Page 60 of Immoral

"Hey! What's that for?"

"For being cocky."

"You love my cockiness," he claims.

My face heats. It's just my luck that he's fully aware of how much I love it. Still, I deny it. "No, I don't."

He chuckles, sits back, then picks up a piece of brie and holds it to my lips. "Sure. Whatever you say, tesoro."

There's no point arguing. Brie is my favorite cheese, and I'm hungry. So I allow him to feed me and take a bite of the creamy dairy. It melts on my tongue, and I groan. "So good."

Satisfaction appears in his expression. He nods then pops the remainder in his mouth. After he finishes chewing, he swallows, takes a sip of Barolo, then states, "If you want to discuss with the chef future menus, feel free."

Panic grips me. I drink a mouthful of wine then shake my head. "I'm not going to be your little housewife, Gianni."

"What does that mean?"

"I'm not running this house. Besides, isn't that Bridget's job now that she's marrying Dante?" I may not know everything about the mafia world, but it's not a secret Dante is first in line for the throne. That means Bridget is the queen. And I'm totally fine with that.

He holds an olive to my lips. I allow him to pop it in my mouth. He shrugs. "You still get what you want. We all live here."

I turn more toward him. "I'm not giving up my career."

"I never said I wanted you to. I thought I made it clear this morning when we discussed the fashion show how proud of you I am. Did I not?"

It's true. He did seem excited for me. Yet, I also know how the Marino men are. Arianna had to beg to work. It's only because of Killian's encouragement and insistence she was allowed to start her business. Gianni's mother was a successful model but retired when she got engaged to Angelo. Bridget fills her time with her children's school activities. I'm sure she'll easily fall into the role of running the Marino mansion. Something within me feels like I need to reiterate that I'm not quitting. "I mean it, Gianni. I'm never walking away from my business."

His eyes darken, turning to slits. "Did you not hear me?"

I acknowledge, "The Marino men make all their women stay home."

He closes his fist around my collar and gently positions me in front of his face. My heart races faster. His eyes roam my face then he asserts, "I'm not like the other Marino men."

"Aren't you?" I challenge.

He sniffs hard. His voice becomes firmer. "No. Not regarding that viewpoint. And as long as you're safe, you'll work until you die if you want."

More alarms go off in my head. "Don't try to use safety as an underhanded way to force me to quit!"

Silence fills the air. I count to thirty, watching his chest rise and fall in calculated breaths before he speaks. "Your safety will never be compromised. But I'll handle it. And you're going to have to work on believing me when I tell you something. My wife cannot question every statement I make."

"I don't—"

"Don't you?" He cuts off my reply.

I sigh, wishing I could wave a magic wand and forget about my trust issues with Gianni. Instead, I decide it's best to not answer him or fight anymore. I turn toward my plate and focus on my ravioli. We eat in silence, and a million different thoughts run through my head. When I'm at the point I'm almost full, I put my fork down. I lock eyes with him and admit, "I wish I could forget our past."

His face hardens. "Then do it."

"It's not that easy, and you know it. But I do wish I could return to how it used to be between us."

He wipes his mouth with his napkin, puts it on his plate, and claims, "Guess we're making progress, then."

My stomach flips. Is this progress? Am I falling under his spell again?

He rises before my anxiety has time to consume me. He holds his hand out. "Come on."

I don't question or fight him. I let him help me up, and he leads me over to the couch. He sits and pulls me onto his lap so I'm straddling him. His palm covers my ass, and his other hand cups my cheek. "We can't go back, tesoro."

---