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“I wanted to see Mom.”
“Your mother is fine.” His eyes rake over me. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
I look down at my simple pink summer dress. It’s pretty and elegant but understated. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I just expected better from my daughter. This is your future husband, after all.”
“Do … do I need to go change?”
The way he sighs, so full of disgust, makes me duck my head in shame. “No. There’s no time. Let’s go.” He doesn’t wait for me to follow as he heads out the door. I have to scramble to keep up.
Father barely looks at me as our driver takes us to my father’s favorite restaurant. It’s expensive and French. The diners are expected to dress somewhat nicely, and most importantly, it’s expensive. That last part is worth mentioning twice. My father is made of money, and he likes to flaunt it.
We take our seats at an intimate booth in the back and wait.
“What does he look like? This Antonio Moretti?” I ask.
Father skims his eyes over the menu even though he always orders the same thing. A duck confit with lamb on the side. He’s huge into eating meat and doesn’t believe in vegetables. When the waiter, a young man with an easy-going smile, Father orders without waiting for our guest to arrive.
“The duck confit with lamb on the side,” he tells the waiter.
“I’ll have the ratatouille,” I order. Maybe it’s partly in defiance to my father, but I love ordering vegetarian or vegan dishes. He can’t force me to be just like him. Father gives me a frown after I order.
“You should have had the duck,” he tells me. “It’s the best meal here.”
“I’ll try it next time.” I say that every time, and I never do.
Father turns to look at the door, and his eyes light up as he waves someone over. I look to see who it is.
It’s a young man not much older than me with sandy blond hair and great bone structure. Honestly, he’s gorgeous. He has a boy next door look with a slight edge that’s fascinating. I wonder who he is and quickly get my answer when my father introduces us.
“Antonio, this is my daughter, Nina. Nina, Antonio Moretti.”
This is the man my father wants me to marry? I always expected it to be some man thirty years my senior who only wanted to grope my breasts, but Antonio is much younger and much more handsome than I’d expected.
Antonio stops short when he sees me, his eyes widening. I feel flush and embarrassed and want to ask him if I have something on my face when he gives me a large smile.
“Nina.” He extends his hand to me, and I take it. The moment we touch, a flash of electricity passes through me. Antonio bends down and kisses my hand, making me blush harder. No man has ever made me feel this way before.
My father has had parties where I’ve been ogled at, but no man has ever kissed the back of my hand. It’s strangely gentlemanly.
“You have manners,” I tell him as he lets my hand go.
“I learned it from my mother.” His eyes darken for just a second before lighting up again. “Mr. Petrov, you didn’t tell me your daughter is … so beautiful.” I have to look away from him; otherwise, I’d get lost in Antonio’s eyes forever.
Father puffs his chest out with pride. “I told you this would be a good idea, didn’t I? Sit down, Antonio. Let’s chat.”
Antonio slides into the booth next to me, and the heat from his skin makes it hard for me to think past that.
“So,” Father says, steepling his fingers under his chin. “I propose you two get married. I think you could be a powerful man one day, Antonio, once you take over as head of the Moretti business. I’ll be willing to help. But I need assurances, and one of those assurances is marriage. I want my daughter to be just as powerful. It’s her worth. It’s my worth as her father. If you two get married, we could cement an alliance that could make us both incredibly powerful men.”
“You’re willing to take that chance on me?” he asks as the waiter brings my father’s and my food.
“Did you want something, sir?” the waiter asks Antonio.
Antonio scans the menu for a moment, shrugs, then says, “The frog legs, I guess.” He hands the menu to the waiter with an incredibly charming smile. “Never had them before. There’s a first time for everything.”
Father grunts as the waiter walks away. “First time for everything, you say? I like that motto. Seeing as you’ve never been married before, this could be a great first time for you.”
