Back to the scene, I couldn’t tell exactly what was going on behind me, but I heard voices and shuffling as, I imagined, the man’s companions grabbed him and got him out of the restaurant.
“That was too much,” I scolded him as he took his seat.
“I disagree.”
“Because you’re a monster,” I told him. “You don’t beat men to a bloody pulp in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”
“Why not?”
“Because you just don’t.”
“That man put his hand on your ass without your permission,” Primo said, resting an arm on the top of the table and my mind flashed back to him breaking the guy’s hand, making my stomach twist again. “Or was I mistaken, did you give him permission to grab your ass?”
“Of course not,” I said, chin lifting. “But that was an overreaction.”
“Was it? In the old country, he would have forfeited his hand for that.”
“That’s barbaric.”
“That’s the life, Isabella. Were you not born and raised into it?”
“I guess my Family is just more civilized than yours.”
“This is your Family now, lamb,” he reminded me.
“Yeah, thanks for the reminder,” I grumbled.
“So am I to assume you’ve never had your ass grabbed before. A perfect ass like that, just went un-groped your entire life?” he asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Men always think themselves entitled to a woman’s body when they like it.”
“And your brothers, your cousins, no one has ever made them pay for it?” Primo asked, looking outraged by the concept.
“They were never around when it happened.”
“But when you told them,” Primo prompted.
“I didn’t tell them.”
“And why would that be, Isabella?” he asked, leaning forward a bit. “Because you knew they would react? Your old Family isn’t more civilized than your new one. You just didn’t give them the chance to show you how they conduct their business.”
“Well, I would prefer not to have to witness how you conduct your business,” I told him as a brave server finally started to approach the table.
Her hands trembled as she showed us the wine.
“That is good, yes,” Primo said, nodding, barely sparing her a glance.
“Thank you,” I added, giving her a soft smile that she couldn’t quite bring herself to return. “See? That poor girl is terrified of you,” I told him as she rushed away.
“Fear is good,” Primo said, reaching for the wine to pour me a glass, then one for himself. “You should look at your menu.”
“I’m suddenly not very hungry,” I said, tone a little petulant, but it wasn’t a lie. The blood still had me a little queasy.
“You’re going to eat,” he informed me.
“You might be used to getting your way, but not even you can command my stomach not to feel sick,” I told him, watching as his gaze slid to me.
“Sick?” he repeated.
“I don’t like blood,” I told him.
“Blood, small spaces, any other irrational fears I should know about?”
“They’re not irrational.”
“They are.”
“Just because you don’t have the same fears doesn’t make my fears irrational,” I shot back, reaching for my wine because my nerves were frazzled and I knew the alcohol would help at least a little bit.
“No, the irrationality of your fears is what makes them irrational,” he informed me, so damn smug when he said it, too.
“I have my reasons for being afraid of small spaces.”
“No, you likely had one experience with small spaces that triggered an irrational anxiety response to it that you’ve never worked on since then.”
“So, what, you’re a boss and a shrink now? Where did you get your degree, Dr. Esposito?”
“Careful,” Primo said, tone low. If I wasn’t so riled, I might have called it scary.
“Or what?” I snapped, rolling my eyes. “Are you going to bang my head against the table and break my hand too?” I asked.
“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said, almost sounding offended.
“You said you wouldn’t rape me,” I reminded him. “There are other ways to hurt me.”
“I won’t strike you. I figured that went without saying.”
“Gee, I feel so much better,” I drawled. “I have to share a bed with a violent psychopath, but at least he won’t hit me.”
“Are you always so difficult?” he asked, sighing.
“Yes. Maybe you should have stalked me for a little longer and learned that about me before you decided to force me to marry you,” I suggested, shooting him a saccharine smile.
He hissed something under his breath right then. It was too low to make it out. But it sounded frustrated and annoyed. And I felt a little thrill inside at getting the better of someone like him. Even in such a small way.
“You know what,” I announced, mostly to myself as I picked up the menu. “I think I just got my appetite back.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Primo
It looked like she’d opened up a department store in my apartment. And judging by the names on the bags, she’d spent a small fortune acquiring it all. I almost didn’t want to check my statement.