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"She’s the best candidate to fulfill Nonna’s last wish," I retort.
"Like you couldn’t have found anyone else? Any woman in the city would have offered herself up for the role, and you know it. Besides—" He looks me up and down. "Didn’t think you took Nonna’s last wish seriously?"
"Didn’t you?" I glower at him. "Isn’t that why you’re considering the arranged marriage with theCamorraprincess?"
"I haven’t said yes, yet," he shoots back. "I may not agree to it."
"But you’re thinking about it?"
He blows out a breath. "Hard not to, when Michael seems to thinks it’s the only way to bring about peace between theCamorraand theCosa Nostra."
"You’d think the old bat’s hold on us would have declined once she died, but she’s made sure, even in passing, she’s forcing us to bend to her will," I say bitterly.
"Nonna only had our best interests at heart," Massimo protests.
"Doesn’t seem that way from where I’m standing. I was happy in my single life, until she decided to put a ticking countdown timer on it."
"You could simply disregard what she asked of us," he argues.
"I’ve tried, I promise, but apparently, I’m sentimental enough to want to respect her wishes."
"By orchestrating a wedding you’re not sure of?"
"Of course I’m sure of it," I scoff
"Are you?" He widens his stance. "It looks to me like you’re in the process of trapping yourself the way our brothers did."
"Our brothers had feelings for their wives when they proposed to them."
"And you don’t?"
"Of course not."
He laughs. Thepezzo di merdathrows back his head and guffaws.
I watch him, half-amused, half-angry. "I didn't say anything that funny."
"So you claim." He wipes the tears from his cheeks. "You forget, I witnessed our brothers bullshit themselves with similar arguments, then watched as they got pussy-whipped."
He has a point, but no way I’m falling for any woman. And certainly not for one as sassy, as opinionated, as gorgeous, and as breathtaking as her.
I set my jaw. "It’s going to be different for me."
33
Jeanne
It’s going to be different for me. It has to be different for me.
Going by the strike-out rate of the people I know, I’d say that more than 50% of marriages end in divorce. This isn’t based on any scientific study, just what I see around me.
I’d always hoped things would be different for me. Call it my optimistic nature. Or rather, my romantic nature. Or perhaps, my blindly trusting nature. But my instinct has always said that when I get married, it’ll be for keeps. I’ve always thought it would be different for me. That I’d marry the man I fell in love with and live with him happily ever after. Maybe it’s my steady diet of smut novels that’s nurtured that dream in me. It’s why I can’t help that thought echoing through my mind as I reach the doors that lead to the conservatory.
I come to a standstill. What am I doing? Am I going to bind myself to a man I barely know? A man I’m attracted to, all right, but not someone for whom I harbor those kinds of feelings.
And he certainly has no such tender emotions where I’m concerned. I’m merely an asset, a convenience… Someone who happened to be there; someone with whom he confesses he senses the chemistry that I do. Someone who’ll help him get off the hook where his family is concerned. That’s all I am, a convenient prop in this game he’s playing with his nearest and dearest.
So why does everything feel so real? Why does it feel like I’m wearing my wedding dress and about to say my vows to the man of my dreams? Can this monster be my savior? Can he be the man I’ve gravitated toward my entire life?
