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No one dismisses me.
I itch to show her who I am, to remind her that she should be afraid of me. I never should’ve touched her and let her go. She thinks she can get away with anything she wants.
I decide to give her a warning. “You don’t dismiss me, Vittoria. No one does.”
She turns to me and shakes her head. God, she’s gorgeous, all simple curves and soft, creamy skin, those feisty eyes that dare me to dominate her. I like to imagine what she’d do if I showed her what it’s like to submit.
She will.
“Oh?”
I take a step toward her. Maybe it is time she learns her place, learns what I expect. If she’s to be my wife, the sooner she learns this the better. I watched Leo spoil his pretty Sicilian princess, and I saw how that ended. I saw my father mistreat my mother, and witnessed the demise of their marriage as well. I decided long ago that marriage to me would be the best of both worlds: my wife will obey me, my wife will defer to my authority, and in return I’ll take care of her every wish and whim.
“I’m tired,” she says, shaking her head. “This has been a long day. I’m only telling you I don’t need any more explanations or tours. This room is beautiful,” she says with a weary note in her tone. “Everything about this house is simply stunning. But please try to understand that I have much to process. So much. I need some time alone.”
Maybe I’m going about this all the wrong way. She pissed me off, and I let her know it, but the reality is, I could use this to my advantage. I haven’t thought this through.
I need a woman to marry me, to wear my ring, in order to assume my throne. This is non-negotiable, one of my family’s rules that’s never broken. Both my grandfathers agreed on this one rule, and have carried it forth from generation to generation. I know why. A man with a woman by his side doesn’t make the mistakes a single man does. He has a woman to bed, to alleviate his stress, to share the burden of his throne.
He isn’t swayed by the wiles of another woman.
In theory, that is. It’s all in theory. It’s not a secret that my father had multiple partners, that their marriage bed was cold and defiled long before my mother finished having children. My grandfather was no exception.
But that won’t be me. I despise infidelity on any level.
I can’t force my way onto this woman. I can’t command her to marry me. If I try, my brothers could easily step in, marry her, then assume a position of power above mine.
Fucking archaic laws.
My father will not let this woman out of our home without marrying one of us. He’d just as soon chain her in our dungeon and force the marriage then let the legal proceedings allow any of the inheritance to go to his most despised charity.
My grandfather was a conniving son of a bitch.
I’ll have this woman researched. I’ll see who she is and why she’s here. I’ll know before the sun sets tonight whether or not she’s set me up. And in the meantime… I’ll have to start thinking things through more clearly.
I have an opportunity here I can’t fucking squander.
“You need a tour of the house,” I say in a gentler tone than I’ve used with her yet. With… honestly, anyone.
She looks at me in surprise, her eyes narrowing warily.
“Oh?”
“Oh.” I run a hand through my hair, my mind racing. She’ll think I’ve got multiple personality disorder if I start sweet-talking her now. We’ve had our first impressions, and they were utter shit. “I’ll have one of my sisters show you around. Make yourself at home. Do you need to go anywhere to pick up your belongings?”
“How do you even know I intend to stay?” she asks. She runs her fingers along her collarbone absentmindedly. A sign of vulnerability.
I’ll remember that.
I want to kiss my way down the length of her neck to where her creamy skin softens, giving way to the most perfect set of breasts…
I’ve never seduced a woman. I’ve never had to.
I’ve had women who wanted my money. Made men have their groupies like celebrities, and I’ve used women to suit my needs. But this woman… she doesn’t even know who I really am. Not yet.
I wish I could keep it that way.
By dinnertime, I’ll know more about her, but she’ll know more about me, too. And what she finds out and how she reacts will be telling.
My phone rings. I glance at the screen and frown. Tavi.
“Excuse me,” I say to her, and her eyes narrow further. She doesn’t trust the change in temperature.
