He shrugs. "How would I know who you'd like?"
It's a fair point. "Well, do you like them? Are they nice?"
Gabriele's jaw twitches as if I've hit a sore spot. "What is this, Katya?" he asks coldly.
"I'm just trying to get to know you."
"Ah, right, so what's next? You want to know my favourite colour? My star sign, perhaps?"
"It would be a start," I mutter petulantly.
"Dark blue and Virgo."
That's not a lot, but it's something. "I'm a Cancer. I think we're compatible."
"Wonderful." He doesn't tone down his sarcasm to spare my feelings. Clearly deciding he's had enough of our conversation, he picks up his phone and returns to reading it.
Virgo. I mull that over. "Wait — that means your birthday's in a few weeks."
"Hmm."
The non-committal sound is all I get from him. For the rest of the mercifully short journey back to the villa — I suppose I should start thinking of it as home — he ignores me. When we pull up at the front door, I don't wait for him to come around and help me from the car. I get out by myself and march up the steps into the grand foyer. That's where my annoyance loses its momentum. I have no idea where to go.
"Your room is the fourth on the right at the top of the stairs," Gabriele reminds me. "Some dinner will be brought to you."
"What? You're leaving me?"
"I'll come to you tonight." His heated gaze tells me what he'll expect. "Keep the dress on."
With that, he strides off along the corridor. I stand in the hallway, my mouth flapping open.Keep the dress on.I roll my eyes. My husband, it seems, is an asshole.
FOUR
Gabriele
Closingthe door of my study, I cross to the window and stare out into the garden. I watch two of my men talking over by the wall at the rear of the property.
The house is well protected with a state-of-the-art security system and highly trained guards but for the first time I wonder if it's enough.
It's not just me I have to think about now. I have a wife whose safety I'm responsible for.
I take my seat behind the desk and rub my brow, the enormity of the step I've just taken finally sinking in. Marrying Katya brings me no material benefits.
I'll have a beautiful woman by my side and in my bed, but there's no alliance to be gained through this union. Her father's business is too small to be worthy of my attention. Besides, everything I've learned about Oleg Kuznetov tells me I wouldn't want to deal with him anyway.
Instead of bolstering my position with an advantageous marriage, I've taken on my wife's problem with Orlov, made itmy own. Though I can do without the headache, I doubt he'll be difficult to handle. From what I know of him, he's all bluster and very little brain.
I reach for the bottle of Scotch I left sitting on the desk earlier and pour a generous measure.
When I first asked Niamh to help me find a suitable bride, it was because it was time for me to settle down. In three weeks I turn thirty and the need to produce an heir has been weighing more heavily on me lately.
As much as I want a son to take over my territory one day, I also want a steady woman in my life. I'm tired of fucking whores.
On paper, Katya meets every requirement I laid out for Niamh. Raised by a Bratva family with the single goal of becoming a good wife, Katya is beautiful and poised.
From what I've seen so far, she's also intelligent. In person, she's radiant, magnetic. She's more than I expected which, perhaps, is the trouble.
In my head I had it all worked out. I pictured exactly how she would be, imagined us together. The image did not reflect the reality. Faced with her in the flesh, I realize things aren't as simple as I thought they would be.
