Page 68 of Savage Vows

“Music?” I offer.

“I’d like that,” she replies. “Jazz, maybe. Or some classical?”

How did I not know anything about her musical tastes? Then I realize I’ve very little time finding out about her.

Courtship, my mother called it.

An antiquated notion, one I don’t have time for. I’m not sure what it even means. And yet I know my mother has been my father’s biggest supporter and most trusted confidante. Having Alessia as an ally, not an adversary is in my best interest.

I set the house system to play contemporary jazz, and her shoulders relax a little more.

With her palms cupping the globe of her glass, she studies me. “I’m curious, Matteo. If you didn’t have to marry out of duty, who would you choose?”

Her question catches me off guard. “I haven’t thought about it.” I suppose I would eventually marry, but after Clara, I was in no hurry.

“Who broke your heart?”

“Who says anyone did?”

“You haven’t already walked down the aisle. And I can’t help but notice you’re at least upper middle class.”

“At least.” I grin.

“And you’re not ugly.”

“From you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Ergo, you swore off love. Let me guess, you were young, idealistic.” Then she pauses. “And she found out who you really are.”

“Did you ask Bella about me? Look me up online?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “I watch you, take note of your interactions with others. I saw the way you treated your mother, the way you interact with others.” She pauses and a hint of color stains her cheeks. “You’re …”

I wait.

“Passionate.”

With her, it’s beyond that. My desire for her is a singular, focused thing.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’d be surprised if you hadn’t been in love.”

She lapses into silence, waiting for me to fill it.

Finally I fill in the gaps. “Clara.” Very few people know the name. “We met at college.”

“And she didn’t know who you were?”

I shrug. The memories still sting. At first, things had been perfect, and she made the first move, inviting me to join her for a study group in the library. When I showed up, there were no other people there. And that suited me fine.

She was attending school on a scholarship, and she guessed I came from money. We began dating, and I moved her into my apartment to save money.

Over time, she began to realize I had more security than even a former president’s kid. And she began to ask questions. Eventually I had no choice but to tell her the truth. I boil down the messy breakup to a few short words. “She wanted me to give up who I am.”

“Did she give you an ultimatum?”

“You can call it that.” Wrapped in a tantrum, arguments, withholding sex, emotional blackmail. I kicked her out when she threatened to expose me and my family to the feds.

Nothing is more important than my blood.

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