment’s living room, a crystal glass on the table beside him. He appeared
to be in deep thought and his unguarded expression revealed several emotions
she had no time to analyze before he became aware of her presence. His face lost
all trace of emotion. “That was fast,” he said, getting to his feet.

She shrugged. “I can’t get this thing
fastened.” He walked toward her and she extended the pendant. Arcs of
electricity flared when their hands touched during the transfer and she had to
hold her breath when he stepped behind her to place the necklace.

Once he’d fastened the clasp, he cupped her
bared shoulders instead of stepping away. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.” She started to step away, but
his hands tightened slightly, making her freeze.

“It will drive Salvatore crazy,” said Luca,
with a hint of amusement. His breath caressed the back of her neck. “Me too.”
He lowered his hand from her shoulder to cup her breast, thumbing the nipple
until it beaded into a hard bud. “As beautiful as you are in this gown, I still
can’t wait to strip it from you.”

Phoebe struggled to keep her thoughts
focused as he played with her breast. “Luca…” She moaned when he squeezed the
soft globe. “Um, I…” With a cough, she cleared her throat, and her passion-fogged
mind. “Do you want to take the time for me to get dressed again later? If not,
you’d better stop.”

He nibbled on her neck, but his hand fell
from her breast. A moment later, he straightened and stepped away. “We should
be on our way.”

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t smile,
uncertain how he might take her mirth. With all the misunderstandings between
them, he’d probably think she was amused at having some kind of control over
him, or at his weakness for her.

A private car took them from his apartment
in Midtown East to Salvatore’s sprawling home in the Upper East Side. The old
man wasn’t content with an apartment in one of the exclusive buildings
overlooking Central Park. Instead, he had purchased the entire building and
converted it into a palatial estate suitable for an Italian duke of the past.

As she exited the car in the private
parking garage, Phoebe admitted the comparison was apt. The Androttis had royal
lineage, and the old bastard still liked to pretend he had the same power over
people that his ancestors had wielded. It turned her stomach to know he had
that kind of power over her life—or the power to ruin her life, at least. She
had ended up doing almost exactly what Salvatore had wanted. His plans hadn’t
eliminated her from Luca’s life, but they had effectively prevented his son
from ever wanting more than sex from the lowly personal assistant.

Luca took her arm to lead her into the
foyer, through to the salon, where Salvatore sat in the center of his court.
She rolled her eyes at the way the old man sat in his wheelchair, as though it
were a throne.
It would be nice to crown him,
she thought with a slight
giggle. Thankfully, the cacophony of voices in the throng covered the sound
before her companion heard.

On his arm, Phoebe endured the next hour,
meeting countless new people whose names she forgot as soon as they moved to
the next group. Her stomach clenched when they finally made it near Salvatore,
surrounded by several people. She schooled her face into an expressionless
mask, though her nerves threatened to make her throw up all over the man’s lap.

He greeted Luca with an incline of his head
and didn’t spare a glance for her, to her relief. She pasted on a polite smile,
the same one she’d used all evening, as Luca began introducing her to the
others surrounding his father. Her attention sharpened when he introduced
Signor
Capro Giovanni. He was a short, stout man, with dark eyes full of kindness and
a gleaming bald head.

He kissed her hand, to her embarrassment.
“Miss Sanders, I feel like I already know you.”

She smiled. “I know what you mean, since
we’ve spoken so often.”

The next introduction was to
Signora
Gemma Giovanni, a tall, thin woman, probably a decade younger than her husband.
Her glossy black hair, streaked liberally with gray, was scraped back in a
severe bun. She curled her lip and nodded in Phoebe’s direction.

The last introduction caught her
attention—mainly because of the way the woman was staring at Luca, as though
she wanted to devour him. Caprice Giovanni was stunning, with a golden-brown
complexion, dark eyes and black hair just as thick and glossy as her mother’s.
Like Phoebe, she wore a red dress, but the similarities ended with color. Hers
was short and tight, displaying a generous amount of her full bosom and a long
expanse of leg. The other woman looked right through her, ignoring the
introduction.

Phoebe made small talk with
Signor
Giovanni for several minutes, finding he was as warm and pleasant in person as
he had always been on the phone and through email. His wife remained at his
side without speaking, her gaze wandering around the assemblage, as though
looking for something more interesting. Or someone.

With a start, Phoebe realized Luca no
longer stood beside her. Caprice was absent too. She cast her gaze around the
room, looking for him. From the corner of her eye, she saw
Signora
Giovanni leading
Signor
Giovanni across the room, toward the governor.
Her heart hammered in her ears when she found herself alone with Salvatore. She
steeled herself for a continuation of hostilities.