Chapter Nine #2
“Your fake husband,” he mumbles, giving a wary glance toward my driver. Only Carlo, Kessler, and my family know our union was arranged.
Anthony puts the SUV in park and gets out of the car, allowing me to speak freely. “Elio, we may have a contract, but you actually are my husband. My omega. Don’t forget that.”
He presses his lips together, but stays quiet.
“You need to embrace the role. If you act timid, these people will eat you alive.”
He scowls. “I don’t know how to talk to these people. I haven’t accomplished anything in life worth bragging about, and that’s all those people do.”
“You don’t have to brag,” I say quietly.
“You’re my husband. That is the brag to these people.
As far as they know, I chose you because I’m head over heels for you.
Act the part of my cherished omega and they’ll go along with it.
I’m telling you, I know these people. If you act like you belong, they’ll accept that at face value. ”
“All right. I’ll do my best.” He meets my gaze, anxiety shimmering. “You won’t leave me alone with them, right?”
“No.” My heart twinges oddly because, while he’s acting like a surly teenager, underneath it all he’s really just worried about not being accepted.
Something about Elio makes me want to protect him in a way I never felt the need to do with Sandro.
“I’m not going to abandon you. I brought you here because I want to spend some quality time with you. ”
He lets out a shaky breath. “You brought me here to parade me around like a show pony, don’t try and sugarcoat it.”
“Can’t I do both?” I laugh. “Stay close to me. I’ll have your back. If you could get through the wedding, you can get through this. Some of these people you’ve already met at the wedding, and the ones you didn’t weren’t important enough to be invited to our wedding.”
“Okay.”
“Breathe, Elio. You’ve got this.” Anthony opens my door and I exit the SUV.
Inside the club the air is cool and smells like lilies and lemon polish. The lobby is all dark wood and marble, with a staircase curving up to the dining rooms and a wall of arched windows framing the water beyond.
Portraits of dead club presidents hang in heavy gilt frames, watching everyone come and go with snooty expressions. A massive arrangement of white flowers sits on a center table. We don’t make it ten steps before we’re intercepted.
“Marcello Foschini!” Zino Pulisi, the club’s owner, bustles toward us in a yellow polo, round face shining with perspiration. He opens both arms as though he means to embrace me, then seems to remember who I am and stops just short.
“We had no idea you’d grace us today,” he says, his smile trembling at the edges. “What an honor. What an absolute honor.”
“Hello, Zino.” I smile graciously. Zino comes across like a lamb, but he’s ruthless with his staff. That’s one reason the club runs so well. He doesn’t suffer fools and won’t tolerate fuck-ups. We’re a lot alike in that way, minus the flop sweat.
His bright eyes flick to Elio. “This is the new husband. I’ve been dying to meet him.
” He seizes Elio’s hand in both of his and pumps.
“Welcome, welcome. You are even more striking than they said, and they said plenty, believe me. You’re all anyone is talking about.
Nobody can believe Marcello Foschini finally took an omega.
Congratulations on your marriage, young man. ”
“Thank you,” Elio says, retrieving his hand and subtly wiping it on his jeans.
“The pool water is perfect today,” Zino says, pulling out a handkerchief and mopping his shiny brow. “Oh, and we have lobster on the dinner menu tonight.”
I incline my head. “That sounds wonderful. Maybe we’ll have dinner here later. What do you think, Elio?”
“Uh, sure. That sounds great.” Elio’s smile is stiff. “I love lobster.”
“Fabulous. I’ll tell the chef to be on his game even more than usual,” Zino says. “Remember, Elio, anything you need, anything at all, you ask for Zino. I’ll take care of you.”
“I’ll do that.” Elio’s eyes flick longingly toward the exit.
Zino is still talking as we move past him. “What a beautiful couple you make. Your children will be Botticelli angels straight from heaven.”
Elio lets out a shaky breath as we leave Zino behind. “He certainly is very… animated.”
I smirk. “That was him restrained.”
“Good lord.”
We pass into the main lounge, a long room of leather chairs and low tables where the club’s true power has arranged itself by rank.
Of course, you have to know how to read hierarchy.
The people who matter sit near the windows with the view.
The people who want to matter sit near the people who matter.
Everyone is drinking, and everyone is watching the door.
When Elio and I walk through it I feel the eyes of the room turn toward us like a fighter jet locking on its target.
A woman rises from a cluster of chairs by the window and crosses toward us.
“Incoming,” I say under my breath to warn Elio.
“Oh, god,” he mutters. “Already?”
The omega approaching is Bianca Russo. Draped in cream silk, with her dark hair lacquered into a chignon, she looks more like she’s attending a pricy charity dinner than a country club.
