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I clear my throat. “It was, uh, pretty good. I visited my nonna.”
“Ah, that makes sense. I was wondering why you were able to stay gone for so long, but I guess your dad was letting you visit with family. Otherwise, I assume he would’ve dragged you home immediately.”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
“I bet you enjoyed your time with your nonna better than you would’ve enjoyed your time with my brother.” His smile is disarming, and I can tell he means that comment to be a joke.
But it only makes me more uncomfortable. “I wasn’t trying to insult anyone,” I say softly, staring down at my teacup. I knew this would come up and I practiced how I’d respond in the mirror already. “Running away was a big mistake. Please give Don Rossi my most sincere apologies.” I’m the perfect image of the demure mafia daughter. It’s gross and awful, but it’s what he’ll expect.
Instead, Saul surprises me. “Did your father tell you to say that? Sounds like something he scripted.”
I look up, eyes wide with panic. “No, not at all. Seriously, that didn’t come from him.”
“Okay, sure.” He’s grinning and looks more amused than upset. “Honestly, don’t worry about Renzo. He’s pretty happy with how things worked out. He and Maddie are close.”
“Really? They’re actually in love? There are a lot of rumors about those two.”
“Seriously, he’s head over heels. I think you running away was the best thing that ever happened to him.”
“Alright then, I take it back. Tell Renzo I said, you’re welcome.”
Saul laughs and I smile back. He has a nice laugh: deep and resonant with little creases at the corners of his eyes.
“I feel like I should be clear about something from the start, okay? I don’t expect anything of you. We have to get married, and that means we’ll start a family together but beyond that, your life will be your own.”
I ease back into the couch and cross my legs. Saul seems completely sincere, but I’m a little skeptical. Mafia guys aren’t exactly known for their liberal views of modern relationships, but what he’s saying is pretty appealing. We’ll have kids together, and maybe we’ll form a bond, but if we don’t—that wouldn’t be the end of the world.
“Does that mean you’ll have mistresses?” I say casually, eyebrows raised.
“I won’t insult you and pretend like that’s not an option. I can also promise that I will be discreet and I won’t ever embarrass you.”
“Wow, I’m practically swooning over here.”
He laughs and now I can see the tension in his face. “I want to be honest with you. Maybe there’s something here between us and maybe there isn’t. I’m just saying, you’re not my property and you’re not my prisoner.”
“Does that mean I don’t have to marry you?” I deliver the question with a soft smile, as if I’m kidding, but we both know I’m not.
He presses his lips together and shakes his head. “We both know that’s not an option.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“I’ll treat you well, Allegra. I promise. So long as you understand how this works.”
I drink my tea. He’s studying me again with that cold look of his. Saul’s handsome and he’s funny, and I believe him when he says he’ll treat me well—but I feel nothing for the man. No spark, no joy, no excitement.
I can already see how my life will go. The babies, the schooling, the domestic grind. He and I might be friends, but we’ll never be lovers except for the few times it takes to get me pregnant. He’ll have his women on the side, and I might even have a man or two, but the specter of getting caught will weigh doubly on my head. I’ll be trapped, even if he says I’m not his prisoner.
He knows as well as I do what happens to women who go outside their marriages in our world. Men get a pass—but not the wives.
Which means he might be free to explore other romantic attachments, but I’ll never have more.
But it isn’t so bad. There are girls in my situation who have it so much worse. There are drinking husband, abusive husbands, gambling husbands and worse. Men who cut with words worse than they hurt with their hands. Saul doesn’t seem the type, at least not yet. It could be worse.
“Alright, Mr. Rossi,” I say falling back into my demure role. “I suppose that’s not such a bad deal.”
He looks relieved. “Why don’t we spend the rest of our time together getting to know each other? You went to Blackwoods, right? Tell me what you studied.”
The conversation moves on from there. Saul’s kind and even makes me laugh a few more times, but that excitement never builds and can’t go anywhere. He’s a dead end, romance-wise. I knew it from the second I touched his hand. No spark, no attraction. He’s handsome, very good looking, but he’s not?—
