‘You did, but my answer is the same. It’s too late for you to have that life, not now you’re married to me.’ I hold her gaze so she understands how serious I am, because it’s not just about me and what I want. Now she’s married to me, it’s an issue of personal safety. ‘You’re an Argenti and it doesn’t matter if you divorce me. You’ll always be an Argenti in the eyes of the families, and you’ll always be a target. And I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go only for someone to hurt you. I’ll never agree to that.’
She takes a breath, continuing to stare furiously at me. ‘Then give me a new name and a new life, the way you’ve done for others. That’s easy for you to do and no one need ever know.’
For a minute I regret ever telling her about the people I’ve sent on to a new life elsewhere, because I could arrange that for her as I’ve arranged it for her father. But as I’ve told her, it’s too late for that. It’s too late for her to be free in the way she wants, because now she’s mine.
Why is holding onto her so important?
I ignore the thought. ‘And what will you do if in three months’ time you find yourself pregnant?’ I demand instead, which is a low blow even if it’s true. She could be pregnant. We didn’t use any birth control, and I’ll be damned if a child of mine is born outside the Argenti family.
She pales at that. ‘If I’m pregnant, I’ll let you know, of course. I’d never keep your child from you, Vincenzo.’
‘But will you even keep it?’ I’m being blunt and forceful, and these questions are difficult ones for her to answer, and I know that. But I don’t care. If she’s pregnant with my heir, I will take them both.
The rest of the colour leaves her face and she abruptly drops her gaze at the ring boxes again. ‘I don’t know,’ she says more quietly. ‘I haven’t thought about it. I haven’t thought about having children at all.’
‘Which is not a risk I’m willing to take.’ I don’t disguise the iron in my voice. ‘If you’re pregnant, I’ll keep the child and since a child should never grow up without their mother, I’ll also keep you.’
She looks up at me again. ‘And if I don’t want to be kept?’
‘You’ll survive,’ I tell her. ‘Somehow, in this beautiful villa with a husband that keeps you well satisfied and where you won’t have to worry about money, and you can have everything you’ve ever wanted.’
Chapter Seventeen
Caterina
HE’S LOUNGING BACKin his chair with a casual arrogance that’s both incredibly sexy and incredibly infuriating at the same time. Anger burns in his silver eyes, the hurricane force of his will howling against me from across the table.
But anger is burning a hole inside me too, along with a sliver of pain I can’t identify. It’s as if a splinter of glass has caught inside me, cutting me, putting holes in me, and it hurts.
The past two days have been so wonderful, nothing but lying in bed and making love, and talking with the Wolf about everything and nothing. He’s a fascinating man, if opinionated, and we’ve had fun arguing with each other about little things that don’t matter. And arguing is fun when you can make up afterwards in the most pleasurable way possible. But it was the tenderness he gave me that changed everything. I asked for it and he gave it to me, making me feel better than I have for years and years.
After I’d woken up this morning, I’d come downstairs to find him, wanting nothing more than to kiss him and lure him back to bed, only to walk onto a beautifully prepared terrace, with breakfast on the table, and a gift on my plate.
I didn’t think anything of it initially, only a tight squeeze of pleasure that he’d bought something for me. Then I’d opened it and looked at what was inside and the happy little bubble I’d been inhabiting for the past two days abruptly popped.
I’m hiswifeand how could I have forgotten that? I’m married to a notorious man, whose only goal in life is to build empires and who’ll let nothing stop him from doing that. And I can’t ever leave, because no one leaves thecosa nostra, no one ever.
Being his wife means I’ll never be free, and looking down at those rings, I could see that life stretching out before me, hemmed in by guards everywhere I go. I’ll never be alone, never have a little flat with maybe a garden, never have a job or career of my own. I’ll be relegated to being his trophy, kept safe and secure in that glass cabinet. Taken out to play with on occasion, but mainly being left there. And if we have children… Their lives would be forever at risk.
It’s about more than that though, isn’t it? None of this is aboutyou.
I shove that thought away though, because why should I care? It doesn’t matter what this is really about. I should have considered what he’d told me a couple of days earlier, about how I’d be his wife and rule the families at his side, or some such nonsense, and I’d let him distract me. I’d let myself be distracted by him.
But I can’t do that any longer. I’m not staying here. I’m not going back to the life I had as a child, with all the expectations that were placed on me. All the boxes I was forced into or made to fit. I’m not going back to being punished for who I am either, not certainly not for him.
I stare into Vincenzo Argenti’s eyes and hold his gaze with mine. ‘Everything, except the one thing I actually want,’ I say. ‘My freedom.’
His anger flickers, the stark planes and angles of his face hardening. ‘Freedom,’ he echoes, saying the word like it’s made of poison. ‘What does it even mean? Who is ever free? There’ll always be demands on you, always be other people you have to think about. Always things you have to do. No one is ever truly free, Caterina.’
‘That’s not what I’m talking about.’ I’m frustrated now. ‘I want to be free of the families. I want to have my own life, a normal life. One where I don’t have to worry about being kidnapped or murdered, where I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder. Where I can make my own choices and decisions without someone else making them for me.’
His expression is like granite, the beautiful smile he gave me when I kissed him just before, vanishing as if it never was, and my heart aches at the change. This mask he wears as the head of his family, as the Wolf of Sicily, it’s not him. It’s not the tender, caring man who stroked me and kissed me as if I was made of glass, who argued with me passionately about something as ridiculous as whether chocolate was better than ice cream, who washed my hair in the shower last night, treating it like it was the most important task he’d ever done. It’s not him and I don’t like that. I want that other man back.
‘That is not possible,’ he says. ‘And you know why it isn’t. I’ve just told you why.’
My throat is tight but I don’t want to cry, so I swallow it back. ‘Of course it’s possible,’ I say sharply. ‘You can give me a new identity. But you won’t, will you? Because you can’t bear to let what’s yours go, isn’t that right?’
He shifts in his chair as if I’ve said something uncomfortable, which is strange. He’s possessive, all the men in the families are, and I know why. They value respect and honour, and the trophies they earn, not actual people.
