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“Well, I mean—itcan’t,” Matteo insists. “You can’t work. It’s just—not done.”
I press my lips together, trying to hold back my response. He’s right, of course. Even my father wouldn’t have supported my going out and creating a career for myself. The security implications, the safety protocols, and even just the optics of the daughter of one of the three most powerful men in Chicago holding an ordinary job would be impossible. But sitting across from any of theseboysand having them explain to me how I will never be allowed to have a career of any sort, whether I want to or not.
“I know,” I finally say tightly. “But I want to pursue my interests regardless. And I plan to.”
No one really seems to know what to say—except Andre, of course, who swirls his wine in his glass and arches an eyebrow. “Unless your husband says otherwise, of course.”
“I’d have to pick you first.” The words come out sharp and biting, and I see Alessio tense next to me, but I can’t stop myself. I’m too upset. “You weren’t even invited.”
“I was.” Andre takes a careless sip of his wine. “Just not by you. Don Fontana told me to attend. Which I think supersedes the authority of anyone else here, yes?” He raises an eyebrow.
So Alessio was right.There’s a tense silence around the table, which is broken only by the staff coming in to sweep away the appetizers and replace them with a soup course. For a little while, it’s only broken by the clinking of spoons against china, until Tommas Lombardi speaks up, telling me about his family’s vineyard in Italy, which is apparently second only to the Agosti vineyards.
It’s a tedious dinner. I learn just enough about each of them to know that while a few of my choices might not make me miserable—given my own choice in the matter entirely, I wouldn’t pick any of them.
But then again, they’re all being held up against the impossible standard of Alessio, who I’ve wanted since I was fifteen, and who I only want even more now.
I barely taste any of the meal, even though I know it must be delicious. I can’t even taste the dessert, which is a rich chocolate mousse with fresh raspberries on it, one of my favorites, but all I can think about is the steadily growing knot in my stomach, the feeling that all of this is going to go so terribly wrong. That no matter what I choose—who—I’m going to end up with a husband who will want to control all of my choices going forward, all of my life. Who will have expectations I’ll have to fulfill, no matter what my own desires are.
Alessio promised me that I’d still be able to go to college and live my life the way my father and I planned, even though I’m being pushed into marriage. Buthowwill he help me make that a reality? My husband will be the don. He will go back to working for Luca Romano—or something else entirely. I realize, sitting there in a cloud of steadily growing dread, that while Alessio mightwantto protect me, that he might think he can accomplish it even without marrying me, it is, in fact, the only way that he could ever really keep me safe the way he says he wants to.
And it’s the only thing he absolutely refuses to do.
I can see the flickers of jealousy in his eyes when the Lombardi twins flirt with me, when Carlo asks me about my favorite books, when Matteo describes the summer house he wants to take me to—alone, he adds pointedly—if he’s my choice. I canseethat he hates the idea of any of these other men having possession of me, touching me, taking me for their own. But as far as I can tell, that changes nothing.
The moment the last guest leaves, I turn to Alessio from where we’re standing at the foot of the staircase. “I don’t want to marry any of them,” I whisper.
His expression is harder than I’ve seen it before when he looks at me, his jaw set. “You’ll have to,” he says finally. “Fontana has made it plain, by sending Andre here, that he won’t suffer delays. Hewillmarry you to Andre Leone if we don’t make our own choice within the timeframe he’s given.”
My choice would be you.I swallow hard. “I don’t—I can’t—”
“You have to.” Alessio’s tone is ruthless. “Unless you want to be married to that prick. Which means keeping your pretty mouth shut and smiling and minding your manners. Do you understand, Gianna? I can’t make this work in your favor if you insist on having outbursts at the dinner table—”
“You know why!” I stare at him, disbelieving. He’s never spoken to me this way before, and what scares me more is that I can see the fear behind it. He’s unsure if he can manage this as well as he expected, if he can keep me as safe as he meant to. The ground under his feet isn’t as stable as he wants me to believe.
“You need to be careful, Gianna, if you want to be the one choosing.”
“What happened to the lessons?” I narrow my eyes at him. “You promised, in exchange for my cooperation. It’s been a week—”
“I have to think about that.” Alessio’s jaw tightens. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate—”
“So now you’re a liar?” I can hear my voice rising, the words coming out more hurtful than I mean for them to be. “So now you’re just going to go back on your word and throw me to the wolves? Why should I trust that you can protect me at all? You wouldn’t do what my father asked, and now you won’t help me make sure that one of these men will want me, that I’ll know what to do so I won’t be so scared. You could have fixedallof this, and you won’t! You promised to teach me, and you—”
Alessio’s eyes are blazing, anger in them that I’ve never seen before. The muscle in his jaw leaps as he looks down at me, and it’s enough to make me stop talking abruptly, my heart hammering in my chest in mingled desire and fear.
“You want a lesson?” His voice is deadly quiet. “Maybe it’s time for a different kind of lesson, Gianna. One that you’ll remember the next time you’re at dinner with the men who will decide your future.”
His hand closes around my elbow as he marches me across the foyer, towards the door that leads into his office. My heart is in my throat, my breath catching as he closes the door behind him, flipping on a light that bathes the room in a soft glow. The curtains are still open to the large window that overlooks the backyard, and if someone walked past, they could see us, standing there in front of Alessio’s desk.
“No doubt your husband will do the same as I’m about to, if you defy him,” Alessio says quietly. “I hadn’t planned on this, but perhaps it’s best if you find out first from me.”
I have no idea what he means. My pulse is fluttering wildly, fear on the verge of overtaking me, but there’s excitement, too. I don’t understand it, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but there’s excitement in that, too.
“Turn around,” Alessio says, his voice hard, but there’s an underlying current of something else, too. “Face the desk.”
I swallow hard, and for a moment, I think of disobeying. I wonder what will happen if I do. And then slowly, very slowly, I turn to face his desk.
“Pick your dress up,” Alessio instructs. “Just the back of it. Up to your waist.”
