As if I haven’t spoken, he goes on, “Shopping for a ring.” Then he pauses. “Unless you don’t want to offer an opinion on the jewelry you’ll wear every single day?”
For a moment, I picture myself with the symbol of Matteo’s possession on my hand. “I don’t care what it looks like.” Mostly because I have no intention of ever wearing it.
He nods. “Or your gown?”
I scowl. He’s making this all too real. “I’m capable of shopping by myself,” I counter. “And I have friends back home who can go with me.”
“You don’t want any say in the venue?”
“That’s easy. St. Louis Cathedral.” Surely he’ll go along with that suggestion. The place is instantly recognizable and fitting for a society wedding, which I’m sure he wants.
Even better, I had a college friend who got married there, and she had to reserve her date over a year in advance. That much time will give me plenty of opportunities to get away. Even if everyone is on guard initially, over the weeks or months, they’ll begin to relax.
“Our ceremony will be in Houston.”
Frantically I shake my head. “That’s not okay with me.”
With careful control, he places his cup onto his saucer and leans forward, his eyes narrowed in a way that communicates how serious he is. “There are certain things I’m willing to negotiate, Alessia. Others I am not. You’d be well advised not to test me.”
The awful, overwhelming Matteo is back, almost making me think the man from the night before didn’t really exist.
“You’re staying with me.” His declaration is harsh, forceful. “The ceremony will be in my hometown.” He lets the words hang between us. “And it will happen within a matter of a few months.”
Stunned, I blink. “Months?”
“There’s a lot at stake.”
Meaning the dirty, crime-family deal brokered by our fathers that will make the Morettis and DeLucas even more rich and powerful. “You don’t mind being a pawn?” I challenge.
His eyebrows draw together. Clearly I’ve hit a nerve.
“Fulfilling my duty doesn’t make me a pawn.” He looks at me pointedly. “But shirking family responsibilities is unforgivable.”
I don’t take offense at his words. They were meant to get me to fall in line. None of my tactics have worked on him. None of this will work on me. I have no obligation to the man who brought me into the world. “We believe different things.”
“The less you fight me, little rebel, the better your life will be.”
“I need to get ready to go.” I push back my chair.
“One of my soldiers will bring down your luggage.”
For years, I’ve taken care of myself, so this is an adjustment I’m not sure I want.
Within ten minutes, I join him in the grand entrance. Chiara is already there, along with Mrs. Billingsly, who thanks us for staying at Hollings House.
A soldier opens the front door, and I catch a glimpse of the SUV waiting at the curb, Nash standing alongside it.
As we are walking out, Matteo’s phone buzzes. Whatever he reads makes his jaw tighten, and something dangerous flashes in his eyes.
“Problem?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
He slides the phone into his pocket. “Nothing I can’t handle.” His voice is tight and clipped. “Ready?”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Alessia
Houston