12. Margot
Chapter 12
Margot
I ’m in the kitchen when I feel his presence. Every muscle in my body tenses in anticipation before I’ve even laid eyes on Massimo. It’s been a week since we became intimately tied to each other, but he hasn’t touched me since. I’m grateful for that, but every day that passes only makes the tension gnawing in my gut coil tighter.
I keep my eyes fixed on the dish in front of me, my appetite long gone. His energy is undeniable, feeding into me and making my heart race. And yet, he moves around the kitchen with ease, unknowing of the reaction he’s caused in me as he chats with Alma, his chef, in hushed tones before heading in my direction.
Carefully and with a false calmness, I place my napkin on the table and stand, pushing my chair back. When he takes a seat at the head of the table, I fight to control my reaction to his proximity, keeping it locked up inside and refusing to show my turmoil at wanting to beg him to touch me or scream at him for doing what he’s doing to me.
“Sit.” It’s a command that has my body obediently dropping back into my chair.
What is wrong with me? The embers of a fire inside of me spark to life. I will not obey him. He is not my master and I am not his puppet. Standing again, I push my chair back, the legs scraping across the tiled floor, loud and brash in the otherwise quiet room. Massimo glances at me, one brow raised. His cold, hard stare holds a challenge, waiting for me to push back so he can… punish me ? I won’t give him the satisfaction.
My eyes bounce around his face searching for a sign that he’s going to tell me this whole thing—our marriage, the way he took my virginity, the control he has over me—was all a dream. Better yet, that it was all a sick prank and I can go back to my normal life. But I see nothing. No hint at what game he’s playing or how long he expects us to do… this . Defeated, I slump back into my seat, and stare at the ceiling.
“You know, this would go a lot smoother if you didn’t act like such a child, Margot.” He takes a sip of his espresso, his eyes boring into me over the edge of the cup.
Rolling my head on the back of my chair, I regard him and the finger that is bare of his wedding band before I drawl, “Here’s an idea. Find a different wife? Unless taking women who can’t stand you and don’t want you is what turns you on?”
The wolfish smirk that transforms his face as his mouth lifts up on one side has my pulse racing with desire, and yet my head is screaming at me to run. To put distance between us. Instead, I stay put, refusing to show him any weakness, because that’s what my attraction to him is.
“Why would I want anyone else when I have you ?” He pauses, waiting for me to answer, but when I refuse to speak, he continues, “The way I see it, Margot, you have two choices.”
I scoff, blown away at the fact that he thinks I have choices . Sitting up straighter, I tilt my head and lean into him. “Do you really believe that I have a choice in this situation? Are you that delusional?”
He moves so quickly that I don’t have time to react. His hand is warm, firm, and commanding as he wraps it around the nape of my neck. My pulse thuds against his fingers, the buds of my nipples pebbling in the cups of my bra and betraying the anger I’ve been trying so hard to hold on to. I lift my head, meeting his eyes with a glare that I pray masks the war of frustration and need waging inside of me.
Massimo presses his forehead against mine. “Watch how you speak to me, Margot. There’s a thin line between you living a comfortable life here and ending up buried in the ground.”
Heat prickles my skin and my heart hammers against my rib cage as unease washes through me at his statement. And yet, an undercurrent of excitement pulses through me at the thought of him touching me again, at the danger he clearly exudes. Pulling back as much as he will allow me, I inject boredom into my tone when I reply, “So my choices are to either be married to you or be killed?”
Releasing me, Massimo leans back in his chair, picking up his espresso and finishing it before he provides me with an answer. I track his movements, shifting in my seat as I stare at his large hands, the veins flexing and rippling as he moves. “No. Your choices are to make the best out of this situation or carry on as you are. If you choose the latter, it’s only you that will suffer.”
Blinking, I force my eyes to meet his. I cross my arms over my chest, biting the inside of my mouth when his eyes flit to my cleavage. “And how do you propose I make the best out of this terrible situation?” I huff.
Massimo lifts a shoulder before dropping it. “We can start with getting to know each other.”
An incredulous giggle slips from my mouth before I clamp it shut. I stare at him with wide eyes. “Sorry, but that’s what you’re supposed to do before you get married.”
Massimo sighs, running his tongue over his teeth as an idea forms in my mind, sending a rush of excitement through me.
“Okay, I’ll try it your way.” I rest my elbows on the oak table, tucking my hands under my chin as I inject as much sweetness into my tone as I can muster. “Dearest husband.”
