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I hold out my hand, and he slips a full glass into it. I thrust it up to my mouth and take a large sip. A gulp, almost.
“Steady,” he says quietly. “There’s a ways to go before this day finishes, Bianca.”
I do look up then because there’s a note in his voice I don’t expect. Concern? It can’t be.
But there it is, deep behind his eyes. Concern and curiosity. No gloating and no rage.
“Why did you not do it?” He’s still speaking quietly.
“Why did I… Wait. You…knew?” How could he know what I’d been considering? What I’d almost done.
“Of course I knew. I was watching you from the upper deck.” He lifts his chin, and I follow his gaze to where more people are mingling on the higher deck above us.
“And yet you didn’t rush down here to stop me jumping? Or send your goons down to keep me in place?”
“If you run, you know what will happen. And there is nowhere you can hide from me, Bianca. I will always find you. So, I waited. I wanted to see if you would. I repeat my question. Why did you not jump over the side when you had the chance?”
I frown at him, trying to articulate my reason for not trying to escape, but in the end, I stick with the truth. “I don’t know. I wanted to. I almost did, and then, I just didn’t.”
Not much of a response, but the brief quirk of his lips at one corner shows me he isn’t too disappointed with my response. “Honesty. I like that in you, Bianca. Always be honest with me, and I will afford you the same in return.”
“All right.” I turn and face the water again, shivering as a light breeze suddenly kicks up, lifting my hair. “Are you going to kill me?”
A short chuckle is his answer.
I shoot a look up at him. “Honesty, Rio. Please.”
He leans his forearms on the railing beside me, and I wait for what feels like forever before he opens his mouth as if to answer. But then he snaps it shut again when a group of men approaches us.
One of them is his brother Nicky. Another is Carlos Rossi, the man who said he knew—and loved—my mother. I have no idea who the others are. They were probably at our wedding, but everyone’s faces were a blur yesterday.
“You can’t hog the beautiful bride all afternoon, brother. How are you doing this afternoon, Bianca? Survived the wedding night with Rio, I see.” Nicky lifts my free hand and plants a kiss on my knuckles, his lips lingering a second too long on my skin.
The gesture is strangely endearing, and an obvious challenge to Rio who seems to bristle beside me.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at the testosterone display from both of them, instead shooting a tight smile of greeting at Nicky before snatching back my hand and turning to Rossi. “How are you today, Mr. Rossi? I trust you enjoyed our…wedding?”
My voice drips with sarcasm, and for some reason, all the men laugh as if I’ve said something highly entertaining.
“Please, my dear. Call me Carlos.” He then looks at my husband. “May I steal away your bride, for a few minutes at least? Not too far. Perhaps we might take a seat just over there.”
He points toward a cushioned bench seat that offers a little shelter from the sun.
I open my mouth to agree, but Rio answers before I can get a word out. “You may. Five minutes, Rossi. There are others I wish her to meet.”
Carlos smiles, but there is no mirth in his expression. “Of course. Come, my dear.”
He crooks his arm, obviously expecting me to take it. When I do, he guides me over to the bench seat and then waits until I sit before he joins me.
“Next time, ask me directly,” I say, trying to be polite but not hiding my annoyance. “You don’t need to askhim.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t work that way in our world, Bianca.”
“So, I’m Rio’s…possessionor something? Now that we’re married? He…what?Ownsme?”
“You are his, yes.” Carlos nods calmly as if he’s simply talking about the weather.
I am his.
