Klaus was tiring of her father’s constant negativity. He was destroying his daughter physically and mentally with his bullshit. Within days, his reign would be over.
“Tradition has no part in a Lastra-Accardi wedding. Any dress Isabella wants, she gets.” He turned to his own father. “Do what you have to do. Make the arrangements. I’m done here.”
Klaus took Isabella’s hand and kissed it, everyone in the room as their audience. Her eyes were a unique gray, and he found himself mesmerized as he stared at her. He whispered, “Behave yourself. In a few days, you become an Accardi.”
He had to get out of there. This was the home of their enemies and his hackles had been up ever since they’d stepped inside. Wedding or not, he didn’t trust Lastra or his men.
His father would handle the wedding plans.
He could see Carlo and Renzo itching to get out of their suits. His brothers wanted to escape the wolf’s den, too, but he only planned to save himself. As the eldest son, he was the one being forced into this unorthodox marriage, not them. They could suffer through the rest of the negotiations a little longer.
As he walked away, he took a deep breath and exhaled. The visit hadn’t gone as bad as he expected. But he needed to clear his head. There was a lot to take in.
He just about had his foot out the front door when he heard her voice. “Wait!”
Isabella rushed toward him from the other end of the house. She was out of breath by the time she reached him.
“I’m not staying, sweetheart. I trust my father can make the decisions.”
“My grandmother wants us to get the blessing of our priest before the wedding day.”
“Whether or not he gives his blessing, the wedding’s still happening. You do understand that, right?”
She nodded. “She’s very traditional. It will make her happy. She the oldest living Lastra.”
Klaus had lost his own grandmothers long ago, and his mother more recently. It was difficult to refuse an old woman’s wish.
“When?”
“Now.”
He growled his displeasure. “I’m not taking your entourage. If we go, we go alone, in my car.”
“Okay. We should leave before my father complains.”
She mentioned the name of the church, and he knew it well. His culture was steeped in religion, and it was something he tried to break free of as an adult. Klaus was sick of men using religion as an excuse to commit every sort of evil. Everything he did was of his own accord, usually for the benefit of his family.
The first thing he was going to do was take his fiancée out to lunch. She needed some food in her stomach before she passed out. The idea of her father controlling every aspect of her life didn’t sit well with him.
His car was parked out front, and he opened the door for her. In his peripheral vision, he noted her father’s guards talking into their radios. He needed to get out of there before they had a chance to put a tail on him.
As soon as he was in the driver’s seat, he hit the gas and swerved around the other parked cars out front, including his father’s and brothers’. They’d all come separately.
Isabella held on to the sides of her seat.
“I’m not dressed for this,” she said. “I should have changed. I’m not supposed to wear pants into the church. My father will be furious when he finds out.”
“You’ll wear whatever the fuck you want.”
Soon, her father’s influence would be severed. Klaus would own her in every way.
He drove to one of his favorite restaurants on the coast, pulling up to the valet.
“Where are we? What’s going on?”
“Relax. When he opens the door, step out.”
Klaus met her on the walkway.
She looked like deer in the headlights. “We’re supposed to be going to the church. My father—”
“Not before you eat,” he interrupted.
She looked genuinely confused, or maybe she wasn’t used to leaving the house. Unmarried daughters were usually treated like prisoners.
He took her arm, making her hook hers around his as they walked up to the front double doors.
“Mr. Accardi, welcome back. Would you like your usual table?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Isabella looked around with innocent wonder in her eyes. It was fun watching her reactions. The women he usually took on dates were highly processed and expected to be pampered. He’d tired of fast women shrouded in drama.
He held her seat out, then sat across from her, getting comfortable. The waiter poured his favorite red wine without being asked. He felt the tension fade away. This was a major upgrade from the Lastra family home.
“You must come here often,” she said. “Everyone seems to know you.”
Klaus unfolded his cloth napkin and set it on his lap. He leaned over the table, beckoning for her hand.
“Tell me something. Why does your mother want you to wear white to our wedding?”