Page 24 of Darkest Desire
“Tell me now.”
“You don’t boss me around.”
“Neither do you,” I snap back.
Nico chuckles, running his hand over his head. “You’re going to be a lot of fun, Sasha. Come on. You must be hungry too. Have dinner with me.”
“I’m tired of talking with you.” My stomach growls right then and there, revealing that I’m hungry. But I would rather starve than be in Nico’s presence a moment longer.
“We don’t have to talk. We can just eat. I called ahead so my housekeeper should have dinner ready for us. You can meet her.”
“You have a housekeeper for your summer home?”
“Who doesn’t?”
I shake my head. “You’re so wealthy you don’t even realize how ridiculous your comment was.”
“Ridiculous? You come from money too.”
“But not this much money. My family has just the one home. Not two.”
“Well, get used to having two homes, now that you’re married to me.”
He leads me into the dining room, which is just as beautiful as the rest of the house. A long dark table takes up the entire length of the room.
“How many people are you expecting over with a table like this?” I ask.
“I like to have company. Throw some parties.”
“Like the celebration tomorrow,” I hedge.
He taps me on the nose. “Nice try. Now take a seat.” He settles himself at the head of the table so I make a point of taking the seat all the way at the other end as far from him as I can get.
“Now that’s no fun,” Nico jokingly whines. “Come sit closer to me.”
“You said I could take my own seat. I chose this one. Besides, you sit at the head of the table, so I’m going to sit at the other head of the table. Isn’t this the seat for the wife anyway?”
Nico smirks. “Fine. Have it your way, Sasha. For now.” His clear threat sends a shiver down to my toes. So far, Nico has taunted me or made me blush. But he has never truly tested me yet.
Now that we’re married and living together, what will he do to me? I’m not sure I want to find out.
A woman places a plate of food in front of each of us, speaking Italian to Nico.
“Maria, this is my wife, Sasha.”
Maria turns to me and rattles off a long sentence in Italian.
“She only knows English. A true American despite her Russian heritage.”
“I apologize,” Maria says, speaking in stilted English. “Most people I know only know Italian.”
“It’s ok,” I tell her. “You live in Italy. What else would you speak, right? I don’t expect you to talk in English all the time.”
She gives me a grateful smile and turns to Nico, talking to him in Italian again. Even though I did just give Maria permission to talk in whatever language she wants, I can’t help but feel left out all over again since I can’t understand a word she’s saying.
Nico laughs at something she says and flicks his eyes at me. Maria pats him on the shoulder, then leaves the room. Without her here, the room instantly falls quiet.
The food is a pasta dish with meat in it that I find myself scarfing down because I’m so hungry.
