Page 32 of Cruel Heir

“Yes, Don Leone,” she says quietly, and I smirk.

“See? Your maid understands respect. You can leave now, Celeste,” I tell her, and the maid nods, scurrying away so that Lucia and I are alone in the room.

I can see Lucia’s hands starting to tremble as soon as Celeste is gone, and I chuckle, low and dark. “Having your maid here wouldn’t save you if I really wanted to hurt you,principessa.” I brush my thumb over the line of her collarbone. “But I don’t want that. What I want is for you to behave as a good wife should. I want you to come downstairs with me, smile for the other dons, and sit quietly while they see that I’m telling the truth about the prize that I’ve won. Do you think you can do that for me,principessa?”

Lucia bites her lip, still looking at me in the mirror. “You didn’twinanything,” she murmurs. “Youstoleme. It’s not the same thing.”

“It’s the same thing to them.” I step behind her, sliding my handbeneath the heavy weight of her hair, letting it slip through my fingers like silk as I run the back of my hand down the line of her neck. “I know you don’t want to be anything but my broodmare,principessa. You don’t want me to keep you locked in here, all your meals brought up to you, with nothing to do except wait for me to come up here and fuck you until you give me a child. And what then?” There’s a threat in my voice, one that I make sure she hears. “Ionlyneed a son from you, Lucia. Perhaps two. As soon as you give me that—” I shrug. “Who knows what happens then?”

It’s an empty threat, but from the way her face pales, I don’t think she realizes that. I don’t think I could kill her any longer, any more than I could destroy the most priceless, treasured items I own. But she doesn’t need to know that.

Especially not when so much rests on her performance in front of the other dons.

Lucia stands up, and I give her an appraising look. She’s wearing a cream-colored cashmere knit dress that comes down to just above her knees, with a modest scooped neckline and sleeves that stop at her elbows, and the diamond jewelry that I gave her. Her dark hair is loose and heavy around her shoulders, her makeup lightly done—everything about her looks elegant and expensive, modest yet exquisitely beautiful. Exactly how I want my wife to appear.

“You look lovely.” I reach for her left hand, rubbing my thumb over her ring finger. “It was an oversight not to give you a ring at our wedding. One that I hope you’ll let me rectify. I was so concerned with doing everything properly, but this is the one thing I neglected.”

Lucia’s blue eyes meet mine, her expression cool and guarded. “You were so thorough,” she says, her voice carefully neutral. “I assumed the oversight was intentional.”

“I assure you it wasn’t.” I smile at her, reaching into my jacket pocket. I’d had this on me for some time, actually, but I wanted to give it to her when I needed her to be thrown slightly off-balance. Now is one of those times. She won’t be as focused on how to convince the dons to help her or how to undermine me if she’s busybeing confused over why I’ve given her a ring—and her feelings about it.

Lucia’s gaze flicks down to the small black velvet box in my hand. “I hope you didn’t go through too much trouble,” she says calmly. “I’m picky about jewelry.”

“Oh,principessa.” I make atsking sound, opening the box. “You’re supposed to say that you’d love anything I get you.”

I can see the moment when Lucia has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Instead, she focuses on the box, and I see her eyes widen a little when she sees the ring. It’s a thin rose-gold band with pavé diamonds crusted around it, and a matching rose-gold solitaire with a radiant-cut diamond.

“Simple and elegant, I thought.” I slip the rings out of the box, and gently slide them onto her ring finger. “Fit for a mafia princess. You do love them, don’t you?”

Lucia swallows hard, and I canseeher trying to formulate a lie. I can see that she wants to tell me that she doesn’t like it, that it’s not at all what she would have picked out for herself, as clearly as I can see that she’s dazzled by what I chose for her.

“No ring for yourself?” she asks finally, the words sounding a little strangled in her throat, and I chuckle.

“Of course.” I reach for a second small box, setting the first on her vanity table. “Just something simple for me, as well.” I slip out a weathered gold signet-style band, with a diamond embedded in the center of it, and slip it onto my ring finger. “It has a certain old-world elegance to it, don’t you think? It should—it was my father’s.”

She looks up at me sharply, her eyes widening. “Your father’s,” she says slowly, and I nod.

“A constant reminder of what this marriage means to me.” I give her a smile, one that anyone else would think is the result of a sweet moment between husband and wife. But I know that Lucia knows what I mean by it, and I can see it written across her face. “You’re going to be a good girl now, aren’t you, while we meet with my potential allies?”

Lucia nods, entirely silent for once. The reminder of what it isthat I want, the vengeance that I’m owed, seems to have stuck with her. She follows me out of the room and down the stairs, all the way to the open entryway, where I plan to wait to receive my guests. “Should I go check on the food?” she asks in a quiet voice, and I shake my head, reaching for her hand.

“No,principessa. I want my wife here with me. Especially for these guests. They’re here to see you personally.”

“Me?” She looks up at me, confused, and then I see the understanding dawn on her face, the realization that they’re here to ensure that I’m telling the truth about our marriage. “Oh,” she says softly, as I link my fingers with hers.

There’s a knock at the door, and James goes to open it, revealing Don Amalfi first, with Gaeta and Di Falci not far behind, and the other dons. I give them a broad smile, motioning for them to enter.

“Come in! Welcome to my home. You’ll want to meet my wife, Lucia Leone. Lucia, this is Don Julius Amalfi—”

I introduce her to each of the dons, one after the other, exulting in the look of shock on the faces of the men I met with today. They truly didn’t believe that I’d done it. They all look at Lucia, stepping forward to greet her. I can see the general look of amazement that Don Fontana’s daughter is here. I see a few steal cautious looks at her hand, as if to see if there’s a ring there, and I privately congratulate myself on having had the forethought to make sure it was on her hand.

“The priest will be joining us, too,” I tell the dons casually. “Although he’s not quite here yet. Come, join us in the dining room. I’ve had lunch laid out.”

The cook managed to put together quite a spread in the brief time that I gave her—two large charcuterie platters in the center of the table, small bowls of olives and a platter of bread next to a dish of olive oil and herbs, carafes of wine and a tray of sliced fruits and another of vegetables. There’s another platter with a flatbread covered in prosciutto, goat cheese and drizzled honey, and two glass dishes with paté and foie gras, along with a plate of crostini. Once again, I see the men looking around with flickers of approval on theirfaces, and I feel a deep sense of satisfaction as I sink down into my seat at the head of the table, with Lucia on my right and Don Amalfi taking the chair to my left.

“I appreciate you all coming to my home.” I smile, looking at the gathered dons. “It’s an honor to be able to host you here. And I’m sure my lovely wife is equally as pleased to have you all here.”

“Of course,” Lucia murmurs, her voice quiet, her gaze flicking around the table. Her face is slightly pale, her cheeks flushed across the high points of her cheekbones, but she says nothing else. I see her gaze shift towards me, as if gauging my mood, but nothing else.

---