He pushes me in, and his fingers graze the back of my neck, contacting my skin making my whole-body hum. He unbuttons his suit jacket. I see a reflection of his gun in his waistband, but I pretend not to notice when he goes to sit down. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Angelo standing toward the back of the establishment, and the other scattered throughout.
My palms are sweaty with my nerves. I try to wipe them off on the napkin before I reach for the glass of water on the table in front of me. My lips touch the glass, my eyes connect with Enzo’s darken ones as they watch me drink. Still thirsty, I place the glass down and shift a little in my seat as our waiter stops by our table. He is dressed in a crisp white button down, with black pants and a black tie. His hair is comb back, freckles dance all over his young face.
“Good evening, Mr. And Mrs. Ricci. My name is Matteo, and I will be your server tonight.” He pulls out a note pad from behind is back and asks, “Is there any particular drink I could get for you.”
I open the menu to skim over what I would like for dinner and as a drink. Enzo’s voice makes me glance up.
“A bottle of your best red wine for the table to go with our dinner. As well as two whiskey’s, neat, two finger.” My face heats at the remembrance of the drink we shared at my birthday party. “Isabella, what would you like to order?”
My name coming off his lips sends a shiver down my back. It’s how he says it with meaning behind it.
I take one more glance at the menu and make a quick decision. “I would like the Penne Alla Vokda, please.”
The waiter smiles. “A fine choice, miss.” He turns to Enzo. “For you sir?”
“I will have the Chicken Marsala, please.” He passes his menu then reaches for mine to hand over as well.
I keep my gaze on the waiter as they leave Enzo and I.
I turn to look at my husband who has leaned back in his chair, looking at me with a grin. I lick my lips, and his eyes drop to my mine, then back up to my gaze.
“This place is beautiful,” I say looking around and trying to think of something to say or talk about with him. Our conversations have not been much since the day of the wedding.“My parents rarely ever took us out a restaurant. Children were to never be seen or heard. We were brought out when it served my parents.” Our waiter appears with our drinks and the bottle of wine.
“That’s because your father is a narcissistic bastard and will do anything that will make him look better to others.” His voice is hard when he speaks of my father. But he is not wrong at all. I reach for my whiskey and he does the same. “Tonight, we are not to spoil the evening by talking about your family or mine.” He raises his glass, and I mimic him. “We are to celebrate our marriage, learn about one another, and be present with each other’s company.” Our glasses clink. We both bring our glasses to our lips, our gazes never leaving one another, and I let the bitterness of my dark amber drink coat my mouth and tongue as it burns going down my throat.
I place my drink down and find the courage to ask the question that has been swimming around my head from our conversation on the balcony. “I want you to answer me truthfully, why did you kill Ian? Why marry me? You could have done something less barbaric.”
There’s tightness in his jaw. He has one arm on the table, swirling the liquid in his cup with his dark brown eyes locked on mine. “I never planned on marrying anyone, regardless of being the head of my family. It never appealed to me.” I cast my lids down to my fingers in my lap. “I want you to look at me when I say this.” His voice is commanding.
I do as he says.
“Your father may have thought that marrying into the Di Marco family would have been beneficial for both families. But there were discrepancies than your father was privy too. I made sure he was aware.”
I cock my head to the side. “What do you mean by some discrepancies? My father only cares about his status and money.”
His eyes are filled with secrets when he looks at me. “That is very true.” He takes a sip of his drink, and I mimic him as I take one from mine as well. “Let’s say, I had a very refine way of proving to your father that it was in his best interest for his daughter to marry into my family.”
I hate that he is talking in circles like I’m a child.
“You’re talking in circles.”
He chuckles. “That may be, but some things are best to keep hidden.”
I cross my arms in front of my chest and I can’t help his gaze flicker to my chest.
“Like I said, whiskey drinkers are filled with secrets.”
He pauses for a moment. The sides of his mouth pull into a smirk.
“I won’t lie and tell you that the night we met, your smile is what caught my attention.” He plays with the rim of the glass. “You had no idea who I was when I approached you at the bar. For all you knew I was just another business partner of your fathers, but you still spoke to a man you had no idea who I was.” His eyes darken. “I’m a man who always gets what he wants, and you were promised to another man–––a man who is my enemy. I do not take losing very well.” He lets go of his drink, reaching his hand across the table, singling for me to place mine in his. I place my left hand in his. His thumb grazes my wedding rings. “I don’t regret for a second how anything played out.”
I look down at our hands and say, “So, you thought by forcing me to marry you would be winning? You know nothing about me.” I can’t help the sourness that comes out of my mouth.
“Isabella, you can try to convince yourself that you aren’t attracted to me the way I am to you. But we both know you are.”My eyes widen and he has a firm grip of my hand. “The way your eyes lit up the night we met and how they trailed down my body like I was a piece of meat.” He grins at the last part. “The way you kissed me at the altar while covered in your ex-fiancé’s blood. The way you always find yourself wrapped around me in your sleep or how you say my name in your sleep.”
He is not wrong.
“When you pretend that you’re sleeping, I can feel your gorgeous blue eyes trailing my every move,” he pauses, brings my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on my ring. “I know everything about you, and I plan on knowing more.”
