‘Why do you think?’ That stubborn little chin of hers juts. ‘I’ll be relegated to sidelines. Not allowed to do anything but bear children and support my husband for “safety’s” sake. Being the little woman looking after the home. That’s a cage however you look at it.’
She’s right. You know she’s right.
I grit my teeth, forcing away the urgent need to press her back against the sun lounger cushion and show her exactly how good this ‘cage’ can make her feel. ‘Then what does freedom look like to you?’ I try to make the words sound less reluctant, but no doubt I fail.
She gazes back, all challenge. ‘Are you asking me that because you think I need to hear it or because you actually want to know?’
Goddamn.Why had I ever thought this woman would make a good and biddable wife? When she opposes me at every turn? But oddly, when I force myself to think about it, I discover that I actuallydowant to know.
‘Tell me,’ I growl, getting annoyed with myself now.
Her expression is furious at first, but then that fades, and she glances down at her knees. ‘I only want a normal life,’ she says, her voice softening. ‘I want to have a career and get a flat, have some friends. Maybe have a boyfriend and a cat.’ She pauses and then lifts her gaze to mine. ‘I don’t want to be told what to do anymore. I don’t want to be forced into a box I don’t fit and never have. I don’t want to be surrounded all day every day by guards. I don’t want to have to fear for my own life or those of any children I have someday. And I don’t want to feel as if…’ Another little pause and then she forces herself to go on. ‘I don’t want to feel like the unloved and unwanted child my father was stuck with after my mother and brother died.’
She’s got an uncanny aim when she throws those spears of hers. They always land directly in my chest, the tips brushing up against my heart, hurting.
Unloved. Unwanted. Those words resonate in a way I don’t like at all.
That was how my mother felt just before she died, and I know because she told me one night as the sedatives were kicking in. That’s how I felt too, when my father struck me across the face for refusing to look at a torture session. He didn’t care about me. He only cared about himself and how much I shamed him.
Elena didn’t care about you either.
A sullen anger sits in my gut, an anger I don’t want to acknowledge. For how my mother withdrew from me, slowly but surely retreating into herself. Nothing I did made any difference. She might not have left me physically, but she left me emotionally, and she never came back.
But then love does that to a person. It kills them slowly and by degrees, and so before it killed me, I cut it from my soul just like my father cut it away from my mother. He killed her love for him and so I killed mine for both of them, and I never regretted it.
Except I know that love hasn’t died for Caterina. I saw it in her tears at dinner just before, the grief that her father hadn’t come for her. Grief comes from love, and so no matter how awful her father was, she still feels some kind of love for him.
‘You are not unwanted,’ I say. ‘Know that right now. But love will not be part of our marriage, not ever.’
Surprise flickers across her face. ‘I didn’t say anything about love.’
‘You did. You said you didn’t want to feel unloved and unwanted.’
‘I didn’t mean loved by you,’ she snaps back, her anger returning.
‘Good.’ I ignore what surely can’t be a kick of disappointment.
‘I was talking about freedom,’ Caterina says insistently. ‘And love doesn’t mean freedom, so why should I want that anyway?’
I narrow my gaze, searching her expression, because this talk of love, when I’ve only known her an afternoon and evening, is far too premature. ‘Forget love,’ I say, dismissive. ‘I can offer you certain freedoms, but you must understand that your life will be curtailed to some extent purely because you’re married to me.’
This does not mollify her. Unsurprisingly.
‘You can see why I didn’t want to get married, right? But, oh wait, you didn’t care about what I wanted, did you?’
Her sarcastic wit amused me before, but it’s not amusing me now. It’s hitting me in places I thought were well defended and I don’t like it one bit.
I rise to my feet, dropping the towel onto the cushions beside her, before getting rid of my wet clothes. Then I hold out my hand. ‘Come,gattina,’ I order peremptorily. ‘This conversation is over. It’s time for bed.’
Chapter Thirteen
Caterina
I’M SITTING ONthe sun lounger naked, with him towering over me. His hand is extended as if I’m one of his mindless soldiers, ready to obey his every command, and a part of me is actually desperate to obey this command at least.
Because he’s beautiful, like a sculpture of an ancient god beaten out of bronze. Every muscle is sharply delineated, the ridged plane of his stomach and the powerful length of his thighs making my mouth go dry. That and his cock, long and thick, and already getting hard.
I’ve never seen a naked man before in the flesh and while he’s gorgeous, I still don’t want to give in no matter how beautiful he is. His will is as strong as mine, and I know that if I give him an inch, he’ll take a mile, and there’s no way I’m going to do that. Not when he’s taken so many miles already and so quickly.
