The smile he’s been trying so hard to fight blossoms now, just enough to transform his expression from stone cold to slightly evil with a side of hella-sexy. “Yes, Ms. Abbott, if you’re not careful it certainly can be.”
Jessica interrupts. “We can revisit this topic. In fact, let’s just scratch it all together. Next item, catering.”
Dante waves a dismissive hand. “Nonnegotiable. The menu has already been decided. The order is in.”
“Fine with me,” I say coolly.
“Okay,” Jessica says, checking it off. “Expectations of wifely duties pertaining to—”
“Also nonnegotiable.” He spears me with a look. “You’re expected to act as any wife would. Attend events by my side, host parties, decorate, plan menus, and whatever else women in this position do.”
I draw back. “I…don’t decorate. Or cook. If you’re expecting me to throw lavish parties and refresh the interior decor, I’m going to need to hire that out.”
Jessica huffs a quiet, stunted laugh. “If you’re really that inept, I’m sure we can arrange a stipend.”
“I wasn’t raised to be arm candy, sadly,” I shoot back. “I was raised to know what kinds of fertilizer help virgin vines get their best start, what time of day is ideal for harvesting grapes, how to choose the opacity of wine bottles to cure the best vintage. None of that came with cooking lessons, I’m afraid.”
Dante makes a sound and looks to his hands.
Jessica purses her lips. “Living arrangements?”
“It’s night time, by the way,” I say. “The heat of the day alters the acidity and sugar composition of the grapes. As for living arrangements, I prefer to keep my residence at my—”
“You’ll reside at Bellanti House, with me,” Dante interrupts.
I don’t like that one bit. Attempting to assert myself, I say, “Well, maybe I can split my time between there and my father’s house—”
“Absolutely not,” my fiancé says.
This is pointless. Dante and Jessica are overriding my every thought. But that doesn’t mean I’m going down without a fight. I can still lay down some boundaries.
I tilt my head. “Fine, then I want my own rooms.”
“Perfect! No sharing a bed,” Jessica agrees flippantly, jotting it on her paper. Dante and I both look at her. Her eyebrows jet up, her porcelain cheeks growing pink.
Dante says, “Thank you, Jessica. That will be all for this evening. You may go.”
She smiles, not budging. “Why don’t I just write down which rooms you’d prefer Francesca to take? That way I can be sure the decorators…”
Her voice trails off as Dante levels her with a stare. Her attempts to backpedal have clearly failed.
Seeing Dante’s narrowed eyes, my stomach drops—and the look wasn’t even meant for me. Jessica’s throat moves quickly as she swallows hard, puts on a tight smile, and gathers her things. With a nod, she scurries for the door, just as the waiter appears with a tray of appetizers.
“We didn’t order yet—” I start to say, but Dante waves away my comment.
“I took care of it.”
The food smells delicious, but my insides are so twisted up, I’m not sure I can partake of any of it. “Of course you did.”
The waiter refills our wineglasses and leaves us. Dante turns to me. It’s the most he’s been fully attuned to me since he got here. His dark eyes on me. His powerful body angled toward me. His attention, one-hundred percent on me. I’m afraid and turned on at the same time.
“Now, then.” His voice is seductively low and edged with gravel. “I expect an heir. We will have children, thus we will be sharing a bed.”
A pang hits me between the legs and I have the sudden urge to squeeze my thighs together. He hasn’t come close to touching me, yet my mind wants to prance around with sudden dirty thoughts of this man putting a baby in me. Ridiculous.
“You have brothers,” I point out. “They can provide an heir. I see no need for us to have anything beyond a marriage of convenience.”
“The Bellanti name will live on throughmyline.”
