Page 141 of Vicious Intentions
I hate fucking maybes. I need certainties. I need his loyalty above all.
Sensing where my head has been all night, Moretti has given me a wide berth, delaying to broach the subject until there are fewer ears around to eavesdrop. He probably sees it as a mercy. I see a problem that needs fixing.
Funny. The person I thought would give me the most trouble today isn’t even here. The last time I saw Raffaele was about two hours ago. He didn’t even stay for dinner. He just grabbed a couple of bottles of champagne and left. Now, that’s a small mercy, if there ever was one.
“Matteo,” my mother calls, pulling my attention away from all the problems I have yet to solve and onto her sad smile.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s your wife,figlio mio.She doesn’t look like she’s having much fun.” My mother sighs, her shoulders slumping somewhat.“And it’s her wedding day, Matteo. Every bride deserves to be happy on her wedding day.”
My wife.
The words settle deep in my chest, unreal, like something I’ll wake up from any second.
I don’t have to look far to find Anna sitting a few seats down, her back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. She hasn’t said much since the ceremony. A few polite responses, a nod here and there, just enough to keep up appearances. Just enough for her disdain for everyone here to go unnoticed.
Anyone else might think she’s just overwhelmed, but I know better. In my girl’s mind, she’s plotting her escape, already searching for a way out of this grand hall without drawing attention. The soldiers stationed at every door are the only thing standing in her way.
My poor, poor wife.
I watch her for a moment longer, then press a kiss to my mother’s cheek.
“Then I suppose it’s up to me, her husband, to fix that.”
I make my way over to her, ignoring the eyes that follow me, the quiet nudges between our guests waiting to see how this plays out.
A tilt of my head toward the orchestra is all it takes for the music to soften, slipping into something slower. A love song meant for newlyweds.
I stop in front of her and extend my hand. “Would you like to dance?”
Her eyes lift to mine, cold enough to kill something inside me.
Fuck.
What am I doing? Why put myself through this?
Haven’t I done enough damage for one day? Why not just leave her alone?
Because it’s our wedding day, goddamn it!
We deserve one good memory out of it. Don’t we?
“Dance with me, wife.” This time it isn’t a question.
A flicker of annoyance crosses her face. Or maybe it’s defiance.
“Do I have a choice?” she bites back with the sweetest smile.
Yep. Definitely defiance.
I hold her gaze and offer her my best wolfish grin. “You always have a choice.”
“Hmm,” she hums, pretending to smooth the invisible creases of her dress. “That’s the first lie you’ve told since we got married, and we both know it. Tell me,husband, is this what our marriage will be built on? Lies?”
I take her hand, bringing it to my lips, and press a kiss to her knuckles, my gaze lifting to hers, through lowered lashes.
“On my life, I will never lie to you again. Whatever you ask me, I will always tell you the truth.”
