And okay, maybe it’s true. Maybe I really don’t want him to sleep with his mistress on our wedding night, even though it shouldn’t matter.
Still, one thing I do know is that with this gun in my hand, I’m powerful. I can make him do what I want for a change, even if that power is only an illusion since he’s right. I’m not a killer. I’m not like him, not in any way.
I only wanted to prove myself and now that I have, I finally lower the gun, click on the safety, and extend it to him.
He blinks in surprise, before looking down at the weapon as if he doesn’t know what it is.
‘Go on,’ I say. ‘You wanted it. Take it.’
He doesn’t though. Instead he looks at me. ‘Why? I thought you wanted to shoot me,gattina.’
‘I changed my mind.’ Oddly, I feel more powerful now the gun has been lowered than when I was holding it. Perhaps that’s because I finally did something that surprised him again, made him take notice, and that feels…good. ‘Go on.’ I shake the weapon at him. ‘Take it.’
He takes it from my hand, checks it over with a practiced, reflexive movement. ‘What about your deal?’ he asks. ‘I was about to capitulate, but then you went and gave away your advantage.’
‘You were right.’ I clasp my hands together so he can’t see how they shake. ‘I don’t care what you do with another woman.’
He glances down at the gun again, a thoughtful expression on his handsome face. ‘No, I don’t think I was right,’ he says slowly. ‘I think you were.’ His gaze lifts to mine. ‘What you said about respect is true. You’re my wife and as such, you are worthy of mine. Which means it would be disrespectful to sleep with Annika tonight.’
A small shock goes through me. I’m not expecting him to capitulate, not at all, so all I do is stare at him and ask stupidly, ‘What?’
‘I’m going to cancel Annika.’ He’s decisive as he puts the gun down on the bed then gets out his phone. ‘Tonight you and I will have dinner instead.’
I open my mouth to tell him I don’t want to have dinner with him, but he’s already turning away. ‘Six thirty,’ he says over his shoulder. ‘Maria will come and get you.’ Then he strides out of the bedroom, the sound of his deep voice echoing in the hallway as he talks to whomever he just called. Annika, presumably.
I’m still trembling, my heart banging against my ribs, and I don’t know if I’m afraid or thrilled. Afraid that he changed his mind about Annika and wants dinner with me instead, or thrilled that I managed to change his mind about her and wants dinner with me instead.
Go on, you’re thrilled.
I take a deep breath, staring blankly at the gun on the bed. Maybe Iamthrilled. He’s ruthless and single-minded in his goals, and I’ve had first-hand experience of exactly how single-minded he is. And yet… I got him to change his mind, and I don’t think it was just because I’d threatened his manhood. No, he changed it because of what I said about respect.
The families are obsessed with respect and who is owed it and whether they deserve it, etc., etc. And Vincenzo Argenti is obviously no exception. Then again, he didn’t say I was worthy of respect, he said I was worthy ofhisrespect.
Which is interesting. Certainly within the families, no one can disrespect another man’s wife. But a husband can disrespect his own wife, that’s perfectly allowable, and I’ve seen it happen many times. I was too young to remember what my father’s relationship with my mother was like before she died, but whenever he spoke about her, it wasn’t with grief that she was dead, it was more about the insult to his and our family’s honour.
I can’t imagine Vincenzo Argenti actually respecting anyone, let alone the woman he kidnapped and forced into marriage, but when his gaze met mine, I had the feeling he was being genuine.
I don’t want to keep thinking about him, though. I don’t want him taking up so much space in my head, so I push the thoughts away. Instead I pause over the gun, wondering whether I should take it with me, but in the end I leave it on the bed. He wasn’t wrong when he said if I shoot him, I wouldn’t last long enough to enjoy my widowhood. His security is insane and I’m certainly not in the mood to die purely for the satisfaction of putting a bullet between his eyes.
Dinner is still a couple of hours away, so I spend time exploring the rest of the villa. It’s stunningly beautiful, the gardens, the lawns, the terraces with pots overflowing with herbs and flowers. But through all this beauty it’s impossible to see anything but a cage. There are too many men dressed in black and wearing sunglasses, just randomly walking around. Patrolling the grounds. It makes sense. This plan to unite the families under his rule will have made him many enemies.
I ponder this as I go inside and find a gorgeous little library on the ground floor. It looks over yet another terrace and into some rose gardens, with shelves that are floor to high, vaulted ceiling and a fireplace to warm the room. I wander idly over to the shelves and inspect the spines, thinking about the plan he mentioned in the car in Rome, of bringing the warring factions under one command like he’s a medieval king. I would have said that’s impossible, but I do know from what my father has said, that he’s already brought half the families under his control.
Stop the killings,the Wolf told me.That’s what I want to do.
It’s admirable, I have to admit as I take out another book and examine the cover. But what makes him think the killings would stop underhisrule? Does he think he’s better or more moral than everyone else?
What do you care?
I shove the book back onto the shelf with a little more force than strictly necessary, annoyed by the thought. Idon’tcare. I really don’t. I want to getoutof the world I was brought up in. I want to be a normal twenty-five-year-old, with a job and a boyfriend, and live in a flat with a cat.
I don’t want to go from one prison to another, to become yet another man’s property. I’m tired of it. And I’m tired of feeling powerless, too.
You had some power up in his bedroom.
I turn away from the bookcases, still thinking. It was true, I did. I got him to change his mind, though that might have been the gun. Then again, he changed his mindafterI gave him the weapon, so maybe it wasn’t the gun after all. Maybe it was me. If so, perhaps I can get him to change his mind about other things too, such as letting me go.
I make my way slowly upstairs to my room, because dinner will be soon, and I need to decide what kind of woman I want to be when I meet him again. Do I want to be Cat in sweatpants and sweatshirt? Or Cat in full wifely make-up and dress?
