Page 30 of The Don’s Omega

Mrs. Foschini gives her youngest a chiding glance. “You worry too much, Noemi. So long as Marcello and Elio dance with each other and kiss a few times, people will be only too willing to believe the marriage is real. They have no reason to suspect it isn’t.”

“Exactly,” Ginevra says. “And when Marcello gets Elio pregnant, that will seal the deal. The old alphas who tried to cause trouble will have to back down.”

I don’t love being talked about like a broodmare, but isn’t that what I essentially am? I made my bed, and now I have to lie in it. Literally.

After dinner, I say my goodnights and go back to my room. For some reason, Marcello insists on walking with me. I’m not sure why and I’d have preferred it if he didn’t. He makes me nervous and I’m too tired to deal with him. It’s been a long, nerve-wracking day. I just want to escape into sleep and pretend this isn’t my life.

We reach my bedroom door. “Well, goodnight.” I start to enter my room, but he puts his hand on my arm. I meet his gaze questioningly.

“You did well tonight,” he says softly. “My family likes you, I can tell.”

Surprised he’s trying to reassure me, I frown. “Does it matter if they like me? Nothing would change even if they hated me. We’d still go through with the marriage because it’s just business, right?”

“Well, yes.” He wrinkles his brow. “But life will be better for you if they like you. And they do.”

“Okay, well, thank you for telling me, I guess.”

He studies me. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” I laugh gruffly. “What do you mean?”

His gaze is assessing. “You seem grumpier than usual.”

“How would you know? You have no idea what I’m usually like.”

He frowns. “See, that’s not like you. You’re not generally so snippy.”

I let out a tired breath. “I’m just exhausted, Marcello. Don’t worry. You don’t have to handle me. I’m not having second thoughts.”

“I know that. You’d never back out of our deal because of Fabio.” His eyes flicker and he seems uncertain of what he wants to say next. After a moment, he says, “I’m sure you feel very alone right now. Is there anything I can do to make this situation easier for you?”

Is he hinting he wants sex?

“No,” I say warily. “I don’t need anything from you.”

He frowns. “Why are you being so rude?”

“Why are you being so nice all of a sudden?” I counter, eyeing him suspiciously. “I don’t need a pity fuck if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

His mouth hardens. “Are you serious? You think I’m insinuating I want sex?” He lets out a disgusted sound. “I was trying to see if you needed anything to help you settle in. I know you must be very stressed.”

“Since when do you care about things like that where I’m concerned?” I huff. “You’re usually an a…” My voice trails off.

He narrows his eyes. “What? I’m usually an asshole?”

If the shoe fits.

“Marcello—”

He holds up his hands. “Never mind. Goodnight, Elio. Forgive me for giving a shit. Sleep well.” He turns and heads down the hallway toward the stairs.

I watch him go feeling bewildered. If I didn’t know better, I’d say his feelings were hurt. But how can that be? He’s made it very clear he doesn’t care what I think of him. Yet, as I watch him stride away, I can’t shake the feeling that what I said actually bothered him.

And I have absolutely no idea how that can be possible.

****

The morning of the wedding, I wake up disoriented. For about three seconds, I think I’m back in my apartment in Millhaven. Then I open my eyes and the carved headboard and expensive soft linen sheets bring reality crashing down on me. I’m getting married today to a man I barely know. A mobster. A thug. A self-centered alpha who I’ve pledged my life to for the next three years.