A Dark Sicilian Secret

She blinked, looked away, battled to keep control because it felt like he was taking a knife to her, again and again. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Torturing me.”

“Torturing you is the last thing on my mind. I’m merely clarifying our relationship, defining the parameters before we have to function in front of my family and the rest of the world.”

“And those parameters?”

“You belong to me in the bedroom. The rest of your life is your own.”

“I am not an object.”

“Agreed. You are my wife. You will fulfill your conjugal duties. But you are free to shop, and travel, and make female friends of your choosing.”

“Female?” she flashed, glancing up at him, tears still matting her lashes.

“Only female. I will tear apart any man that comes within ten feet of you. You are my wife. You are a d’Severano. You’d best remember that.”

“You must enjoy having so much power when I have none.”

“You don’t need power. You have me.”

“To think for me, speak for me and force me to lie in your bed!”

“I shall never need force to get you into my bed. I proved that point yesterday. But if you’d care for a refresher—”

“Not necessary, but thank you.”

He smiled mockingly and reached for his tie, loosening it slightly. “Maybe I do have time for a quickie.”

“No.”

“No?”

The pale green bedroom walls felt as though they were about to close in. “I mean, not like this. Not a quickie. It won’t be right.”

“And what would be right? Romance? Candles? Soft music in the background?”

“You’re so angry.”

“I am.”

She trembled inwardly, not out of fear, but shock and pain. She didn’t want him angry with her, not like this, not when they’d once been so happy together. Maybe they only had two weeks, but those two weeks had been the happiest of her life and she wondered if they could maybe be happy again. If they could just sort out their past. If they could just figure out the future. How they’d do that, she didn’t know, but she had to have hope. Had to believe they could make a real marriage out of this, otherwise, how did one live in a loveless marriage? How did one live with so much? How would she survive the next seventeen years?

“I don’t want you angry, Vittorio. And I do want to fix this…make amends. I don’t know how yet, but will you at least let me try?”

For an endless stretch of time he said nothing. Then he reached out to her, his palm sliding down her neck, his fingers curving to fit her nape with his thumb at her earlobe. “And how would you do that?” he murmured huskily, stroking the hollow beneath her earlobe.

Her pulse leaped at his touch. She licked her lips as her mouth dried. “I would try to remind you that we can be good together. That we could be happy.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

His dark eyes held hers, the brown irises hot, glowing with tiny shards of amber and gold. “Does that include the bedroom?”

“Yes.”