“Let’s eat, shall we?” Dario breaks the growing tension in the room. He grabs Pia’s hand, and they head into the dining room.
Matteo holds out his hand to me, but I hesitate to grab it. I’m not about to debase myself by touching a biker. No, thank you.
Serafina walks between us and grabs Matteo’s hand. “Since my sister won’t, I guess I’ll have to.”
Matteo smiles tightly as I follow behind them into the dining room. Dario frowns once he sees Matteo hold Serafina’s hand and not mine. Well, she wanted him. This might be her only chance to touch him. Once he becomes my husband, he’ll be off-limits to her. Though I wouldn’t have any issue with Matteo if he decides he wants to be with other women. If it means he’ll keep his hands to himself, I’ll take it.
“Your sister was being nice,” Matteo explains to Dario.
“Mmm,” Dario responds, steepling his fingers under his chin.
The dining table is covered in food—a whole feast for five people.
Matteo holds out a chair for Serafina to sit in. She smiles demurely, taking her place. I know what my sister is doing. She’s trying to show Dario that she would make a better match for Matteo. I can’t fault her for that.
Matteo turns to me and holds out a chair, but I stare at the empty seat. Normally, I like propriety. I always say thank you and you’re welcome. I never cause a fuss. I’m not like Serafina, who likes to rebel against the rules.
For some reason, this decision to marry me to Matteo has me feeling like I want to break every rule in the rulebook.
“I can get my own chair, thanks.” I walk away from the chair he pulled out for me and pull out my own, taking a seat and giving Dario a pointed look.
Matteo doesn’t respond. He just sits in the empty seat himself. He’s between Serafina and me.
Dario and Pia are across from us, exchanging little glances with each other, showing how in love they are. Why can’t I have that? I’d assumed Dario would marry me to a respectable mafiaman and I’d have what Dario and Pia have—a marriage built on love and respect. Instead, he intends to marry me to some biker who just admitted he can be a brute.
“You know, Adelina,” Matteo says, “I do appreciate a woman who can do things for herself. It’s nice to know I don’t always have to pull a chair out for you. I guess I won’t have to do chivalrous things for you in the future. Good to know.”
My lips part with surprise. “I don’t mind chivalrous things on occasion. In fact, I like it when a man respects me.”
“I can respect you enough not to hold a chair out for you in the future. How does that sound?”
I look away from him. He’s baiting. Matteo is telling me exactly how he feels about my refusal to accept his chivalrousness. “I like a man who’s kind. Clearly, that’s not you.”
“Adelina,” Dario scolds again. He’s never scolded me this many times in my life. What has come over me?
Pia places a hand on Dario’s arm and says, “I agree. A kind man is a great man. I understand why Adelina is searching for that in a marriage.”
“I’m not,” Serafina cuts in. “I’m all for a man who’s a little …” She trails a finger down Matteo’s arm. “Wild.”
Matteo gives her a curt nod before turning back to me. I wish he’d give my sister attention. Maybe, then, Dario would agree to marry them, and I wouldn’t have to partake in any of this. “I can be kind.”
I huff. “I doubt that. Bikers aren’t known for their compassion or good nature.” I take a sip of my water.
“Maybe not. But my men are loyal,” Matteo responds. “That’s good enough for me.”
“Not for me. Your men may be loyal to you, but what about me? They have no loyalty to me. You have no loyalty to me. Once we marry, you can treat me however you want, and I’d be powerless to stop it.”
His expression darkens. “I have no desire to hurt innocent women. I have no desire to hurt you.”
I huff again. “That’s not what I’ve been told about your motorcycle club. You like to get into danger. How could that not hurt me?”
“Matteo will not hurt you,” Dario says, “because if he does, I’ll kill him myself. You know I would never marry you to a man who intended to do you harm.”
I meet Dario’s eyes across the table. I know he’s right. I know he’d storm in and kill Matteo for even looking at me the wrong way. I still don’t want to marry Matteo, though. I deserve more than some biker. I deserve a high-ranking mafia man.
I sigh and return to my food. Everyone is silent as we begin to eat. I glance out of the corner of my eye and see Matteo shoveling food into his mouth. It’s disgusting. It’s barbaric. How about a little bit of class? I take a dainty bite of my salad and chew thoughtfully. Matteo is eating like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.
I clear my throat and eye him over.