Page 52 of Punishing His Runaway Bride
She looked at me for a while, then sighed.
"Fine." She said. "I'll be direct."
She turned, walking to the desk, fingers trailing across the surface.
"I want a position," she said. "A real position in this family."
I frowned. "What?"
"Juliet's godmother. I want that," she turned back to face me. "I know it sounds insane, but since the engagement fell through, my family's been pressuring me to fix things, and you know I hate these schemes, but I have no choice! This is the best solution I could think of, and the best the elders would accept. They need a reason for me to live here, need a title to justify me being close to you. Godmother—it keeps them comfortable, keeps your wife from resisting too much."
I was silent.
If what Bianca said was true, her moving in as Juliet's godmother would reconnect the Visconti-Colonna business broken by the engagement falling through. Pure win-win situation.
And Olivia... It's just godmother, she'd accept that.
"Anything else?" I asked.
She smiled.
"You really do know me." She said. "Yes, there's more."
She walked back, standing in front of me, eyes direct on mine.
"I want a promise," she said, each word precise. "If your wife ever leaves—whether she goes on her own or the elders make her go—I want a chance."
I froze. "What kind of chance?"
"To be your real wife," she said, each syllable deliberate. "Not godmother, not some title. The person standing beside you."
I stared at her.
She stared back.
"Ezio," she said softly, "I love you. Since I was small. I know youhave her in your heart now. I'm not asking for that right now. But if she ever leaves—I want a chance."
That was always her way. Graceful, composed, knowing exactly when to speak and when to stay silent. Knowing how to be perfect in front of the elders.
Which is why the elders always wanted me to marry her.
Because she was the perfect Visconti matriarch.
"How long would you stay?"
"Depends on how well she learns," Bianca winked. "Also depends on how long you want me here."
I didn't answer that.
"You take the east wing guest room," I said, turning toward the stairs. "Anything you need, tell Elsa."
"Ezio."
I stopped.
"I know you're hurting," her voice came from behind. "But everything will be okay. I'm here."
I nodded without turning.
