“You’re worried about having sex with me, aren’t you?” He adjusted in his seat to face me better and I looked down at his hands again and a shiver went through my body.
“A little. And it’s just occurred to me that you don’t want to marry me,” I whispered.
“I never said I didn’t want to marry you, Olivia. Why do you think so?”
“You seem to not care if we aren’t in love.”
His jaw twitched and he tore his eyes from me. “Love is not a necessity for a happy marriage. Trust and honesty make a far better foundation.”
I scowled, turning to the window. “Why would you want sex without love?”
“Mutual pleasure,” he said. “Sex is like alcohol or drugs without the hangover. You don’t need love for it…in fact, you’re better off without affection complicating things.”
I gaped at him. I’d spent enough time reading romance novels, although I wasn’t allowed to read the really salacious ones, to be horrified by his response. Was this all he was behind those icy eyes? Just a hardened made man with a penchant for mindless pleasure? A hollow feeling began in my chest and I sat up straight and reached for the door handle.
“It’s pouring,” he pointed out.
“I’m already soaked,” I said.
“Did I offend you?”
“No,” I said. “But your view of things seems horrible. You wanted honesty from me, so I’m giving it. I thought we might fall in love eventually…at least try to anyway. The way you talk…it just sounds lonely.”
He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’d be lying if I said I wanted this marriage. I was hoping for some choice in who I married, but this is what needs done and duty comes before anything else in our world. We both have a duty to do, so we’ll get married and we’ll make it work.”
“That sounds thrilling.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
He reached out, taking me by the jaw in a firm grip as he turned my face up. “Believe me, Olivia, your life will be thrilling…so long as everything goes my way.”
Something about hearing him call me by my name was strangely comforting. I extracted my face from his hands and rubbed the corners of my eyes, fighting a sudden headache. I was tired from the chaos of the day and the fight had drained from me. It was time to brave the rain and make a dash for the house.
“I’m going inside,” I said. “I’m already wet, I’ll be fine to just run across the drive.”
“Alright,” he said.
I felt his eyes on me as I ran across the drive and up the stairs, my dress sticking to my body. When I turned at the door and glanced back, he had his head cocked and his lips were parted. A prickle went down my spine as I gazed back at him, my eyes meeting his, and I wondered if he desired me. Warmth pooled between my legs, and as I slipped inside, it occurred to me there might be some truth to what he said.
If we couldn’t have love, at least we could have lust.
Chapter Two
Olivia
My parents were quiet that night at dinner. The cook served ham with mashed potatoes and green beans, and when I filled my plate, my mother said nothing to stop me. Instead, she kept her eyes on her food and my father sorted through his paperwork as he ate, ignoring us. Cosimo didn’t show up for dinner and I knew he was probably out at the club or with one of his women.
My parents didn’t care what he did. My father actively encouraged his exploits, even taking him for a weekend when he was a teenager so he could get his first taste of the women who kept the made men entertained. I, on the other hand, hadn’t received any sex education. Unless I counted a threat from my mother that if I dared to touch any of the boys at school, I would be useless to her and Lucien would cast me aside like a chewed stick of gum.
So I hadn’t. I said no when boys asked me on dates and ignored their texts. I knew the future of my father’s alliance with Lucien rested on my shoulders, so I closed my ears and eyes to my brother’s freedom. I pretended I didn’t see girls leave his room early in the morning or the pack of condoms that sat blatantly on his bathroom sink. Men had freedom to do as they pleased, but I’d been born with the fatal flaw of being a woman.
“Have you packed your things?” my mother said finally.
I hesitated, unsure what she was feeling. She didn’t seem angry, in fact she seemed relieved that I was going away with Lucien. She was probably happy to be rid of me.
“Yes,” I said, keeping my eyes on my plate.
“I have something for you, I’ll drop it off in your room tomorrow,” she said.
I nodded and asked to be excused. It was getting late and tomorrow would be a long and tiring day.