Page 14 of His to Hold

“Like what?”

Matteo shrugs. “I don’t know, but something’s eating at her. She seems unhappy.”

I snort at that. “She’s a pampered eighteen-year-old. What the hell has she got to be unhappy about?”

Matteo shakes his head, disapproval etched in the furrowing of his brow and pursing of his lips. “How about the fact her big brother doesn’t know how old she is for a start?”

“What?”

“Livvy’s turning twenty in July. Her birthday’s three days after yours.”

I take a moment to think about that and realize he’s right.

“Apart from riding her ass about spending too much time on the phone and disrespecting Mamma, have you ever spoken to her?”

I wince at Matteo’s accusatory tone because, when it comes to my sister, I am somewhat detached. When she was born, I was already shadowing my old man after school and, at the weekend, learning the family business. I was too busy preparing for the role that awaited me to get to know my youngest sibling. Perhaps I should take time to get to know Olivia better, but she isn’t my primary concern right now. Matteo’s apparent reluctance to step up is.

“Don’t you want to take the reins?”

Matteo’s lips thin. He knows I’m deliberately steering the conversation away from our younger sister.

“I do, if you think it’s the right move.”

“It is.” I get up from the sofa. “Just don’t fuck up.”

My brother throws back his head and laughs. “Thanks for the pep talk, Tony. Now, can I give you a bit of advice?”

“Can I stop you?” I ask wryly.

“Nope.” He steps closer and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Give Izzy a chance. Whatever she’s done, she’s a good girl at heart.”

I bristle with annoyance, not just because he’s defending my treacherous wife, but because his words are a reminder he knows her so much better than I do. He has years of history with her that I don’t. Their relationship was never romantic, of course, and he maintained a respectful distance from her once I signaled my interest in her, but they shared a lot growing up.

“I won’t kill her,” I assure Matteo as I head for the door.

That’s as much as I can promise. Whether she comes back from our trip unscathed depends entirely on her behavior.

CHAPTER 6

Isabella

If I’d ever been given a say in the matter, I would have chosen to live in Westport. Though I loved the sea views at Amagansett where I spent the last year in my gilded cage, I prefer the lush greenery that surrounds the Volantes’ Connecticut mansion. The gardens are amazing. Hopefully, I’ll have a chance to explore them because I didn’t the last time I was here. Antonio and I came to the house for a few nights after we got married and barely left the bedroom. Things will be different this time, I guess. Nobody’s trying to pretend our marriage is the romance of the century anymore.

Since we left New York, with Antonio at the wheel of his gray Audi SUV and two similar cars following, barely a dozen words have passed between us. It’s clear my husband is not in the mood for conversation. His body language is closed off. His shoulders are tense, his mouth set in a firm line. Though the silence is unnerving, I don’t try to fill it. If Antonio doesn’t want to speak to me, that’s fine.

As we pull up at the gates of the mansion, they swing open to let us through. There are men armed with AR-15s standing outside the guardhouse to welcome us. Security is as tight here as it was at the house in the city. I guess since I helped the Gallos bypass his guards, Antonio has brought in extra measures at all the family’s properties. My husband won’t take any chances with the lives of those he cares about. That fierce protectiveness is one thing I always loved about him.

While the other cars split off from our convoy and head for the guards’ accommodations, Antonio drives us to the front of the house. Glimpses of light shine through the glass panel above the heavy wooden door. I wonder if anyone’s inside. Janetta, the Volantes’ housekeeper, may be there. I hope she is. The older woman would provide a welcome buffer between me and my taciturn husband.

After killing the engine, Antonio gets out of the car. I wait for him to come around to my side and open the door. Though he probably doesn’t feel like being chivalrous toward me right now, his manners are too deeply ingrained for him to leave me to get out of the car on my own. He wouldn’t want his men to see any signs of discord between us. Appearances matter.

Besides, as he reaches in and grabs my arm in a tight grip, it becomes clear he doesn’t trust me not to run off. It isn’t something I would do. I’d not get very far and I don’t want to embarrass myself or Antonio. The punishment he would mete out isn’t worth it.

He leads me into the house and releases my arm. “Stay.”

Though I object to being spoken to as if I’m a dog, I bite my tongue and do as I’m told. Antonio goes back outside and reappears a moment later with my suitcase. I found several outfits still hanging in the closet in Antonio’s—our—bedroom at the townhouse. Antonio didn’t need to bring anything but his laptop with him since he keeps a full wardrobe at both houses. He puts the suitcase at the bottom of the stairs, ready to take up to the bedroom later.

“Janetta left dinner.” His tone is clipped. My heart sinks as I realize that probably means the housekeeper has left us alone for the night. “Do you want to eat in the dining room or in the kitchen?”

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