Page 9 of His to Wed

Lazily lifting a shoulder in a shrug, he doesn’t deny it. “You will be my most prized possession.”

The hint of a smile on his face makes me wonder if I’m supposed to be flattered by that.

“Wow!” I say in the cattiest tone I can manage. “Sounds like my dream come true.”

“It could be.” Alessandro drops his hand from my cheek as he pushes to his feet. The way he looms over me is unsettling. I become much more aware of his impressive physique. “What your life will be from this point on depends on your attitude.”

“My attitude.”

“Yes, I’m a busy man. I don’t want to waste time dealing with a brat. Show me you can behave appropriately and you’ll find I can be generous.”

In other words, if I’m a good girl, he’ll buy me pretty things. I may not be the most ambitious woman in the world. I was happy working at my uncle’s hotel. My expectation was that I would marry one day and raise a family. But that doesn’t mean I want to be a submissive little wife either.

“And what do you consider appropriate behavior?” I ask as sweetly as possible, considering my blood is boiling.

“Be mindful of how you dress, who you speak to, how you speak to them, listen to what I tell you, that sort of thing.”

“It sounds like you want my total obedience.”

“That would be ideal.”

Wow, he’d be better off buying a lapdog than acquiring a wife. Still, if that’s what he wants, I’m going to give it to him. For now. I lower my gaze and then look up at him from under my thick eyelashes. It’s a practiced gesture, used often to get around my grandfather’s strict rules. With him, it had little success, but it’s worth a try with Alessandro.

“Okay, I can do that.”

“Good girl.” He smiles benevolently at me. It seems he’s fallen for my act. “Now, get some sleep.”

If I’m going to pretend to be the perfect, obedient wife, I might as well start now.

“Yes, Alessandro.”

Reclining my seat, I close my eyes. As he walks away, I grit my teeth. Alessandro will get more than he bargained for with his docile wife. I can’t wait to see how long it takes him to realize he should have been careful what he wished for.

CHAPTER 4

Alessandro

It’s too much to hope that we could arrive home without my family making a fuss. As we walk in through the door of their New York townhouse, it’s no surprise to find everyone gathered in the hallway, waiting for us. Since I agreed to marry Emilia, there’s been a buzz of excitement in the air. I’m not what you’d call over the hill at twenty-five, but I guess my family worried I wasn’t the type to settle down. The truth is I’ve been contemplating marriage for a while, but none of the women who’ve sashayed through my life have been wife material. There are certain expectations of a man like me when choosing a bride. Emilia appears to fit the bill.

My mother, in particular, has been dying to meet the woman I’m going to wed. She’s somehow missed the whole arranged marriage thing and gone straight for some sort of ‘romance of the century’ scenario in her mind. Her rosy view of what is basically a business transaction, the fulfillment of an agreement first made by my father and Emilia’s grandfather, irritates me.

I won’t shit on my mother’s dreams of a happily ever after, though. She had high hopes for Antonio’s marriage and it’s been a massive fuck-up. That, on top of losing my father to lung cancer, has left her fragile.

We’ve barely set foot inside before my mother rushes forward and pulls Emilia into a hug. She’s a warm-hearted woman and loves to shower people with affection. She had my father eating from the palm of her hand. Molding him into the perfect husband, she ensured he raised his children with warmth and affection, as well as a stern command. We were lucky she had him under her spell because he was a callous asshole to everyone else. He didn’t lose a second’s sleep over the misery he brought into other people’s lives.

“Oh, my dear, I am so sorry for your loss.” My mother pulls back to study Emilia closely.

“Thank you,SignoreVolante.”

“No, no, call me Ava.” Mamma looks Emilia up and down and shakes her head. “You poor girl. Your poor grandfather.”

“Mamma,” I warn. Emilia hasn’t shown a reaction to the loss of Ernesto yet, and I don’t want my mother’s kindness to draw out her sorrow right now.

“Oh, but look at you.” My mother takes the hint and changes tack. “Such beauty. You’re perfect for mybambino.”

I raise my eyes to the heavens. Though she insists on referring to me as her baby boy, I’m not, in fact, the youngest in the family. Matteo, Gio, and Livvy were all born after me, but she still treats me as if I’m her little boy.

“Give the girl room to breathe, Mamma,” my oldest brother orders as he takes a step forward. “I’m Antonio Volante.”

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