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“It shouldn’t even have to be something you needed to reassure me.”
“I needed you to know,” he combats. “My reputation does what it needs to for work. I don’t need that fear filtering into my marriage.”
“So you wouldn’t kill me?”
He turns his head slowly, the distaste in his eyes evident. “Bianca, don’t be fooled by any kindness I show you. If you betray me, I will kill you, and I won’t feel fucking bad about it.”
He looks away quickly.
“I disagree.”
“Which part?”
“I don’t doubt you’d kill me,” I assure him. “But you’d feel bad about it.”
“Loyalty and honesty are of the utmost importance to me. Don’t ever forget that.” The harsh warning in his tone has me shifting uncomfortably in my seat. “You break my trust, and any affection I feel for you will disappear. I’d slit your throat without a beat of hesitation and sleep peacefully knowing I removed a threat to my freedom and my family.”
I swallow. The movement thick enough to be heard through the quiet car.
“And who said romance was dead?” I joke, hating the lilt of danger in his tone.
He ignores the silly remark, keeping his eyes focused on the winding road. I follow his lead, turning my attention to the tree-lined road, watching them flash by in blurs of greens and browns.
Am I stupid to fixate on the offhanded comment he made about holding affection for me? Have I already fallen into a blinded sense of fairy tale? Pleased that the monster beside me admitted he felt something for me? Or maybe I should be more grateful. When I look deeper, Vincent saved my life. From what I can gather, he wasn’t forced into marrying me. He chose to do so. But why?
“I would never betray you.”
He doesn’t respond.
“Why did you marry me?”
He doesn’t answer.
I clear my throat, hating how meek my words sound. The leather of the seat sticks to my skin, my body clammy. He can threaten me with death, and my heart rate increases, but I question his feelings, and it feels ready to commit suicide by launching from my chest and throwing itself out the window into moving traffic.
“I am no one to you. Lorenzo could’ve killed me, and you wouldn’t have the burden of me in your life. My question is why? Why me when you could have kept your freedom?”
His right hand lifts from the steering wheel, his index finger rubbing at the thick metal band on his thumb. He leans away from me, his left elbow resting on the line of his window. “I don’t see our marriage as a lack of freedom.” Tongue darting out to wet his lips, he falls quiet again.
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I admire you,” he murmurs, low enough that I barely hear the words.
“You don’t know me.” My head tilts to the side, my lips pursed.
“I know enough.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I can’t think of anything to say. I close it again with a soft shake of my head.
“I never imagined I’d marry.” He speaks again, and I listen intently. “I was an enforcer. What woman in their right mind would want to be linked to me?”
“Daughters of the Mafia have no choice.”
“That is true,” he agrees. “But still, I felt it wasn’t for me. When Lorenzo offered me a different life, my options broadened. I needed a strong woman. Someone who was and who will always remain loyal. A partner who would put their life on the line for what they deemed important.”
“You?” I test quietly.
“Me,” he confirms. “If I am to lay down my life for someone, is it wrong to want the same thing in return?”
