Page 28 of Savage Vows

My heart is thundering, and I still can’t believe I have to do this.

In the days since we’ve been back from England, Matteo has slowly but surely taken over my life.

I’m now living in the fortress he calls home, and he’s swept me up into wedding plans.

The day after our return, we had an appointment with a jeweler. Yesterday he slid the rock onto my hand. Instead of love and smiles that I’d always hoped for when I got engaged, Matteo squeezed my hand, his touch menacing. Looking in my eyes, he made a clipped comment, telling me I was required to wear the ring anytime I left the house. Not that I’ve been allowed to do that without him.

Nash pulls through the gates of the Moretti family mansion in River Oaks and brakes to a stop in front of the steps.

In a quick move, he’s out of the vehicle and has the back door of the SUV open. Like he always does, Matteo exits first. Heglances around, checking our surroundings, even though Nash already has.

He extends his hand toward me, an offer that isn’t really an offer at all. As always, power radiates from Matteo, despite his courteous manners.

I hesitate for a fraction of a moment too long.

“Alessia …” Warning drips from his tone when I don’t immediately move.

Meeting Matteo’s family is not on the top-ten list of things I want to do today. Or actually any day.

But he informed me that we’re expected to join his parents most Sunday afternoons for dinner.

Often his brothers are also in attendance, along with Nico and Bella Moretti. As well as being the don’s nephew, Nico is the family’s consigliere.

Matteo’s jaw tightens slightly, and I know he won’t hold onto his temper forever. The way he abducted me from Elysian Hall proved that he won’t hesitate to act if I’m disobedient. But would he really throw me over his shoulder and stride up the path to the front door?

I shiver. I know the answer to that.

Having no other option, I place my fingers in his, pretending not to notice how my skin tingles at the contact. His hand engulfs mine completely as he helps me from the car. My stilettos crunch against the circular driveway, the sound sharp against the afternoon quiet.

The Moretti estate is massive, a testament to old, ill-gotten money. In contrast, warm light spills from dozens of windows, and tendrils of ivy soften the imposing brick facade. Unlike the sterile modernity of my father’s compound, this place breathes with life and history. The sweet scent of Carolina jasmine winds through the cool, late winter air.

“Let’s go.” Matteo’s voice is low, measured, but there’s steel beneath the velvet tone.

He places his hand against my lower back, and his possessive heat burns through the silky dress he bought me two days ago.

I want to hate how naturally he touches me, how my traitorous body responds to his strength. Keeping him at a physical distance is becoming harder and harder, especially since I spend my nights in the room next to his.

Before we can ring the bell, the massive front doors swing open, and I suck in a sharp breath.

A woman who I assume is Matteo’s mother stands in the foyer, elegant in a way that speaks of inherent grace rather than careful cultivation. Her eyes—so much like Matteo’s—are lit up with genuine pleasure.

“You must be Alessia.”

She wraps me in an embrace, something I haven’t experienced from a member of my family since my mother died. The unexpected wave of emotion makes my throat tight.

When she pulls away, she curls her hands on my shoulders in a way that’s warm and maternal. “You’re even lovelier than Matteo described.”

I glance over my shoulder at him, catching an expression I’ve never seen before. Pride? Affection? Just as quickly, his usual mask slides back into place.

Remembering my manners, I finally speak. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Moretti.”

“Gina, please,” she corrects. “Now come inside.” She loops her arm through mine as if we’re already close friends. “Everyone wants to meet you.”

I let her draw me deeper into the house, past the soldiers who are trying to appear unobtrusive. I’m hyperaware of Matteo following like a shadow. The foyer opens into a grand space that somehow manages to feel intimate despite its size. The polishedmarble floors reflect light from stunning crystal chandeliers, and the air is rich with the scent of delicious cooking—bread, tomatoes, fresh herbs, garlic, the promise of comfort, something I’ve been missing since my hasty exit from the Cotswolds.

We enter a massive kitchen, and the air is thick with power.

I’m grateful that Gina is still holding onto me and that Matteo places his hand at the small of my back. The warmth of his touch seeps through my dress, steadying me despite my racing heart.

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