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“No.My weddingwas back in June. Last summer.Thisis a circus. A million-dollar PR circus.” She throws her arms in the air.
“I know this isn’t ideal, but now at least the Violantes will be in attendance.” Her eyes soften as I rub her back. “Plus, it’s you. They want to know more about you. Think of this as a good thing.”
She scoffs. “That’s the opposite of what I want, Nico. Let them wonder. If your mother cares so much about our image, let’s focus on things that will make an impact, like our philanthropic or humanitarian work. I just inherited a list of responsibilities. I’m not going to become some PR puppet in the process.”
“Anya, this is what you signed up for.”
Her glare could burn down an entire village.
She breaks from my hold and gathers her stuff. “No, actually. I did not. I signed up to be your wife, not some arm candy and certainly not an asset to your image.”
“It’s your duty!” I whisper, exasperated that we are, once again, having this discussion.
She feigns a laugh. “Where the hell did that come from? Newsflash,husband, the world doesn’t revolve around you or your family!”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I take the deepest breath I’ve ever taken in my life. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“What did you mean, then?”
“We have roles, Anya. Don’t act like this is new to you. We have expectations.”
“Well, stop committing us to stuff, and we wouldn’t have so many. When was the last time we spent time together, just the two of us? When was the last time we went to bed at a reasonable hour and woke up after sunrise? This isn’t just for me, Nico, this is for you, too.” She looks up at me. “If Marcella schedules anything, you’re doing it alone. I do not have the time nor the interest. Now, if you don’t have anything to add to this conversation, I really need to go.”
I let it go for the time being. “Your flight is tomorrow morning?”
“Yes. Six a.m.”
Ask me to come with you.
“I’ll see you at home tonight.” I pull her into a kiss.
She’s stiff for a second, then melts into me. I kiss her nose before releasing her. She looks at me briefly before turning to leave.
Fuck.
What was that saying about the first year of marriage?
Chapter Two
ANYA
I’m still fuming as I stare back at the loads of paperwork. I haven’t spoken to my dear husband since I stormed out this morning. The honeymoon phase isn’t supposed to last forever, but it’s only been eight months.
This is a matter where I’ll need to remain stubborn. I won’t spend the rest of my life answering questions from strangers. This may be a norm for New York’s high society, but I’d rather discuss important issues if I’m going to be interviewed—which I’m aware is ironic, considering the nature of my work. Either way, I cannot be subject to the back-and-forth with his family, and the Deluccis are not used to the wordno—that’s apparent. But I have no interest in being a public figure, and I certainly do not want that for our future children.
Giving up my career as a lawyer has been hard enough. I graduated last fall, after making up the last half of the semester. But who has time to take the state bar when you wake up as the dragon head of the Triad in North America?
Truth is, I don’t know who I’m more frustrated with. Him or myself. Being a Delucci comes with a new set of roles and expectations I wasn’t ready for. I assumed we’d figure it out as a couple. But now I’m in over my head between being Nico’s wife and everything else. Who decided I should be in charge of all these people, and why the hell did I want this so badly?
Some of the men still don’t trust me, and honestly, I don’t blame them. I came out of nowhere and started barking orders.Rightfully so or not, I’m as much of a stranger to them as they are to me.
Marcella, my mother-in-law—as much as I love her—is driving me crazy. While I don’t blame her, she’s been running things the same way for decades. I certainly don’t expect her to change overnight. However, I was naively hoping for more understanding.
I miss our bubble in Virginia. The quiet. Theprivacy.
We came back to New York, and reality slapped us across the face. Life was easier when the outside world wasn’t crashing in on our relationship. But that begs the question: what kind of marriage is that if it can only survive in isolation?
Taking a deep breath and shaking myself out of my pity party, I scan what my team calls “The Lair,” and a smile teases my lips. It has no windows and sits right below my office, and you can only find it if you know where to look.
