“It’s not an allowance. Allowances are for children. You’re not a child. There’s no limit on what you’re permitted to spend—although I would expect that you would consult me before making a substantial purchase.”
I don’t ask him to clarifysubstantial, because I don’t intend on making any purchases. I’m sure the card and bank account will be monitored, so they’re of little use in hatching a plan.
“The house is lovely,” I say, changing the subject to something more neutral.
He seems taken aback by the compliment.
“I mean it. It’s stunning.”
He nods and picks up his fork. “A house this size is always a work in progress, and we’re still renovating, but the bulk of the work is finished.”
His features are softer, his expression less severe. For a few seconds, he resembles the Antonio who saved me from the mean boys growing up. This version of him is less intimidating, more approachable. That Antonio might have insisted we honor a betrothal contract, but he would have never allowed Isabel and Valentina to become destitute.
“I love the turrets,” I add, hoping to keep his intensity at bay for a little while longer. I need a break from being anxious.
“Have you been up to the top?”
I nod. “I got the VIP tour of the house. The view is spectacular.”
The corners of his mouth curl. “You should see it during a storm.”
There was a cyclone raging inside me at that time, but that’s not what he means.
“Victor only took me to the one with the gym. Do you use the others?”
“I keep a racing simulator in one, and the other two are empty. You’re welcome to use them if you need some extra space.”
I don’t plan on being here long enough to need more space.“You still race?”
“Not as often as I’d like, but I keep a car and a pit crew at the ready. The simulator keeps my skills sharp.”
With all his responsibilities, I’m surprised he’d take the risk. “Even with sharp skills, racing is a dangerous sport.”
“With any luck, it’ll make you a young widow.”
I gasp softly. So softly I’m not sure he noticed—although he doesn’t miss much. His tone was too glib, as though some part of him doesn’t care if he lives or dies. It’s unsettling. Even with all I have at stake, I don’t want my freedom that way.
“I won’t pretend that I want to be here. Or that I want to marry you. But I certainly don’t want you to die to stop the marriage from happening.”
He cocks his head, as if waiting for me to say more.
“For most of my life, I didn’t see you as the enemy,” I add softly. “I don’t wish you dead.”Not yet, anyway. Hopefully not ever.
Antonio pours us each more wine. “Your heart’s too soft, Daniela.”
“I’m tougher than you think. Under the right circumstances, I could put a bullet in a man’s head.”
He glances at me, and a small smile plays on his lips. “A bullet in a man’s head, just like that.”
Go ahead, underestimate me. That can only work to my advantage.
“Believe what you want to believe.”
He chuckles. “You’re adorable,Princesa. Do you even know how to fire a gun?”
No.My bravado is going to seem even more ridiculous now. But there are circumstances under which I could fire a bullet—or take one. But I’m not sharing those with him.
“I’ve never fired a gun,” I confess reluctantly.