HIS SECRET HEIRESS

THE BOARD MEETING

CHAPTER 4: THE BOARD MEETING

"Wear this."

The garment bag hit the bed with a soft thud at 7:30 AM sharp.

I was already awake. I hadn’t slept. Not really.

Not with Lorenzo De Luca breathing in the bed next to me all night.

I sat up slowly. My silk nightgown slipping off one shoulder.

Lorenzo’s eyes tracked the movement. Dark. Hungry. Then back to my face.

"What is it?" I asked. My voice was rough from sleep.

"Armor," he said.

He was already dressed. Black Tom Ford suit. No tie.

White shirt open at the collar. Like he wanted the world to see the scar on his neck.

Like he wanted them to know he was dangerous and didn’t care who knew it.

He ran a hand through his damp hair. Just got out of the shower.

"I have a board meeting at 9. You’re coming."

I blinked. "I don't do board meetings, Mr. De Luca."

"You're Mrs. De Luca now," he corrected. He crossed the room in two steps and picked up the bag.

Held it out to me. "And Mrs. De Luca does whatever I tell her to do."

I took the bag. Heavy. Expensive.

I unzipped it slowly.

Blood red.

A silk slip dress. Backless. With a slit that went up to the thigh.

It probably cost more than my tuition. More than my old apartment.

And it was designed to destroy men.

"I’m not wearing that," I said immediately.

Lorenzo laughed. It was a low, dark sound.

"Yes, you are."

He took the dress from me. Held it up to my body.

His knuckles brushed my collarbone. I shivered.

"Turn around," he ordered.

I did.

I felt him behind me. So close.

The dress slid down over my head. Silk on skin.

His fingers accidentally-on-purpose brushed the bare skin of my back as he zipped me up.

Slow. Deliberate.

"Perfect," he murmured. Right in my ear.

I could feel his breath on my neck. "Now shoes."

30 minutes later we were in the back of a black Bentley.

Tinted windows. Two guards in front.

Lorenzo next to me, one arm stretched along the back of the seat.

Not touching me. But claiming the space.

The dress rode up. I tugged it down.

"Stop," Lorenzo said.

I froze. "What?"

"Fidgeting. You look nervous. Don’t."

"I'm not nervous," I lied.

He turned to me. His eyes dragged down my body.

From my red lips to the slit in the dress to my bare legs.

"Yes, you are. And you have every right to be.

Because in 20 minutes, 12 men are going to see you and think they can have you."

My stomach dropped. "Then why bring me?"

"Because," he said. His hand came down and covered my knee.

Warm. Heavy. "I want them to see what happens to men who touch what's mine."

His hand stayed there. All the way to De Luca Tower.

---

The building was 60 floors of glass and intimidation.

My reflection looked back at me in every surface.

Red dress. Pale face. Lorenzo's wife.

The boardroom was worse.

One massive table. Black wood. 12 chairs. 12 men.

All in their 60s and 70s. All worth billions. All looking at me like I was a problem.

Whispers started the second we walked in.

Lorenzo didn't let go of me.

His hand settled on the small of my back.

Burning through the silk.

"Gentlemen," his voice cut through the room. "This is my wife. Isabella De Luca."

Silence. Then more whispers. Louder.

Mr. Russo stood up first. 70. Cigar breath. Beady eyes.

"Mrs. De Luca," he said, looking me up and down. Slow. "What a... lovely surprise."

Lorenzo's hand on my back tightened.

"Say it again," he said. Soft. Too soft.

Russo paled. "I—I meant no disrespect, Mr. De Luca."

"Sit. Down," Lorenzo said.

The meeting started.

Stocks. Acquisitions. Money with too many zeros.

I understood maybe 10% of it.

But I understood Lorenzo's thumb.

Drawing slow circles on my lower back. Under the table.

Where no one could see.

Every time Russo opened his mouth, the circles stopped.

Every time Russo shut up, they started again.

It was torture. Exquisite torture.

My cheeks were burning. My hands were clenched in my lap.

After 2 hours, Lorenzo stood.

The room went silent.

"Meeting adjourned," he said. "And Russo?"

"Yes, Mr. De Luca?"

Lorenzo leaned forward. Both hands on the table.

"Touch my wife with your eyes again and I will take them.

Then I will send them to your grandchildren in a box."

You could hear a pin drop.

In the elevator down, I was shaking.

Adrenaline. Fear. Something else.

"Was that necessary?" I whispered.

Lorenzo cornered me against the glass wall.

The city 50 floors below us. Everyone could see in.

"Yes," he said. His mouth was at my ear.

"Because now they know. You are mine.

And I burn cities for what's mine, Isabella.

Remember that."

The doors opened.

He walked out.

Leaving me breathless. Furious.

And wanting him to do it again.