He spins my chair toward him and gets in my face, his voice hard. “First, I’m not a cheater and never will be. I despise infidelity. Second, those women you call groupies... I never invited them to come to me. If you hadn’t shown up, I still would have made them leave.” His voice softens as he inhales. “And third, all I care about is your safety. So, if you want to go dancing, clubbing, or wherever, I want to know so I can be sure you're safe and taken care of.”
“Why? Why is that important to you?” I can barely hear what I ask over the beating of my heart. Not that the fog in my brain is letting me think, but my stupid heart has hope. Hope that he means more than he says.
“Because you're my wife, and it's my duty. There will always be someone who will want to make sure we’re weak.” He shakes his head. “There will always be danger. When I agreed to the marriage for the sake of the alliance, your safety is part of that deal, and if something happens to you, the alliance will shatter.” His eyes search mine for understanding, but I’m not sure if I have any.
My heart splits in half. Of course he only cares about the alliance. It isn't like he knows me. It isn't like there’s anythingbetween us other than sexual attraction. I’m sure he will pretend like nothing happened last night and carry on with his day.
I shake my head. “You're right. You have a duty toward the alliance; I get it. So, is this how our marriage is going to be? I report to you, and you avoid me?”
“I didn’t avoid you last night, did I?”
“Why didn’t you? If what it takes for you to talk to me is me showing up at the club and getting into a catfight, and trashing myself with alcohol, I think we’re looking at this marriage wrong.”
“No, that’s not the reason. Although I liked that cat fight, if we can even call it that. I… There were things that weren’t clear to me. Things I’m still working on. And please don’t ask what those things are. I will share when I’m ready. I just need to ask you to have patience until I figure things out.”
“So, where does that leave us?”
“Here, in the moment.”
“Does that include you staying away from me?” I ask softly, still guarded.
He grins. “I didn’t last night.” He takes a strand of my hair and pulls it to the side. “You have no idea how hard it was to avoid you last week.”
“Then why did you?”
He exhales and takes a step back. “Like I said, there are things I’m working on.”
“Things that you don’t want to tell me.” I nod. “Fine. So, where do we go from here?”
“Well, for starters, I will not avoid you and will try to be home at a decent time.”
I scoff. “So what? I’m just expected to wait for you at home like some housewife.”
“I’m sure you will find things to keep you occupied. You could call my mother and join her for weekly brunches.”
I laugh. “Oh, please. I don’t have anything against your mother. She has been treating me better than my mother ever has, but if I have to sit in that room one more time, I’m going to vomit.”
“What’s so wrong with the weekly brunch? Those are the wives of every high-ranking man in the family.”
“That is the problem. They all see themselves as God’s gift to this world. I’m not lowering myself to their level by trashing them. The only thing I can say is the way they treated Clara and how she's trying to do everything to please them is sickening me.”
“That’s her job. To organize everything and make sure everyone has what they need.”
I scoff. “She's an event planner, not their damn maid.”
“Fine, don’t go to the damn brunch. If you like Clara, spend more time with her. And we’re going to dinner with Salvatore and Isabella this weekend, so you can get to know her better.”
I shake my head, not because he’s wrong, but because he has no idea how easy he makes it sound. The truth is, with a father and brother like mine, I’ve never had a real friend. Every so-called friendship ended the same way: men trying to use me to get to my father, and women circling me just to get close to my brother. That’s the only kind of loyalty I’ve ever known: transactional, calculated, temporary.
So, how the hell am I supposed to know what an actual friend looks like? Does he really think I’m craving some picture-perfect life of gossip and girl talk? I don’t mind chit-chatting; information slips easily when people think you’re harmless. But let’s not pretend I’ve ever had the luxury of genuine connections.
It’s not that I don’t want friends. It’s that I’ve never had a single one who wasn’t playing an angle. So, I learned to play the game better than them all.
“Having a good relationship with Isabella is important to me, as Salvatore isn't just my don. He is my brother and best friend.”
I look into his sincere eyes with a hint of pleading. “Well, I think I could use befriending someone.”
He smiles. His eyes shine with a hint of victory. “Thank you.”
