Page 102 of Savage Union
"May I ask you something in return?" Olga requests.
"You may ask."
"Are you going to marry my daughter because the Commission demands it, or because you want her?"
The directness of the question catches me off guard. I consider deflecting, offering the diplomatic answer that would reassure without revealing. But something about this woman's quiet dignity, her clear-eyed acceptance of realities most would shy from, deserves honesty.
"Both," I admit. "The arrangement began as political necessity. But now..." I pause, articulating what I've barely acknowledged to myself. "Now there are other considerations."
Understanding passes between us—mother to future son-in-law, woman who has survived one dangerous man to the one who will now determine her daughter's fate.
"She could love you, you know," Olga says quietly. "If you allowed it. If you proved worthy of it."
The possibility sends an unexpected current through me—not just desire or possession, but something more profound. Something I've never permitted myself to consider.
"Our world rarely accommodates love, Mrs. Gallo."
"Perhaps." She stands, smoothing her skirt with practiced grace. "But it accommodates happiness even less frequently. When the opportunity presents itself, only a fool would refuse it."
With that parting wisdom, she gestures toward the house. "Shall we join the girls? Sofia was planning to show Caterina her artwork. She's become quite the artist since we arrived here."
I stand, offering my arm in a gesture of respect. "Lead the way."
As we walk back through the rose garden, I find my thoughts dwelling on Olga's insights. The picture of Caterina that emerges is more complex, more admirable than even I had realized—a lifetime of protection, sacrifice, and carefully calculated defiance to preserve what matters most to her.
It changes nothing about our arrangement. The wedding will proceed as planned. The Costellos will be dealt with. Order will be maintained.
And yet... it changes everything about how I see the woman who will soon bear my name. Not just a beautiful, spirited adversary to be conquered, but a warrior in her own right—forged in circumstances not unlike my own, driven by principles I can respect.
We enter the house through the garden doors, the sound of laughter drawing us toward the east wing. In the sittingroom, we find Caterina engaged in animated conversation with her cousin Elena, while Sofia sits cross-legged on the floor, sketching in a large pad.
Caterina looks up as we enter, her eyes immediately finding mine. Something passes between us—an acknowledgment, a recognition that extends beyond words. Then she turns back to Elena, resuming their conversation in hushed tones.
I observe from the doorway, noting the easy familiarity between the cousins, the protective way Caterina positions herself slightly in front of Sofia, even in this safe environment. Always the guardian, even when there's no immediate threat.
As I watch her—gesturing emphatically to emphasize a point to Elena, pausing to check Sofia's drawing with genuine interest, glancing occasionally toward her mother to ensure she's comfortable—I find myself wondering what it would be like to be included in that inner circle of people she protects so fiercely.
To be not just her husband in name, her captor by circumstance, but someone she chooses to defend, to watch over, to... love?
The thought is dangerous, unprecedented. Yet I cannot dismiss it entirely.
Perhaps Olga is right. Perhaps only a fool would refuse the opportunity for happiness, even in our world of shadows and sharp edges.
CHAPTER 32
Rina
The moment Sofiafinishes showing me her bedroom—now decorated with her artwork and the personal touches that make it truly hers—I seize the opportunity I've been waiting for.
"Sof, can you grab those sketches you mentioned? The ones of the garden?" I ask, watching Vito and my mother disappear down the garden path through the window.
"Sure!" She bounces off the bed, excited to share more of her artistic progress.
I turn to Elena, keeping my voice low. "We need to talk. Now."
My cousin's dark eyes sharpen with understanding. "Sofia, sweetie," she calls, "why don't you bring your whole portfolio? The big leather one you showed me earlier."
"The one in the studio?" Sofia asks.
