Page 48 of Vengeful Vows
He’d had a one-word reply.No.His response had echoed with finality.
Nothing had dissuaded him, not that I mind, really.
After feeling awkward initially, I’ve settled into the new routine. I’m able to log on to my office computer, review emails, draft responses, consider strategy, and return calls during the short commute.
Since Marse enjoys having me home, being able to work in the car is something I add to the win column.
By the time I’ve prepared my to-go breakfast, Marcello emerges from his office, along with another man who he introduces as his cousin, Matteo.
The man is as tall as Marse but perhaps a little broader.
Though it’s still before seven a.m., he’s dressed in a suit with a gold tie.
“I apologize for the intrusion so early.”
He carries the same air of danger as Marse. Perhaps it’s another figment of my imagination, but he seems even a bit more threatening.
Instinctively I go to my fiancé’s side, and he places his hand on my back, offering comfort that I cling to.
“Congratulations on your engagement.”
“Matteo will be the best man at our wedding,” Marse explains. “And he wanted to meet you.”
“You’re every bit as lovely as Marcello said.”
How can he know this? After all, I haven’t said a word.
He extends a hand. “Welcome to the family, Isabella.”
“Thank you.” Since we’ll soon be related, I smile and accept his hand, though he unnerves me.
Matteo’s grip is firm. His words are practiced and polished, but I’m not getting any warm or friendly vibes from him.
With a curt nod, having communicated something to me—warning? The depth of his power?—he releases me.
“My father is expecting both of you for dinner on Sunday.”
“We’ll be there,” Marse responds on our behalf.
I offer a polite smile as I say goodbye to his cousin, and Marse walks him to the door.
With them both gone, the energy in the room shifts, and I realize that for a minute I felt as if I had been in the middle of an electrical storm.
I exhale as I pick up my cup, no longer certain I need caffeine.
“My cousin enjoyed meeting you,” Marse says with a smile before dropping a casual kiss on my forehead.
Then he removes my coffee pod with a small shudder and replaces it with a strong Italian roast. “Real coffee,” he likes to say.
“Will we be expected to attend family dinners all the time?”
A small frown furrowed between his eyebrows, he turns toward me. “Do you object?”
“Not necessarily.” I shake my head. “But it would have been nice to have been asked.” His actions, though, have given me a potential glimpse of our future. I’ve been so swept up in him—in us—and planning for the wedding that I haven’t thought much about what our everyday lives will look like once we are married.
“Do you not enjoy spending time with family?”
“Since my parents passed, I haven’t done anything like that.” Not that we had while they were still alive.