Massimo’s eyes drop to my mouth, something sinful swirling in their depths. I wait for his gaze to return to mine.
Tilting my head to the side, I stare into his almost black eyes and ask, “How many men have you killed?”
His eyes hold mine, searching for something that he doesn’t find. “I have no issue telling you that number, Margot, but when I do, you can’t take that knowledge back.”
Blinking, I let out a slow breath. I don’t really want to know. It’s not going to change anything and get me out of this marriage. If anything, it’s going to cement my connection to him and that’s the last thing I want. “Fine, don’t tell me. What do you want to know about me?”
“I’ll start with an easy one. What did you do for work before?” He moves his finger back and forth between us. Before I was forced into our marriage .
I settle back into my chair, folding my arms over my chest. “That’s what you want to talk about? Okay.” Inhaling, I sigh, “I didn’t have a job.”
His brows pull together, and for the first time since we met, I think I see something akin to disappointment flare in his gaze. “You’re twenty-two. What happened with your last job?”
Heat blooms in my chest, traveling up my neck and flaming my face. “I’ve never had a job. I was in education, and when that finished, I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do.”
“What were you studying?”
I release a chuckle, looking around the room. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s not like I’ll have the opportunity to do anything with it.”
Massimo stares at me, the weight of his focus almost unbearable. “I don’t plan on keeping you locked up like a prisoner, Margot. If there is something you want to do and it doesn’t conflict with what we do here, then you are free to pursue it.”
A hush falls over the kitchen, the only sounds coming from somewhere else in the house. It’s only now that I realize we’re alone. I was so ensnared by him that I didn’t even notice Alma had left the room.
Needing something else to focus on besides the fact that there is nothing stopping Massimo from doing what he wants to me on this table, I say, “How long have you been…” My question trails off, unsure of whether or not I can acknowledge what he does.
He fills in my blanks. “I’ve been the head of this family—at least the American side of things—for the last ten years. I worked with my father for a while before he got sick and then I took over with him on the sidelines, providing me with guidance until he passed.”
There’s something about knowing Massimo had family that makes him seem almost human. Almost . I’d be a fool to forget the monster beneath the polished surface. My voice is flat and devoid of any emotion, just as intended, when I reply, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He shrugs, like losing a parent is no big deal. “It was a long time ago.” We fall quiet for a moment before he asks, “Tell me, why don't you get on with your mother?”
I scoff, narrowing my eyes. “What makes you think that I don’t?”
Leaning back in his chair, he rests an arm on the table, drawing my attention to the corded muscles. “It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Even with our limited interactions before we got married, I could feel the bubble of tension between you.” He falls quiet for a moment, but when I don’t speak, he continues, “So, why do you not get along with your mother?”
I tear my gaze away, staring at the swirling pattern in the table top before I reply, “That’s the understatement of the century. Josephine is…” I pause, unsure if I should be so vocal with a man like Massimo about her. He stares at me, no judgment in his gaze, just waiting for me to continue. “Josephine is a unique person, but growing up with her as my sole parent was hard. She can give you whiplash. One minute she’s a doting mother and I’m her ‘baby girl’ and the next, when a man comes along, I’m forgotten about, left to fend for myself. It was easier to detach my emotions when it comes to her than to keep on the ride.”
Something flits through Massimo’s gaze, but it’s gone so quickly that I can’t name it. I tear my eyes away from him, wondering if I’ve shared too much.
Staring at my hands, I prepare to stand when he speaks again. “What do you do for fun?”
I huff out a laugh at his change in subject, relief flooding me. Lifting my gaze to him, I reply, “I like to read and I go out with my friends, usually shopping or to a club.”
“What do you read?” Genuine curiosity floods his expression.
“Anything. If it interests me, I’ll read non-fiction but my favorites are the classics, like Emily Bronte, Harper Lee, and Charles Dickens.” I shrug, his unfiltered intrigue in me stirring something in my gut.
Massimo opens his mouth to speak but closes it again when his phone vibrates on the table. Picking it up, he checks the screen before swiping to unlock it. “I have to go. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
And just like that, he’s gone, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and my body tingling with a neediness I have no hope of satiating.
I’d do well to remember that this isn’t a traditional marriage; this is a minefield. It’s a landscape where I’ll be forever trying to dodge the attraction I feel for my husband as we each fight our battles to win the war. And I’m sure that right now, Massimo thinks I’ll surrender if he just gets me to open up, but he’s mistaken.
I’m just getting started .