Expectations of a wife. Surely, that’s more than smiling at dinner parties. “What other expectations?”
"You'll need to be more specific, Isabella."
"Heirs. Children. I assume that's part of why you agreed to this arrangement. To secure your legacy."
Alessandro's expression shifts. "Is that what your father told you? That your primary purpose is to bear my children?"
Heat floods my cheeks. "It was implied."
"Let me be clear," he says, stepping closer. "I have no interest in forcing you into motherhood. The Dante line will continue through my brothers. My legacy is the empire I build, not the children I sire. In fact, I’m not interested in being a father."
I blink. This wasn't the answer I expected from him. "So you don't..." I struggle to find the right words. "You don't intend for us to..."
"To sleep together?" Alessandro finishes bluntly. "Not unless it's something we both want. This marriage is a business arrangement."
Relief should wash over me.
After all, isn't this what I wanted?
To avoid becoming a brood mare?
And yet, the thought that he doesn't desire me creates an unexpected hollow feeling.
"I see.”
"Does that disappoint you?" His voice drops lower, and suddenly, I'm acutely aware of how close we're standing.
"No. I just…" My eyes drift to his mouth against my will. "I assumed certain things would be expected."
His eyes catch mine, and for a moment, I imagine what it would be like to be wanted by him.
Not just politically useful, but desired.
But that’s not what he wants.
He wants a wife for show, not to love.
He won’t touch me, but because he’s the Don and I’ll belong to him, no other man will, either.
I’ll be a virgin forever.
I'd accepted the idea of a loveless marriage, but I thought I’d endure his touch and have children to love.
Instead, I’ll be bound to this compelling man and never experience the intimacy that should come with it.
"So, we'll be what? Roommates?" I ask.
Alessandro watches me, and I see a flash of heat in his eyes. "The only expectation I have is honesty between us."
I nod, fighting the confusing urge to close the distance between us. When did I start wanting his touch? "Honesty. I can manage that."
“Good.”
He turns to continue the path to the house.
“Are you saying you don't find me attractive?" I blurt out like an idiot.
He stops, slowly turns back to me. I see that heat in his eyes again. "That's not what I said."
