Page 51 of The Red Queen

She really was starving after their night of unbridled, animalistic sex, and she knew he must be too. They’d woken each other through the night, going through the same motions each time, learning each other’s bodies, their likes and dislikes until they’d collapsed into an exhausted heap as the first hints of dawn reached through the French windows and caressed their naked bodies, tangled together on the bed.

He helped her from her chair and together they walked downstairs. Desi tried to turn left toward the dining room, but Giovanni caught her hand and guided her through his office and out onto the patio terrace.

“I think we’ll have our breakfast out here from now on, weather permitting. This is okay with you, si?” He pulled a chair out and helped Desi into the seat before tucking her against the table.

She smiled at the way he told her it would be okay instead of asking properly. He was masterful but gave the illusion of choice. She didn’t care. She liked the way he said ‘we’, as though he intended to eat with her daily, which hadn’t really been a thing up to this point.

Mrs. Capelli brought a coffee tray out to them and poured steaming dark brown liquid into each cup, handing Giovanni the cream saucer, which he waved away. “Serve Desi first.”

Desi met the housekeeper’s eyes and saw the fire of jealousy before the woman could shutter the feeling. Desi studied her, wondering why she was so irate about Desi’s presence. It was not like she was usurping the housekeeper. Desi was not domestic and had no intention of becoming so.

Once Mrs. Capelli left, Desi looked at Giovanni, who was sipping his coffee and reading the Venice news on his smart phone.

“Am I here simply for marriage, or do you intend to put me to work?” she asked, watching him with sharp eyes.

Giovanni set his phone down and studied her, his gaze softening as he took in her long shiny hair and bathrobe.

“What kind of work would you like?” he asked, steepling his fingers in front of him.

One of his rings had blood crusted around the jewels, giving them a dull gleam in the sunlight. She wanted a closer look, wanted to ask him what had happened in Rome, but kept her curiosity to herself.

Desi sipped her coffee, made a face, and set it down, reaching for the sugar and adding two more spoonfuls. “I’m not used to being idle. This is the most down time I’ve had since I was ten. I’m a useful asset and I wish to be put to work.”

Giovanni reached across the small table and took her hand, caressing the back before gently examining her healing stub.

She blushed and tried to tug her hand away, but he held her tightly, his gaze laser-focusing on her face. “Do not be ashamed of this.” He lifted her hand, touching his lips gently to the still-healing knuckle of the missing finger. “This is a badge of your resilience,bella. You barely flinched as it was done and have since acted as though the loss is of little consequence. This is the woman I choose to walk at my side.”

She nodded, completely absorbed by him. “Then let me walk by your side. I am skilled and don’t wish to sit idle any longer.”

“Desiree,” he said her name firmly, his hand tightening on hers. “You’re still healing and learning how to use this hand without its dominant finger. You must give yourself time.”

She pulled her hand from his grip. “I don’t need more time.”

“I say you do.” His tone told her he wouldn’t accept any more argument, which was a shame because Desi was not one to back down.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t trust me. That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

His answer was quick and firm. “Correct. I don’t trust you, Desi.”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out because a feeling of betrayed outrage was bubbling up inside her. She’d opened up to him, given him pieces of herself she’d given no one else. She should have known better. No matter how much she gave, men would always try to oppress her.

She was in the process of gathering her thoughts so she could give him a properly scathing response, but he got there first.

“You’ve been with me for less than three weeks. Have you ever known a relationship to take only twenty days to develop to where trust implicit?”

“I…” Desi looked away. He knew the exact number of days they’d been together? She counted back and decided he was right. “I guess I wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve never had a healthy relationship, have you?” he asked.

She shook her head, studying her hands, which were entwined in her lap. “Ni…” she remembered he wouldn’t allow her to say Nico’s name. “He wasn’t an easy man to live with.”

“I know,” Giovanni said grimly.

She looked at him. “Did you trust your wife?”

He shook his head. “Not after three weeks, but eventually, yes.”

A rattling tray interrupted them, and Desi twisted around to find Mrs. Capelli’s hard gaze on her. The woman had clearly overheard the last part of their conversation. They fell silent while she placed plates of fruit, crepes, and whipped cream in front of them.

---