PunishingPhoebe by Kit Tunstall Page A

“You’re right. I apologize, Luca.” Phoebe didn’t look at Salvatore.
    He didn’t bother to wait for his father to
issue an apology, apparently realizing it would be an exercise in futility.
Instead, he took the file from her before turning fully to his father. “What
brings you by, Papà?”
    “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