The weeks leading up to our wedding pass with excruciating slowness.
Every time I see Isabella, she's flanked by watchdogs, usually Enrico, who seems determined to remain glued to her side, his smug face a constant reminder of our confrontation.
To be honest, I’m grateful for it. It helps me keep my distance.
At night is worse. I lie awake in my empty bed, wondering what Isabella is thinking, if she feels this same maddening pull.
When sleep finally comes, she's there too.
Her lips on mine, her body pressed against me, scenarios playing out that leave me waking with a hardon, frustrated and angry at my lack of control.
This isn't who I am. I don't obsess over women. I don't waste time on romantic fantasies.
I'm Alessandro fucking Dante.
I've built my reputation on ruthless business dealings, lethal if necessary to protect what’s mine.
Yet here I am, counting the days until I see her again like some lovesick teenager.
I'm done playing this game.
The Vitale family thinks they can control our interactions, manipulating this arrangement to their advantage while keeping me at a distance from my own fiancée.
It’s time for me to take control of myself and of the situation.
Time to start putting Enrico in his place.
Tomorrow night is the final pre-wedding dinner, a larger affair in a Manhattan Hotel that Marco thinks is neutral territory… but it’s not. It’s mine, and I intend to use that advantage.
Adriano enters my office with news about the Columbian deal.
After listening, I nod, indicating everything sounds as it should be. “Listen, tomorrow, I need you to keep Enrico off my ass.”
Adriano raises a brow. “He’s not on your ass. He’s always between you and his sister.”
“I need you to do something about that.”
A lethal smile blooms. “Might spoil the wedding if I take him out.”
I shake my head. “Don’t take him out, unless, of course, he threatens you first. I just want him to know he can’t keep me from her.”
"You planning to disappear with the bride-to-be?"
"I'm planning to have a private conversation with my fiancée without her watchdogs hovering."
"Dangerous game, Brother." Adriano's voice carries a hint of amusement. "Getting attached to the Vitale girl?"
"Getting tired of being manipulated," I counter, working to hold back my irritation that he can see this crazy pull she has on me. "They agreed to this marriage, yet they're treating me like I can't be trusted with her. It's disrespectful."
"And you just want to disrespect them back by compromising her?—"
"Just handle it."
I motion for him to leave, effectively ending the conversation.
The truth is more complicated than I'm willing to admit, even to myself. Yes, the Vitales' behavior is an insult to my position. Yes, their constant interference is a power play that cannot go unchallenged. But beneath those rational justifications burns something more primitive. I want to see Isabella. Alone.
I pour myself a drink, downing it in a single gulp.
