Chapter 12 #2
Cosimo’s gaze slid over my pajamas and down my bare legs. I suddenly felt like I was extremely underdressed for whatever this was.
“There she is.” Rafe waved me closer. “Cosimo wants to talk to you about making some adjustments to the wedding ceremony.”
“Sorry for the late hour,” he said, and I was sure that was the first time I’d heard him apologize for anything.
“Why don’t you talk in the library?” Rafe suggested.
What would Cosimo do if I just said no? If I ripped the Band-Aid off and told Rafaele right now that I was done?
Cosimo must’ve read the thought in my gaze, because he took a step forward. “It’ll just take a second.”
I shook my head. “I don’t—”
“Please.” His voice was low, his expression almost imploring.
I glanced at Rafe. He was distracted, typing something out on his phone with furrowed brows. He hadn’t slept much these past few nights. Did I really want to cause a scene right now and pile more onto his plate?
Damn it.
I shot a glare at Cosimo. “Follow me.”
The library was one of my favorite rooms in the entire house, and inviting him in here felt sacrilegious. I pushed through the double doors, marched halfway in, and whirled around to face him. “What now?”
His eyes burned with terrifying determination as he closed the doors behind him with a loud click.
“You need to hear me out.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
He began walking toward me. “No, you haven’t, because you keep hanging up on me.”
“I heard everything I needed to hear. There’s—”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I bit back, taking a step backward as he kept moving forward.
“For how I treated you these past few months. You didn’t deserve that.”
I frowned. He sounded weirdly genuine, like he actually meant it instead of just saying what he assumed I wanted to hear.
I felt myself waver.
No. Don’t.
I shook my head and took another few steps back. “I don’t want your apologies. I never want to see you again.” My shoulder blades hit the shelves behind me.
“Fabiana—”
“No!” My frustration spilled over. I pushed at his chest, because by now, he was right freaking there, but he was built like a damn brick wall. “There’s got to be some way for you to get what you want without signing me up for a lifetime of misery with you!”
His palms curled around my wrists and held them to him. “Not a lifetime. Six months. Give me six months.”
I froze. “What?”
“I’ll annul the marriage after six months. That’s enough time for me to stabilize the family, get voted in as don, and find my father’s killers. After that, I’ll set you free.”
I stared at him like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. What he was proposing was impossible. “You can’t do that.”
“I’ll be don of the Ferraro family. I’ll be able to do whatever I want.
I’ll talk to your brother, smooth things out, make sure our partnership isn’t compromised.
You can leave all that to me. I just need you to marry me as soon as possible, play your part, and stay with me for six months.
That’ll be long enough for it to look like we gave it a proper chance. ”
I paused. He was serious. He really thought this could work, and he made it sound so simple.
It wasn’t.
“Do you not understand what that will do to me? In our world, I’d be damaged goods.”
Something in his eyes darkened, almost as if he was suddenly displeased, but it was gone in the next blink. “Exactly. You’ll be off the marriage market forever. Rafaele isn’t going to ask you to marry anyone else. You’ll be done. Free.”
“Free?” The word tasted foreign on my tongue. What did that even mean for someone like me?
I didn’t know. I only knew that what I had now wasn’t that. And what I had in Geneva hadn’t been that either.
Up until now, no matter how far from home life had taken me, I’d always known that I would end up back here. Married off to someone I didn’t choose.
I’d never even allowed myself to dream of anything else.
Why torture myself? Why hope for the impossible?
Someone like Elena might have the courage to try to break the chains of expectation that held us captive.
To risk the relationship she had with Rafe, with the rest of the family. But me? I didn’t.
No, even if Rafe allowed me to walk away from the marriage with Cosimo, there’d be someone else a few years from now. Someone else he’d choose.
What would it be like to be free of all that?
Inside me, something unlatched. Like a window that had been stuck shut until now.
And in came a breeze. Teasing me. Tempting me.
A life on my own terms. Wouldn’t that be nice?
I felt like I was about to float out that window when Cosimo’s squeeze on my wrists brought me back down.
I blinked up at him, almost dazed. His eyes were absurdly blue this close.
“Don’t do it for me. Do it for yourself,” he whispered.
Six months. That was all he was asking.
Six months, and I’d never have to go through this again.
But for six months, I’d have to pretend our marriage was real. I’d have to live in his house, stay by his side, play a role in his family.
The role of a don’s wife. The role he’d told me I was too gullible to play.
Prove him wrong.
It was tempting. Very.
But it wasn’t tempting enough for me to give this asshole exactly what he wanted.
I yanked my hands free. “Six months of you insulting me? Disrespecting me? I don’t think so, Cosimo. I’ve had more than enough of that.”
I expected him to get angry. Instead, something in his expression softened. “It wouldn’t be like that.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ve given me no reason to think you can be anything but a condescending ass.”
“What do you want me to do, Fabiana? Get on my knees and beg?”
“That would be a start.”
I hadn’t meant it. The words were just a barb, flung at him on instinct.
And yet, to my astonishment, his jaw tightened—and then he dropped to his knees in front of me.
I let out a stunned gasp.
His dark gaze pinned me in place. “Here I am. I’m not beyond humility if that’s what it takes to get what I need. You will not be humiliated or disrespected as my wife. Not by me, and not by anyone else. That’s a promise.”
I could only stare.
He was the underboss of the Ferraro family. The man who would be sworn in as don in sixty days. And he was on his knees in front of me.
I hadn’t thought him capable of this, and I’d believed I knew exactly who he was.
He held out his hand. “Just six months.”
I swallowed. I looked at his hand. The broad palm. The long fingers.
If Cosimo truly wanted to force this marriage, he could’ve found a way. He could’ve dealt directly with my brother, taking my choice from me.
But he didn’t. He had brought me a deal, and now he was on his knees, hand outstretched, waiting for my answer.
For the first time since we’d met, he was treating me like an equal.
And that realization had me taking his hand and saying, “Deal.”