Page 71 of Wicked Rivals

In the meantime, I had to decide how to handle Benedetta. I wanted her father’s men, her father’s fortune.

But at what cost?

Suddenly, I found the idea of an arranged marriage distasteful. I didn’t want anyone but Val in my bed.

Even if my marriage to Benedetta was a business contract, it would still have to be consummated, and I suspected that would tear Val out of my arms permanently.

Benedetta might refuse to marry me now that she knew I had a son with another woman and wouldn’t give her a child of her own.

Though she had no choice in whom she married, she still had to stand in front of a priest with me. If she rejected me at the altar, things would become very complicated.

So yes, we needed to talk. We needed to understand where the other person stood and how we planned to move forward.

A great deal hinged on what this conversation produced.

If she turned out to be the one coming for Enzo, may God have mercy on her soul. I sure as fuck wouldn’t. Being a woman and my fiancée would not save her.

But if not her, then maybe she had some ideas.

Or maybe she would refuse to help me protect my son.

Maybe she would lie to me.

There were a million ways for the conversation to go wrong.

CHAPTER 15

STEFANO

Benedetta didn’t say a word until we got to my office, and I shut the door behind us.

She turned on her stilettos and put her hands on her slender hips in her polished way. Then she stared at me as if inspecting my features. Or comparing them.

The woman was beautiful.

And not only beautiful but also approachable, very polite, and obedient too. Every don’s perfect bride.

But something lacked between us.

Fire.

My fiancée didn’t seem to have the fight in her that Val had. It wasn’t her fault. Val had something to protect. Something to fight for. She had my son.

“When were you going to tell me about your bastard?” Benedetta finally asked.

I relaxed my jaw’s involuntary clenching.

“Do not call him that,” I warned.

She dropped her gaze for a second, then met mine again.

“I’m sorry. That was cruel. But why didn’t you tell me you have a son and moved him and his mother into your house the day before our wedding?”

Then she paced around the room, waiting for me to compose my response while mumbling something about the damn tooth-whitening gel and really needing more espresso.

I didn’t bother to decode whatever the fuck that meant.

“We’re not exactly close enough to share our deepest secrets with each other, Benedetta.”

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