His jaw tightens. "Don't be stubborn. You're practically falling asleep."
"I don't want to use the bed." I meet his gaze directly. "I wouldn't want you to mistake my need for sleep as an invitation for a repeat performance of the rooftop."
Alessandro's expression darkens. "That's not?—"
"Let's be clear about something," I interrupt. "What happened between us was a mistake, as you clearly believe as well. I, for one, won't be repeating it. This is a business arrangement. It’s all you want, so it’s all you’ll get.”
His eyes narrow. “I never said it was a mistake.”
“Your hot and cold behavior indicates otherwise.” I cross my arms and look out the window, watching the earth fall away as the plane lifts into the air.
"My behavior?" He sets down his glass. "You are just as cold."
My gaze whips to his again. "Only after you treated me like I was invisible! What did you expect?"
"I expected—" He stops, running a hand through his hair. "It doesn't matter what I expected."
"No, it doesn't. Because this isn't real." I gesture between us. "This marriage is a peace treaty, nothing more."
Alessandro watches me for a long moment, his expression unreadable.
"Get some rest, Isabella," he finally says, his voice softer. "The bed is yours. I won't disturb you."
"I'll sleep right here, thank you." I curl up into the seat.
He sighs, leaning back in his seat. "As you wish, Wife."
“I have a name, asshole,” I murmur under my breath.
“That’s Don Dante to you.”
I want to give him the finger. Instead, I close my eyes, determined to prove I can handle this marriage. In fact, maybe his desire to keep things distant between us is a good thing. I’d rather be ignored and left to my own devices than to be continually beaten down like my mother is. All I have to do is get through this farce of a honeymoon, and then I can be free of having to spend time with my husband.
16
ALESSANDRO
I don’t want to be on this plane any more than she does. I have a business to run. A family to protect.
Yes, I’ve married Marco’s daughter and have a truce with him, but I don’t trust that it will keep him from trying to take advantage while I’m on this so-called honeymoon. But now that I’ve decided to woo Isabella to be my pawn, this honeymoon is a good opportunity to do that.
Plus, Luca and Cristian are staying in New York to help protect my territories while I’m gone. Luca scares the shit out of people more than I do, so I’m not too worried.
Across from me, Isabella has finally surrendered to exhaustion, her body curled awkwardly in the leather seat. God, she looks so young and innocent. A pang of guilt settles in my gut. She should be living her own life, not being used by me and her father in a violent game of power.
Instead, she’s married to me.
Fucking hell, I'm married. I glance down at the platinum band on my finger. It should feel like a chain binding me to a situation I never wanted. Strangely, while I’ve dreaded today, at this moment, being married isn’t as terrifying as I thought it would be. Perhaps because the marriage is done. Isabella is my wife, for better or worse.
I take another sip of whiskey, letting the burn slide down my throat as I watch her sleep cramped into the seat when she could be lying down. Her stubbornness would be admirable if it weren't so frustrating. She'd rather suffer uncomfortable sleep than accept the comfort of the bed, all to prove a point.
I suppose that’s my doing, a response to my cold shoulder toward her after we fucked on the rooftop. I pushed her away, and she responded in kind.
The memory of her on that rooftop comes back in a whoosh. Her bright eyes taking in the city lights. Her boldness as she insisted I touch her. The feel of her body yielding to mine. If I play my cards right, I’ll have her again. And make no mistake, when it comes to cards, I always win. Not only will I beat her at this game, but I’ll beat her father too.
Her father has been circling our territory for years. In some ways, this marriage is idiocy knowing he’d double-crossed me by making a deal with the Bratva after he’d made a similar deal with me. But the old adage is to keep your enemies close. And while Isabella likely doesn’t know details of her father’s business, she’s observant and smart. She’ll have information I’ll need when I finally take her father down.
And if she tries to pull a double-cross like her father, well…
