"I was merely saying I’m here to oblige your wishes. If you want me to fuck you, you only have to ask."
"You bastard. You know exactly how to get under my skin, don’t you?"
"It’s too easy," I admit. "Your instant reactions to my suggestions are a turn on. Your sensitivity to my nearness is an aphrodisiac nothing can ever equal. The way you stand up to me at every turn, how you don’t hesitate to speak your mind without regard to the consequences, how you look me in the eye, and yet, are unable to give voice to your deepest desires, which are written into every curve of your body, is a contradiction which appeals to me, even as you confound me."
Every muscle in her body vibrates with an emotion I don’t dare name. She’s attracted to me; she wants me. Yet, she stops herself from reaching out to me. Oh, her body betrays her every time, but her eyes, that resolution in them as she grapples with the intensity of her passion, holds me in thrall. Everything about her holds me in thrall. The conflict bleeds from every cell in her body and draws me to her over and over again. It’s why I’m here, instead of attending a meeting with my brothers. Something I suspect they’ll never let me live down.
It’ll be worth it, to get to spend this time with her. This time on which there’s a sell-by date. For we can’t stay together for too long. So why hadn’t I given her an outer limit for the time we’re to be together? Why hadn’t I been able to tell her that, at the first instance possible, I intend to break things off and set her free? Is it because I already know I won’t be able to let her go once I have her? Would it be better to sleep with her before we get married, and fuck it out of my system, so her nearness doesn’t affect me so much anymore?
"One month." I tighten my grip on her arm. "Give me one month after we’re married and I’ll release you."
She searches my features. "So, one month after we’re married, you’ll divorce me?"
"There are no divorces in theCosa Nostra," I point out.
She pales. "S-so what, then?"
"One month. We stay married for that time. Then, you’re free to leave. Of course, all of your needs will be taken care of. As the wife of theCapo, you’ll have a monthly deposit made into your account that will take care of everything. That’ll continue, even if something happens to me.” Her eyes widen, but I continue, “You won’t need to work, unless you choose to."
She tugs on her arm, and this time, I release her.
She slips into her seat and toys with her glass of wine. "How much money are we talking about?"
A heavy sensation presses down on my chest. My stomach bottoms out. And I thought she was different from other women. That it wasn’t my money she was attracted to. I know, already, it isn’t my status.
Most women in this country look on the fact that I amCosa Nostrawith awe... Indeed, marrying into the Sovrano family is a social ranking they aspire to. But she’s already made it clear it has the opposite effect on her. The Sovrano family name means nothing to her. As for being part of theCosa Nostra? She’s against the very idea that my livelihood is based on often being on the wrong side of the law. I thought it extended to her view on money, that it held no meaning for her. But I was wrong, it seems. Like most females, wealth equals security for her, the attainment of which is a goal to aspire to reach. So why had I thought of her as being different?
"A hundred-thousand every month."
She laughs. "Is that all being the wife of a MafiaCapois worth?"
I reach for my own wine glass and take a healthy swig. "Two hundred-thousand."
"Come now,Capo, you and I both know you could do better."
I tighten my fingers around the glass. The hostess comes by to top me up, and I snarl at her. She pales and skitters away. When I turn my gaze on my wife-to-be, she’s watching me with a placid expression.
Anyone else would know it’s not a good idea to dare me when I’m in this mood. But she doesn’t have any sense of self-preservation. It’s the only reason she’s sitting here with a gleam in her eyes and an innocent look on her features as she taunts me.
That emptiness in the pit of my stomach grows until it seems to fill my entire body. My hands and feet feel numb. My chest feels too heavy for the rest of me, and every breath is a struggle. I shake my head to clear it.
What’s wrong with me? Had I expected anything different from her? Had I hoped that she’d be someone who’d see through my bluster to the man I am underneath? Why should she when I’ve promised her nothing? When I’ve told her there’s no way I could ever love her, when I’ve made it clear there’s no chance of anything more long-term between us. I squeeze down on the stem of my wine glass and it snaps. The remnants of the blood-red liquid stain the white tablecloth.
She gasps, then turns her gaze up to my face.
I release the broken stem and allow my lips to curl. "A million dollars a month. On one condition."
28
Jeanne
He believed me when I said the money was not enough. He thought I would go through with this farce of a marriage, and then the separation, for the money. And when I asked him to up the figure he’d pay me monthly, he didn’t hesitate.
I saw the certainty in his gaze and a kind of satisfaction that he was proven right. He was expecting me to pull this money-based negotiation on him all along. In fact, he’s surprised I didn't bring this up with him earlier. Now, he has the gall to throw his money in my face and tag on a condition with it. I almost jump up and leave, but curiosity keeps me rooted. What could he possibly want? What does he think a million dollars a month could buy him?
"What is it?" I ask in a voice that sounds polite, and even a little distant, with just a hint of curiosity. Damn. Elle Woods has nothing on me when it comes to putting on a front.
"We get married tonight—"