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They can’t be all bad, I reason.
No. I stop myself from the mental gymnastics of defending them. They are not the family I need.
Marialena, though… and Rosa.. little Natalia, crazy Nonna, and jovial Mario… I shake my head as if to clear my mind, but all I can think about is how nice it would be to be safe, protected, cared for, and accepted just as I am.
It isn’t real, though. Like a house made of gingerbread, it would dissolve with the first storm, crumbling to the ground. It isn’t real, and it’s luring me to meet my demise.
“Do you live here?” I ask. I want to change the subject, but I also just want to know.
“Among other places, yes.”
I’m stalling, but I have so many questions that need answers.
“Where else do you live?”
“I own a condo in Boston and a home in Tuscany, though all of us have primary residences here at The Castle as well.”
I nod. Makes sense. A man of his stature and privilege won’t exactly be bringing women home to Mama here. He’d take a woman to his fancy condo to seduce her, fuck her… why does that thought make my belly twist uncomfortably?
“So what’s the catch?”
He adjusts me so I’m closer to his chest, and I’m suddenly so tired I want to curl right up here and go to sleep. I don’t, though. I hold myself aloof, apart from him, my back ramrod straight.
“The catch?”
“Yeah. What’s in it for me? Let’s say I do this. I’m rich, I’ve got clothes and cars and shoes and hot sex with my hot husband. What’s the catch?” I can’t keep the sardonic tone out of my voice.
His fingers skate up my back to my neck and tighten at the very base of it. He flexes, and I shiver. “You’d obey me, Vittoria.”
I guessed as much, seeing as I just got spanked. I nod.
“You’re one of those guys, then.”
“Those guys?”
“You like… control. You want to be in charge.”
“I didn’t know there was a category of guys like us.” If he’s amused, he hides it well. His eyes spark with something like anger, but I’m not quite sure.
“Some men prefer to be… modern. On equal footing. And some believe it’s their way or the highway,” he says.
His fingers on the back of my neck soothe, stroke, and flex. It’s oddly erotic.
“And some,” he says almost thoughtfully, “like absolute control. My wife will take my name. My wife will speak with respect and not out of turn. My wife will wear the clothes I choose, eat the foods I choose, and do what she’s told.”
“I see.” I tense under the stroke of his fingers on my neck. “Why?”
“Why?”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. He’s so matter-of-fact about the utter control he’d have over his future wife it’s unnerving. I cringe.
“Why do you choose to have such control over your wife? Why not choose a more modern approach?”
His eyes darken, and the slow downward curl of his lips stokes fire in my belly. I’m not sure why.
“That’s a conversation for another day, Vittoria. For now, you and I will get ready.”
He slides me off his lap, the rough fabric of his pants scraping against my ass. I quickly right myself. Voices sound in the hallway, women’s and men’s voices, and the unmistakable voice of Narciso Rossi. I don’t realize I take a step closer to Romeo until he clasps my hand. I blink in surprise.
“You shot out my tires,” I whisper, as if waking from a dream and remembering this man is no friend of mine.
He nods. “My father would’ve hurt you, possibly killed you. Ensuring you wouldn’t run was more of a safety measure for you than anything.”
An interesting way of looking at things.
He glances at his phone, still scowling, those full lips of his making my heart do crazy, wild flips. I imagine what it would be like to feel those lips on me again. What it would be liked to be kissed by him, not just a brief brush of lips, but more. I wonder what it would be like to be pinned beneath him as he took me, or on my knees while he took me from behind. Being around him makes every erotic fantasy I’ve ever had resurface because something tells me there’s nothing Romeo wouldn’t do.
“Now, bella,” he says in a gentler tone. “Please get ready for this evening. The priest is coming from the church, and you and I will take our vows.”
“Excuse me?”
He turns to the door as his phone rings. He answers it on the second ring and holds a finger up for me to be patient.
Take our vows?
Just like that? He thinks this is some sort of a business transaction? That I’m marrying him?
Oh no. Uh uh. I don’t think so. A part of me wants to flee again, but I’ve already seen firsthand that’s likely not a very good idea.
