AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In the forty-eight hours since I saidI doto Amalie, I feel like my life has become even more complicated than it was before.
This was a mistake. I haven’t stopped thinking that since I brought her here for our wedding night, and every moment since has just underscored that feeling. My desire for her constantly wars with my irritation about how unwilling she is to try to settle in to her new home, to try to do anything for herself, to not constantlypoutabout having been pulled out of her former life.This was always going to be her future,I think on repeat, every time she seems unhappy.Was she really that deluded to think she wouldn’t end up married to someone she didn’t necessarily want?
The pregnancy was just another wrench thrown into a situation that I already regretted allowing myself to get tangled up in. I haven’t been sure if I believed her story that she was a virgin when we first slept together in Ibiza, and this makes me wonder even more. And itmattersif the baby is mine or not, for reasons beyond just my own ego.
Our children will have my name and inherit the Carravella family fortune, homes, and legacy. I refuse to have that passed on to the child of some trust-fund asshole that Amalie fucked on vacation, whose name she probably doesn’t even remember…who likely doesn’t remember hers, either.
When I came home last night, I brought home some things that she’d be able to eat without having to learn how to cook, in hopes that would at least improve her mood. She’s right that I need to hire some staff, but I simply haven’t needed to until now. I’ve been fine on takeout when I haven’t been out of the country, and I’m reminded that now I have someone else besides myself that I have to worry about. Not to mention—I like the privacy and solitude of not having housekeepers and cooks and gardeners bustling around. It’s bad enough having the workers who are renovating the house in and out constantly, and I’ll never be free of the security detail that’s a requirement for a man in my position. That security detail has increased now, too, because of Amalie and the need to be certain she’s safe.
Amalie has turned my life upside down in a matter of days. I had my life carefully arranged the way I liked it. Now, her presence combined with that disruption has only added to my resentment towards her. I knew I would have to marry—but I had hoped it would be someone who understood that it was meant to be a marriage of necessity. Someone who would keep to herself, manage her own affairs, and only interact with me when necessary. Possibly even someone self-sufficient enough to not need a household full of staff to attend to her every need as soon as possible.
All of this would be much easier if she could just take care of herself, but I’m not entirely sure that she’s capable of it. On the other hand, though, I think to myself as I dress, hiring staff might mean she finally leaves me alone. They could provide a buffer for me, taking care of her needs and wants so that I don’t have to hear about them. It might be the only way I’ll manage to live the separate lives I’d hoped for, while existing in the same house.
There’s only one wayto find out,I think grimly as I come downstairs for breakfast. She came to bed last night after I’d already fallen asleep, and to my surprise, she was gone this morning when I woke up. I’d had the thought that she might have tried to run off, and the sharp prick of fear that I felt at that idea startled me.
I told myself that it’s only the prospect of how utterly furious and disappointed my father would be that made me feel that way, but I’m not entirely sure. Amalie has a way of making me feel things that I normally don’t. It’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to get too close to her in Ibiza—and one of the reasons I should have said no to marrying her.
She’s at the table when I walk in with my oatmeal and a cup of coffee, picking at what looks like a bowl of yogurt, granola, and fruit.
“I see you managed to handle a kitchen knife without hurting yourself,” I say dryly, sitting down across from her. I know, of course, that I picked up whole strawberries from the store, and I know that the comment is going to get under her skin. It does—I can see it immediately from the glare she throws in my direction.
“I’m not helpless,” she snaps, digging her spoon into the bowl and pushing it around. It’s clear her appetite leaves the moment I enter the room, which irritates me to no end. I’ve never hurt her. I’ve done nothing except marry her, the thing that her family desperately needed to do, and yet she’s treating me as if I’m some kind of villain.
“I didn’t say you were,” I smirk, taking a bite of my own breakfast. I see Amalie give my coffee a longing look, and I take a pointed sip, enjoying the frustration on her face. Especially after the nonsense about the attic last night, I’m enjoying making her a little uncomfortable.
What is upstairs in that attic is none of her business, exactly as I told her—and for the thousandth time since I said I do, I wish my father had chosen a woman for me who knows when to leave well enough alone. Surely, there are any number of women who would find a locked door and leave it that way—but not Amalie.
It’s at least partially my fault for not taking that goddamned key and putting it elsewhere. But that doesn’t change the fact that there is, apparently, nothing that Amalie doesn’t think she’s entitled to answers about.
It doesn’t matter, I think grimly, taking another sip of her coffee. If I have my way, she’ll never find out a single detail about any of that.
“I’m going to Boston for a few days to see my family and take care of some business,” I tell her flatly, setting down the cup. “I want you to stay here. And I meanhere, as in on this property, near or in the house. I don’t want you to go off on your own. Is that understood?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I thought you said youweren’tkeeping me prisoner.”
I let out a slow, heavy sigh. “They’re guidelines for your protection, Amalie, notkeeping you prisoner. You don’t need to be so dramatic all of the time.”
“Then give me something to do.” She leans back in her seat, anger wreathing her features. “I’m bored to tears, David, and it’s been two days. And you want me to just stay here in this awful house, alone? I could be working on my college classes remotely right now, but my mother withdrew me without my consent.”
I grit my teeth. It pisses me off to no end when she insults the mansion—myfamily home—just because it’s not in the same perfect condition that hers is. But her comment about school startles me. I had no idea that her mother made that decision for her, andthatmakes me angry, too.
“I had nothing to do with you being pulled out of school, Amalie,” I tell her curtly.
“Except for the fact that you married me.” She purses her lips. “But, of course, it’s not at all your fault. Nothing is.”
“I would have had no issue with you continuing your classes from here. That was your mother’s doing—nothing to do with me or my family. If you want to re-enroll, feel free.”
Amalie glares at me. “And who is going to pay for my tuition? Not my mother, now. Are you going to? I don’t have the ability to make that call myself.”
I resist the urge to reach up and rub my temples. “We’ll discuss it when I come back,” I tell her finally. “I don’t have time to figure this out right now.”
“You don’t—” Those high points of red are on her cheekbones again, a clear sign that she’s about to blow up at me. “David—”
“You really need to learn to control your temper,” I tell her evenly. “That kind of high blood pressure is probably bad for the—”
“I swear togod—” She jumps up, shoving her chair back before I can saybaby, and is gone in an instant. I hear the heavy clatter of her footsteps on the stairs, and I lean back, closing my eyes against the headache that I can feel building.
We can’t spend more than five minutes in the same room together without getting into a fight.How are we meant to stay married? I know most mafia couples don’t particularly enjoy each others’ company. After a while, they tend to simply avoid each other as much as possible, putting on the necessary face when there’s an event. But Amalie doesn’t even seem willing to do that. Part of the reason I’m not bringing her to Boston is because I don’t trust her not to cause more problems with my family than it’s worth.
