Page 26 of Savage Vows

I serve myself some of the egg dish, lots of fruit, and of course, a croissant.

Filled with old-world manners, he pulls back my chair for me. He’s equally at home in this refined setting as he would be in a boardroom or …in the bedroom? Quickly I shove aside that thought.

Since my mouth is suddenly dry, I pick up my coffee. He’s added the perfect amount of sweetener to complement the rich, strong brew.

Against my better judgment, I watch every move he makes.

As if aware of my scrutiny, he puts down his silverware and looks at me. “Something on your mind?”

“Chiara tells me we’re leaving soon.”

“Yes.” He meets my gaze steadily. “We’re going home.”

Home.The word hangs between us, heavy with implication. “New Orleans?” I venture.

“Houston,” he corrects.

Where he dominates as the heir apparent to the Moretti crime family. The same kind of world that took my mother from me.

No matter how magnetic he is, no matter how he makes my pulse race, I won’t let myself become another Mafia wife or mother. I don’t want my future children growing up like I did or becoming assholes like my brothers.

My traitorous body responds to his presence, and I may not be able to control that, but I can control my choices. And I choose freedom.

I’ve seen where that path leads, and no amount of attraction is worth sacrificing who I am.

“I’d prefer to go to New Orleans.”

He takes a drink of coffee, but frustratingly he doesn’t respond, which is an answer all by itself. He doesn’t care what I want.

“Are you seriously going to try to keep me away from my family?”

“Not at all.”

I have no desire to spend a single minute with them, but I stand a better chance of escaping from my father’s home than I do Matteo’s. My father could probably be talked into letting me go to a hotel or even renting a nearby apartment.

“Nothing is more important thanla famiglia.”

“Then you understand why I’d like to see them. Stay with my father, until, you know, we get …” The word sticks in my throat. “Married.”

“We can take occasional trips to see them.”

We?Since my first attempt failed, I try another tactic. “It’s not right to live together before the ceremony.” A flush steals up my cheeks. Does he realize I don’t actually believe that?

He sits back, cup in hand, studying me. “I always prefer to ask for forgiveness rather than permission.”

I believe that about him.

“Planning everything will be easier if we’re under the same roof.”

“I’m sure you’re adept at email and texting, even video calls,” I counter.

A small smile tugs at his mouth. He definitely sees through my attempts to manipulate him. “There are things that will be much easier when we’re together.”

“Like what?” I narrow my eyes.

“The engagement party.”

I grip the arms of my chair. I can’t be pulled deeper into this charade. “If the wedding is happening so quickly, we don’t have the need for an engagement party.”

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