Until his eyes narrow.“So he showed up here to start things up again?”he asks.“Does he not know what I could do to him?”
I don’t know what’s worse, my disappointment or my disbelief.“That’s what you took from the story?”
The arrogance of him snickering.“I’m supposed to believe he showed up a week after our wedding by accident?Your father has no say anymore, and he wanted to test the waters.See if you and I are real.”
That can’t be true.Can it?
He believes it, that much is for sure, flaring his nostrils like a bull ready to charge back into the ballroom so he can gore Enzo.“He’s not coming anywhere near you until I know more about him.And maybe not even then,” he decides, staring into my eyes until I have to look at the floor.
It’s too much, all of it.I should resent the hell out of him for giving orders, right?I definitely should not lose my breath and get a little moist at the way he stares through me.I should hate the growl in his voice when he gets all possessive and tell him where to stick his caveman attitude.
And I will, as soon as I’m finished swooning and maybe kissing his face off.
Before I can do anything like that, he nods at the guard’s signal, then takes my arm to whisk me straight out to the waiting limousine.I barely feel the light mist that’s started to fall.I barely feel anything but Dante’s touch grounding me.
The past is over.
Thisis now.
And right now, I think I’m crushing on my husband.
7
DANTE
Sweat rolls down the back of my neck and soaks into my loose, cotton T-shirt while I push my body through another round of reps on one of the top-of-the-line machines in the family home gym.By the time I set the weights down and release the foam-covered grips with a grunt, there’s a patch of sweat-soaked cotton stuck to my back.An uncomfortable sensation, but a badge of honor at the same time.Satisfying.Proof of how far I’m willing to go to keep myself sharp.
If only I could discipline my mind as easily as I’ve disciplined my body.
Enzo Amato.He was somebody I never saw coming.
The Vitalis provided a detailed report on Sophia’s health and history—one of the caveats of our little deal, something Papa insisted on.He wasn’t looking for a virgin.He isn’t deluded, and this isn’t the Dark Ages.A young woman with no complications, however?The least anyone could ask for.
According to Sophia’s story last night, Giorgio more than likely wouldn’t imagine Enzo as a complication.I’m sure he assumes he ran the kid off years ago and probably hasn’t given him much thought since.
So I can’t throw this in Giorgio’s face.Besides, a sense of discomfort twists me up inside when I imagine doing that.I don’t owe my wife anything, really.She’s gotten everything she’s supposed to get out of this arrangement—safety, comfort, the protection of our family—and she’ll never have to want for anything.
Even so, it would make me a snitch if I went to my father-in-law and complained about Sophia’s childhood crush showing his face.She trusted me with that information last night.It was the first time she had ever opened up and shared something meaningful, although I hadn’t given her much of an opportunity to do so before now.Not like I’ve cared very much, either.I have important things going on.
Those important things aren’t enough to wipe away the memory of the way Enzo looked at me.You don’t grow up the way I did, surrounded by men with ulterior motives, without developing a sixth sense.He was civil on the surface, but inside, the man was seething, an animal sensing a threat.
Much the way I was.
The television mounted in the far corner of the room is my only companion this morning.I turned it to a news station, and now some bland host drones on about international events while I push my way through another set of reps that make my shoulders burn.The volume is low enough that I can easily pick up the sound of footsteps approaching from outside the open door.Usually, I wouldn’t mind Papa or even Luca joining me down here, but today the idea of being interrupted sets my teeth on edge.I have too much on my mind, and it seems like no amount of pushing my body is enough to shake free of the frustration that kept me up well into the night, lying in bed across the hall from my wife.
My wife, who now steps tentatively into the room, then freezes on the spot when our gazes connect in the mirror in front of me.“What are you doing down here?”I ask more sharply than I probably should, but she caught me off guard.
“You told me I could use the gym if I felt like it.Right?”She looks around the room slowly, taking it all in.“This is impressive.”
Is it?I have her standing only feet from me, wearing a pair of tight shorts that cling to her hips and lean thighs like they’re painted on her skin.Nothing else exists but those gentle curves.How long has it been since I’ve had a pair of thighs like those wrapped around me?Too long, if the sight of them has me fighting for my life.
Her curious glance my way over one shoulder brings me back to my senses before I can start a drool puddle at my feet.“It’s convenient.Papa left it up to me to put it together.”
“He trusts you.”
“I hope so,” I reply with a shrug as I take in every inch of her, down to the dark ponytail swaying with every step she takes.“Otherwise, we’re both in trouble, aren’t we?”
“I’m not trying to get in the way of your workout.”She holds up both hands in a gesture of defense before heading over to the opposite side of the room, where three treadmills sit in a row.“Does everybody come down here?Or is it usually just you?”She taps each of the three machines as she passes before stopping at the last one and placing her water bottle in the holder on the side.
