"May I speak candidly, Don Dante?" Isabella continues walking, and I follow her out a pair of French doors.
"Alessandro,” I remind her. “And yes, please speak candidly.”
"I have no illusions about this arrangement. I know I'm being traded like a commodity to secure peace between our families." She gestures toward a stone bench, and we sit with socially accepted distance between us. "But I refuse to be simply a trophy."
Her directness is refreshing, although potentially dangerous.
Most women in our world know to smile and nod, to play the dutiful wife without questioning.
Other men might remind her that she has no say in her role, that she does what the Don says.
I could put her in her place with a single word.
But I don’t. "What do you want from this arrangement, Isabella?”
"A partnership," she answers without hesitation. "Not equality. I'm not naive. But respect."
A breeze stirs her hair, carrying her scent to me, and my stomach clenches tight at the sweet scent mixed with spice.
"That's reasonable."
Her lips curve slightly. "I thought you might appreciate directness over simpering."
"And what do you imagine your role would be, if not decorative?"
"The same as yours. Survival." Her lips curve into a smile, but it’s not genuine. It’s one her father or mother has taught her to show. "I was raised to be the perfect Mafia bride. I speak four languages. I can discuss art or politics with your business associates. I know when to speak and when to remain silent. I can be whatever asset you require."
I can envision her beside me at family gatherings, charming our allies while absorbing every whispered secret.
The perfect counterpart, pretty enough to disarm yet intelligent enough to glean intelligence. The thought is appealing.
"And what do you want in return?" I ask, because there's always a price.
"Protection." She says it simply. "Not just physical safety, but protection from becoming like my mother. I will respect and support you, but I won’t give up who I am… give up my soul."
The request surprises me. Not freedom. Not love. But dignity.
I shouldn't be attracted to this woman. Every instinct warns me against it.
Yet I find myself drawn to her sharp mind and honesty.
It's a liability I cannot afford, particularly with a Vitale.
I shake away the haze of her allure from my brain. "I'll go through with this marriage, but understand that I trust no one from your family. Including you."
"I understand." She stands, smoothing the skirt of her dress. I can’t help but wonder if she does it on purpose to draw my gazeto her hips. She has a body made for wet dreams, and she no doubt knows it. Is she going to use it to distract me?
I rise, standing over her, a reminder to me more than her about who holds the power.
She gives me a knowing smile. "Trust is earned, Don Dante. We'll have a lifetime for that."
A lifetime.
The words settle heavily in my chest.
This woman will be my wife, the mother of my children, potentially.
My greatest vulnerability or my greatest strength.