She’s married to Rolfe, a capo who handles the construction rackets.
I had a little issue with Bianca and her husband a month ago, and from her pinched expression, it’s clear she’s still holding a grudge.
She stops in front of us, plastering on a fake smile. “Marcello, you look like you’re on cloud nine. Marriage obviously agrees with you.”
“Yes, it does.”
She turns to Elio. “So good to see you again, Elio.” Her gaze drops to the bandage that covers my bite. “I see Marcello wasted no time in staking his claim.”
“Why would I wait?” I say smoothly. “I want everyone to know Elio is mine.”
“Oh, my, so possessive.” She loops her arm through Elio’s, like they’re old friends. “How about I give you a tour of the club, Elio?”
Elio meets my gaze, looking like a deer in the headlights. “Oh, well, I was hoping to spend some time with Marcell—”
“Don’t be silly, Elio,” she cuts him off. “Us omegas have to stick together. Your husband will want to talk business with the other alphas. That’s what they come here for, not to hang out with us.”
“Well, I… uh…” Elio shoots me a look of quiet panic.
“Bianca,” I cut in. “I want Elio with me.”
She turns and fake pouts. “But he’ll be bored to tears.
He’ll have more fun with me and the other omegas.
We want to get to know him better.” She smiles at Elio.
“Doesn’t that sound like more fun, Elio?
Hanging out with omegas instead of boring old alphas?
We can have martinis. Have you ever tried a pumpkin martini?
They sound horrible but they’re absolutely delicious. ”
“No, I’ve never tried one,” Elio mumbles, looking resigned. He thinks I’m going to let her drag him off.
“Sorry, Bianca.” I reach out and gently take Elio’s arm. “He stays with me. I have no intention of ditching him to go gossip with the others. I’m not here to talk shop. I want to spend today with my new husband.”
Her laugh is falsely bright. “What was I thinking? You’re newlyweds. Of course you want to spend time together.”
“I’m glad you understand.” She doesn’t give a shit about getting to know Elio. Truth is, she just wants to get him alone so she can pump him full of lies. But Elio and I are on shaky enough ground, and I don’t need her filling his head with nonsense.
“I completely understand,” she says breezily.
“Great.” I’m hopeful she’ll run along, but instead she leans closer to Elio.
“He’s always like this,” she whispers to him. “He’s such a possessive alpha. He was the same way with Sandro. Wouldn’t let him out of his sight whenever he brought him here.”
I clench my teeth at the lie. “I don’t believe I ever brought Sandro to this club. We used to go to the yacht club occasionally because he liked sailing. You must be thinking of someone else.”
“Am I?” She frowns, feigning confusion. “I could have sworn you brought Sandro here. Maybe I’m thinking of one of the other omegas you were with.” Her tone is conspiratorial as she turns to Elio. “Marcello was certainly no saint before he met you, Elio.”
Elio shifts uneasily, but says nothing.
“Bianca,” I rumble. “Elio is my husband. I suggest you remember that when you’re speaking to him.”
Her eyes flicker. “Yes. Of course, Marcello. I should have been more careful with my words.”
“Yes, you should have been.”
Her cheeks pink and she turns to Elio. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Elio. That wasn’t my intent.”
Lying bitch.
“It’s okay,” Elio says politely. “I know that Marcello had a life before me.”
“Exactly.” She nods. “That’s really all I meant.”
“We all have pasts, Bianca,” I say pointedly. “I’m sure you’d prefer I didn’t bring up yours. None of us are saints.”
She swallows. “You’re right. None of us are saints.” A tense smile flickers over her features. “Well, have fun you two.”
“Thanks.” My smile is cool.
“Of course.” She drifts back toward the window, giving me an uneasy glance over her shoulder.
“Thank you for getting me out of that,” Elio says under his breath. “Why was she trying so hard to get me alone?”
“She wanted to fill your head with lies.” I rest my hand at the small of his back, steering him toward the veranda doors. “So she could brainwash you against me.”
He wrinkles his brow. “But… you’re the don. Shouldn’t she adore you?”
I laugh. “Many do and plenty don’t. She hates me because I caught her and her husband playing with my money. I had to punish them. She resents me now.”
“I see.” He grimaces. “No, that’s not true. I don’t understand you people at all.”
“How about we forget all that?” We stop near the edge of the clay courts. “Would you rather play doubles tennis or go swimming?”
He bites his bottom lip. “I don’t really want to get in a bathing suit around these people. I still have some bruising on my body from the car accident.”
“Nobody cares about that.”