CHAPTER FIVE : NIGHT TALK

"Rules?"

"Yes."

"You are negotiating with me now?"

"I'm telling you what I need if I'm going to remain here willingly."

His gaze sharpened at the word willingly.

For the first time that night, he looked genuinely interested.

"Go on."

"First, I want to be able to leave the estate when I need to, provided I tell someone where I'm going and take reasonable security. I don't want to be treated like a prisoner."

Alessandro said nothing.

"Second, if we have a disagreement, I want you to speak to me directly. No sending other people to threaten me, no humiliating me in front of your staff, and no making decisions about my personal life without at least hearing what I have to say."

She paused, then added, "I understand that you have responsibilities and that your business is dangerous. I'm not asking you to tell me every secret you have. I'm asking you to remember that I am your wife, not one of your possessions."

Silence settled over the corridor.

Isabella suddenly became aware of how fast her heart was beating. She had never spoken to her father this way, much less to a man whose name made people lower their voices.

Alessandro looked at her as though he were reconsidering something he had previously taken for granted.

"You understand that I cannot promise you complete freedom to go wherever you please," he said.

"I understand that there may be places you consider unsafe. You can explain those concerns to me, and I'll listen. But I want you to listen to me, too."

"And if I refuse?"

She held his gaze, though her fingers tightened around the glass.

"Then I will know what kind of marriage I'm entering."

For several seconds, he did not move.

Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.

It was not loud, and there was nothing particularly warm about it. But it was genuine enough to leave Isabella staring at him in surprise.

"Most people in this house spend their lives trying to anticipate what I want," he said. "You have been here less than a week, and you're already telling me how I should behave."

"I'm not telling you how to behave. I'm telling you what I can accept."

His smile faded, but the interest remained.

"That sounds very much like telling me how to behave."

"Then perhaps you should consider behaving better."

The words escaped before she could stop them.

Isabella froze.

No one spoke to Alessandro Moretti like that. She knew it, and judging by the sudden stillness in the corridor, he knew it too.

She waited for the anger.

Instead, he looked at her for another long moment, stretched his hands and held her chin up before giving a short nod.

"Your first rule is reasonable. You may leave the estate with prior notice and appropriate security. If there is a specific threat, I expect you to take it seriously."

She blinked.

"And the second?" she asked.

"I will speak to you directly. If I have a problem with you, you will hear it from me."

"And you'll listen to me?"

"I said I would speak to you directly. Don't become greedy, Isabella."

She almost smiled.

"That isn't a no."

"No," he admitted. "It isn't."

For the first time since she had arrived at the mansion, she felt that she had been heard—not because she had pleaded, cried, or offered something in return, but because she had finally said what she wanted without apologizing for it.

Alessandro picked up his jacket from the chair beside him.

"One more thing."

She straightened.

"The agreement remains in place. You will attend the wedding, and you will understand that being my wife carries responsibilities. I won't have you walking into dangerous situations simply to prove that you are independent."

"I have no desire to prove anything to your enemies."

"Good."

"And you won't use the agreement to remind me every day that you own my future."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"This is not a contract, I do own you."

She glanced at the documents. 

For a moment, the coldness returned to his face.

Then he said, "We will discuss that another time."

It wasn't the answer she wanted, but she decided not to push him further that night.

She had made her decision. She had set her boundaries. She would see whether his acceptance of her rules meant anything once the wedding was over.

Alessandro started toward the staircase, then stopped.

"Isabella."

She looked up.

"You should know that the people who will attend our wedding will not all be happy about it. Some will believe you are a weakness they can use against me. Others will assume you are here because your father sold you to the highest bidder."

Her stomach tightened.

"Is that what you think?"

"No."

The answer was immediate.

"I think you are a woman who has been placed in a difficult position by people who should have protected her. What you become in this house is your decision."

She stared at him, uncertain what to do with the words.

Alessandro continued up the stairs, leaving her alone with her glass of water and thoughts she could not yet put into order.

She had expected a monster.

She had found a man who could be ruthless, who made calculated decisions, and who had accepted a marriage without caring whether the woman involved wanted it. He was not suddenly good because he had agreed to two rules, and she would not forget how she had come to the mansion.

But perhaps she could begin here.

Perhaps she could build a life in the space he had given her, even if she had not chosen how she arrived.

The next morning, Alessandro entered his study to find Lorenzo waiting with a cup of coffee.

"You look entertained," Alessandro remarked.

"I am."

"That usually means trouble."

Lorenzo placed the cup on the desk.

"Your future wife has rules."

Alessandro removed his watch and set it beside the papers on his desk.

"So I discovered."

"She told you?"

"She negotiated them with me at midnight."

Lorenzo's eyebrows rose. "At midnight?"

"She came downstairs for water."

"And left with permission to leave the estate and an agreement that you would listen to her concerns?"

Alessandro gave him a warning look.

Lorenzo grinned. "I would have paid good money to see that conversation."

"You would have paid nothing. You would have been removed from the room."

"Still worth it."

Alessandro picked up his coffee, but his attention drifted to the window overlooking the gardens.

He had expected Isabella to cry, plead, or attempt to bargain with him using promises she could not keep. He had not expected her to study her situation, make a decision, and then establish conditions of her own.

She was not fearless. He had seen the uncertainty in her hands and the way she had taken a breath before challenging him.

But she had spoken anyway.

That was more interesting than fearlessness.

"Are you going to honour her rules?" Lorenzo asked.

"Yes."

His brother looked surprised.

Alessandro's expression hardened. "Don't mistake my acceptance for weakness."

"I wouldn't dare."

"She will be my wife in a few days. If she is to live in this house, she should be able to speak to me without believing every disagreement will become a punishment."

Lorenzo's teasing expression softened.

"That's almost reasonable of you."

"Get out of my study."

Lorenzo laughed as he headed for the door.

Alessandro returned to his paperwork, but the image of Isabella standing in the dim corridor remained in his mind.

She had agreed to marry him without pretending that she trusted him.  while making it clear that she would not allow the Marriage to erase her voice.

He had wanted a wife who would serve a purpose.

He had not expected one who would challenge the way he ruled his own house.

And, to his own surprise, he found that he liked it.

But there was one thing Isabella did not yet know.

The marriage agreement had been created to protect Alessandro's position against his enemies.

And now that the wedding was approaching, one of those enemies had discovered exactly who the bride would be.

At 9:17 that morning, Marco entered the study carrying a sealed envelope.

"We intercepted this at the gate," he said. "It was addressed to you."

Alessandro broke the seal and unfolded the single sheet of paper inside.

There were only two lines.

A wife is a weakness, Alessandro.

Let's see how long you can keep this one alive.

His expression turned to stone.

For several seconds, the room remained silent.

Then Alessandro reached for his telephone.

"Double the security around the house," he ordered. "And find out who sent this."

Marco nodded. "What about Isabella?"

Alessandro looked toward the window, beyond which Isabella was walking through the gardens with Maria.

"She doesn't leave this estate without security. Not for a moment."

"Should I tell her why?"

Alessandro folded the letter and slipped it into his pocket.

"Not yet."