“If you cheat on me in any capacity, which includes first, second, and third base, not just the actual deed of sex, then whatever I’m signing is null and void immediately.”
“Baseball analogies?”
I picked up on a few terms while living in America and in the books I read. Italians watch baseball as well, although Stone is probably too busy torturing people, swindling money, or doing whatever the Italian mafia does to watch the game or understand euphemisms.
“You said you’re a man of your word.” I’d angered him more than once by insinuating his integrity and honesty were lacking. Why that made him angry, I have no idea. Being married to someone as dark and mysterious as Stone will be...scary. Interesting. Intriguing.
As long as he doesn’t physically hurt me or Mama, I can endure the emotional and mental abuse of this marriage.
“You said two years. Then I’m free?”
He gives me a curt nod. “Could be sooner if all goes well.”
Two years of torment in an ivory tower being held captive by a gorgeous yet dangerous man. There are worse scenarios that have played out in my mind for the past decade. “I’m not waiting two years to see my mother. I expect to visit her. Soon.”
Again, the long, drawn-out silence. Stone steeples his fingers under his chin, not taking his eyes off me. The vein has subsided, so he isn’t angry anymore. The eyebrow quirk is a signal of amusement, I guess. It lifts as quickly as it lowers.
“As long as you do what you’re told.”
“I’m not a child. You treat me like one, I’ll act like one. You treat me with respect, and I’ll respect your...requests.”
“Requests.” It isn’t a laugh, isn’t a snort, isn’t a sigh, but something in between. Again, I’m pretty sure I amuse Stone Parlatore, and if I am right about my hunches—as I often am—Stone Parlatore isn’t amused by much.