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Arlo flashed a rare smile. “Your grandfather had to pull a lot of strings to make your little stunt disappear.”
“I only have one regret.”
He cocked his head at me. “And what is that?”
“I should have burned down the studio with her inside.”
His gaze traveled over to his sons, who had been quiet, listening to us as they ate their salads. They all gave me pleased looks. I hid my inner crazy behind pretty dresses and fake smiles. But in some ways, I was just like them.
Arlo’s dark eyes flared with excitement. “All in due time, Alexandrea.”
What the hell does that mean?
“You have a lot more in common with Eva than you think,” Arlo confirmed with a somber expression. “She had a lot of fire. Passion.”
“Anger fuels my passion.”
“Eva wanted a daughter,” Arlo said between bites of his salad. “It was the only thing I couldn’t give her.”
Why did I feel like he was softening me up for the final blow? With Arlo, nothing was ever simple. Much like his sons, he was only nice when he wanted something, and he was never this personal with me.
“Perhaps you will have a daughter with Luca or Marcello. It’s time for you to choose,” he insisted.
At least now I understood what would happen if I didn’t pick them.
You have more power than you think.
I shot a glance at Luca. “Your son only wants to possess me. Like a toy or a pet. Luca doesn’t want a wife. He wants someone to control. And Marcello… I’m not sure what he wants.”
Luca’s demon eyes burned a hole through me.
“Isn’t that right, Luca? You just want a plaything. Not a wife.”
“Don’t tell me what I want,” he snapped. “I don’t care if I have to break your finger to put a ring on it. You’re fucking marrying me.”
A shiver skated down my arms from his threat. “Here, I didn’t think you could get any worse.”
He slammed his fist on the table. “Don’t start with me, Drea.”
“What’s the rush to put a ring on my finger?”
“Because it’s time for us to get this over with,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I’m done playing games with you.”
I threw my hand over my heart and made a silly face. “I’m so touched by your declaration of love.”
He tipped his head back and laughed like a lunatic, like loving someone was the silliest idea he’d ever heard. “Get real. We don’t marry for love.”
He wanted to get this wedding over, produce an heir, and wash his hands of me. Our marriage was a business transaction. A deal made by rich pricks behind closed doors.
But I wanted love and respect. I wanted more than he could offer.
Rage stirred inside me like a potion brewing in a cauldron, my anger about to bubble over. “You want someone to boss around,” I fired back. “A wet hole to stick your dick in when you’re bored. Not a wife. Count me out.”
Bastian laughed. Marcello didn’t even breathe beside me. Arlo looked so pissed he might explode. And Damian—that fucking psycho—he sat back and picked at an onion roll, popping pieces into his mouth like he was eating popcorn at the movie theater.
Enjoy the show, asshole.
Luca held my gaze, his hand curled into a fist on the table.. “If I wanted a whore, I’d fuck one.”
