“It’s not,” he said. “But don’t assume anything with me, Mariposa. That would be a mistake. I’m honorable, but only to a certain degree.” His eyes seemed to heat at whatever he thought. The color somehow became darker, a wild storm I could feel in the pit of my stomach.
He was using only a few words to insinuate something much more complicated.Honorable to a certain degree.The attraction between us felt like a living thing that couldn’t be denied. I wanted to touch it. I wanted him to touch me again. I was the numb sky to his strike of electricity.
“Mari,” Rocco said, and I turned to him. “Yes or no. Do you consent to go forward with this meeting? If you do, we will work out the terms, but the arrangement will be live.”
Ironic he had used the homophone “live.”
Holding Capo’s stare, I licked my lips and asked, “Live?”
“You will be my wife,” Capo said, his voice dipping even lower.
“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. “I say yes. I do consent. Let’s go forward with the arrangement.”
* * *
Before we could really get started,Rocco went over the most important reason Capo wanted to “take a bride.”
“His grandfather’s sick,” I repeated. At this point, they might as well have called me parrot instead of my name. At every turn, I continued to be shocked.
Rocco nodded and went into more detail. After Capo’s grandmother had died, all he had was his grandfather as a parental figure. His grandfather was dying, and one of his last wishes was to see his grandson married. Before I could even spit out the question, Rocco answered it—Capo would never bring a woman home to meet his grandfather and lie about marrying her. It was out of the question.
I nodded, meeting Capo’s eyes. They rarely moved from my face. Even when I paid attention to Rocco, I could still feel them. “I can understand that,” I said. “My—adoptive mother, she died of cancer when I was ten.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Capo said.
“You have no family, Mari, but it will be required of you to travel to Italy to meet Capo’s.”
“I do.” My voice came out strong. “Have family.”
Both men’s eyes narrowed.
“My best friend, Keely. She’s my family. Her brothers, too.”
Rocco looked at Capo, waiting for him to respond.
“I’ll meet them formally,” he said, “at the party her family is hosting. They’re celebrating her new job. Around two weeks from today. Sunday.”
“How did you know that?”
“I know everything, Mariposa. I know even more when it comes to you.” He ticked off her parent’s names with his fingers and then named each of her brothers and their ages. He gave me a second before he continued. “We know this is an arrangement, Mariposa, but the people in your circle won’t. I will not demand that you lie to your friend, but the truth will be bent. We met today for an interview for a possible position at my club. Once you realized I was the man from Macchiavello’s, we had our moment and things changed.
“I felt it was a conflict of interest to employ you. We had lunch, discussed things people in lust do, and you’d like to invite me to their family thing.” He waved a hand. “We’ll spend time together during the two weeks. I’ll pick you up from her place. Dating.” He seemed to hate the word, because he kind of spit it out. “Then during their family thing, you’ll announce that we’re engaged. We’ll be married at city hall in New York the weekend after. We’ll be married at the end of June in Italy, as well. A proper wedding. Your friends are welcome to attend.”
With all that he’d said, I could only concentrate on one thing. “You know everything about me, but what do I really know aboutyou?”
He leaned forward, taking his hands together on the table, his eyes not absorbing me in a personal way anymore. “You mentioned other reasons for me doing this. You got the second main one, my grandfather’s wish. I hold one heart and more than one vein close to my chest, though. There are other factors at play here, Mariposa. I need you to give me time to bring them to light.”
“How many?” I asked.
“Scusami?”
I grinned. Even though I had no Italian, I sensed what he had said, something the equivalent ofexcuse me? “How many veins should I expect? The ones connecting to the main heart?”
“You want a number.” He leaned back in his chair, studying my face. “Two.”
“No,” I said. “Pick another number.”
“You want me to make something up.”
