Page 31 of Hidden Heir, Italian Wife

“They don’t hate you.” His brows came together. “Nico is on his back foot over orchestrating Eve’s marriage, but he understands how important it is for me to marry you.”

You have no choice…

“As for Mom, she arranged a date for me. The daughter of a friend. Now she has to gracefully withdraw from that.”

“Tabitha?” Bree immediately hated herself for sounding like a jealous wife. She had no claim on him whatsoever.

His expression didn’t change, but he grew watchful, perhaps wondering how much she had overheard. “Yes. It was essentially a blind date. I’ve met her very briefly in the past, but I don’t really know her. We’re not involved.”

Now she felt even worse. Like she needed mollifying. Which she kind of did.

“Date whoever you want. I don’t care.” She looked into the darkest corner of the room, already sulking at the prospect.

“Really? It wouldn’t bother you if I married a stranger and brought her into Sofia’s life?”

She snapped her attention back to him. “Don’t you dare.”

“So you would prefer I marry someone you approve to be her mother figure?” The corners of his mouth dug in and his brows tilted into a complacent angle. “Who would that be?”

Herself, obviously.

He knew he had her, which was enormously frustrating.

It was terrifying. She was scared of being locked into an intimate relationship that was based on nothing but practicality. His lack of genuine regard for her would chip away at her self-esteem. She had fought really hard to find her confidence and autonomy and he only had to look at her to fill her with yearning. That made him very dangerous to her peace of mind.

But the alternative, where he married someone like this unknown Tabitha, and that stranger became a pseudo parent to Sofia? Like Laura had been to Bree?

No, no, no. Absolutely not.

That’s what would happen, though, if she wasn’t the woman who occupied that position in his life.

“Maybe we could come to Italy for a while, to see how things go between us,” she conceded with great trepidation. “We don’t have to marry.”

“I want Sofia to wear the Visconti name. You would benefit from it, too.”

“I’m not marrying for money,” she said firmly.

“Money is power and you will need both, Bree. You’re right to be concerned about media attention falling on both of you. It’s an unfortunate reality in my life, but becoming part of the fold will give you some protection.”

“Push, push, push. I just agreed to go to Italy with you and you’re still not satisfied?” She waved an exasperated hand, then hugged herself, worried now about how she would be treated by the press. She considered herself a modern woman who didn’t buckle to society’s most limiting expectations, but she knew darned well that Jackson Visconti’s baby mama would be regarded differently than his bride.

“I’m thinking beyond this weekend,” Jax said. “For the next fifteen years, you and I are partners in Sofia’s upbringing. Have you thought about giving her a sibling?”

“Oh, my God. Slow your roll, cowboy.” She held up a halting hand.

“I’m just asking. But these are all aspects that weigh into this decision. If you want more children, it’s another point in favor of marrying.” The lamplight was behind him, casting his face in sinister shadows that were impossible to read. “I would be amenable, by the way. Not immediately, but it’s definitely on the table.”

“You don’twantto marry me, Jax,” she reminded him. “You don’t wantme.” He had proved it when he walked out in Como.

“I’m arguing very passionately that I do. There hasn’t been anyone else in four damned years.” He stepped close enough she felt the heat off his body. “We’re already lovers. I’m saying we should make official what is going to happen anyway.”

You don’t know that.

That was what she wanted to say, but delirious heat burst in her, likely signaling her reaction to him in a flush of bright red under her skin.

Why? Why does he do this to me?

Goose bumps of excitement rose on her skin. Her nipples pinched into stiffness.

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