Chapter 4: Getting Things Straight

Sitting on the sofa by the window, I look around the room. The perfect, tidy room is now a chaos. The bed is undone, and the cushions, along with the sheets and comforter, are on the floor. One of the nightstands and the bench in front of the vanity are overturned; the vanity mirror is shattered. I look at the door with hatred. I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I’m on the verge of going crazy when the door opens and Aldo appears, his eyes widening at the mess.

He steps aside, and a woman carrying a tray appears, stopping in the doorway when she sees the state of the room. Her green eyes look at me with surprise; she’s a young girl.

“Leave that on the side table,” Aldo instructs her in a serious tone, and she hurries to comply.

“Take that back,” I order Aldo with a rough gesture.

“The master ordered that lunch be brought to you here.”

I stand up and walk towards Aldo while the girl steps aside, observing everything in detail.

“I’m going downstairs to eat.”

“The master said you…”

“The master can tell me himself,” I lift my chin and brush past him, hitting his shoulder. He sputters, but I ignore him.

I fix my hair and descend the stairs, pausing when I reach the ground floor and looking around. I haven’t had time to explore the villa, so I’m a little lost.

“To the left,” someone whispers behind me. I see the service girl coming down with a tray. I do as she says and walk through the living room before finding my destination.

“Enjoy your meal,” I say, announcing my presence. Five heads turn in my direction.

Salvatore presides at one end of the table, while Gianluca sits at the other. Next to the latter are his wife and Martina; Renzo sits across from Martina.

They want to see me sink, but they’re wrong if they think I’m an easy person.

I can be a bitch, too.

I look at the service girl.

“Your name?”

She hesitates, looking around before returning her gaze to me.

“Ashley,” she whispers.

“Good, Ashley. I’d like you to set a place for me.” I walk over and sit on Salvatore’s right side, who maintains an impassive expression.

The girl disappears down a small passageway, which I assume is the kitchen.

“I gave an order,” he snaps through clenched teeth. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

“I didn’t realize I was your prisoner in this house, husband.”

My words make him even angrier; it's so evident.

Martina glares at me from her position while Ashley returns and places plates, cutlery, a napkin, and glasses she carries on a tray.

“Thank you,” I say when she sets my food down in front of me, takes the wine, pours me a bit, and then withdraws.

“I hope you like the Ratatouille,” Evelina says before exchanging a look with her daughter.

“I tried one of the best at The Core in London. Are you familiar with it?”

“I’ve heard wonderful things about the restaurant, besides its recognition.”

“Three Michelin stars.” I pick up my fork and take a bite of the food under everyone’s watchful eye. I savor the meal, and when I swallow, I look at Salvatore’s mother. “I suppose we can’t expect blood from a stone.”

Her offended expression is my satisfaction.

It’s actually delicious, but I won’t admit it.

“I suppose you’re used to doing whatever you want, aren’t you, sister-in-law?” Renzo speaks from his seat.

Evelina lifts her chin before delivering her venom.

“I don't know what it’s like in your family, but the women in this one obey and respect the man’s authority.”

“Meaning you kiss the ground they walk on, rather.”

“Enough,” Salvatore hisses.

“It seems you don't understand the concept of family,” Martina seconds, looking at me with disdain.

“No? Maybe not.” I pick up my glass, take a sip, and look at her. “Tell me something, do you have any position within your family?” She doesn't answer. “Let me guess, your brothers run everything with your father while your main task is to marry a man who will benefit this family.”

“No, I don't work in the company because I am a queen, and my brothers treat me as such.”

“Of course,” I snap, rolling my eyes.

“We have women in positions within the hotels and the factory,” Salvatore announces through clenched teeth.

“My friends work for the family. They are both intelligent and productive women,” Martina says, catching my attention.

“I see.” I look at Salvatore. “Then I suppose it’s time I told them I’m starting work at the hotel, and I’ll be taking charge of the Inverness project along with Lorenzo, so I guess we’ll be working together.”

Salvatore glares at me.

“So you plan to go back there, where that man is,” it’s not a question.

“Wow, I didn't know you were so territorial, brother.”

“Renzo,” his tone is cold. Renzo only gives him a mocking smile.

Aldo appears at the dining room entrance and looks at Salvatore.

“The mistress’s belongings have arrived,” he announces.

“You can speak to me, Aldo, I’m not just painted on,” my tone conveys the irritation of the situation as I stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Salvatore’s hand grabs my wrist, and I look at him.

“I’m going to make sure everything has been sent.”

I shrug off his grip in front of the rest of his family and leave the dining room without a second glance.

Two trucks are waiting outside. One has packed boxes and luggage; the second is pulling a single horse trailer.

Freya, I think, feeling a smile tug at my lips when I see my mare is here. One of the Rossetti villa workers gets down and opens the trailer for me, and Freya descends.

“Hello, beautiful,” I whisper, taking the reins and stroking her muzzle while she snorts.

I look at Aldo, who is watching me with an impassive expression.

“Am I to assume that everything is ready for her stay?”

He opens his mouth and closes it again.

“Gianluca knew perfectly well that my mare would be here this afternoon.”

“Mr. Di Sante did not inform us of anything regarding that,” he replies, emphasizing the word Mr.

Salvatore’s figure appears behind the man, who steps aside. Salvatore walks down the entrance steps and stops a few meters from me when Freya bucks slightly.

“Your father knew my things were arriving today, and with them, my mare. Now, Aldo tells me there’s no space for her in your stables.”

“I didn’t…” Aldo interjects, but falls silent when Salvatore raises his hand without even looking at him.

“Tell the stable hands to prepare the space for the animal,” he orders in a serious tone while I hold Freya by the reins.

I gesture to the worker who brought her, and he leads her back to the trailer while Salvatore’s employees do as they are ordered.

We stand for a moment, side by side, but neither of us speaks for a few seconds.

I clear my throat before speaking.

“I think I’ll go and show them where to take my things.”

“I’ve been told you trashed the room you were assigned.”

“Yes, well, I don’t take well to being locked up like a damned hostage, nor to being treated like an old rag.”

I look at him with hatred.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he says in a flat tone. “Stick to what is expected of you, and we won’t have problems.”

“What you want is a damn trophy wife on your arm, and I am a woman who thinks, who feels…”

“You are a Di Sante now, remember that.”

“I am a Rossetti.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Keep going down that road, and you’ll see how bad the situation can get.”

I face him, watching how his dark eyes study me without showing any expression.

“Spare me your threats. This is a peace agreement, not an internal war.”

“Are you sure about that?”

What the hell?

“What is your damned problem?” I frown. “Can you tell me what’s bothering you? If you weren’t happy with this agreement, you should have made it clear, because I doubt a man like you was forced to accept this situation,” I spread my arms in exasperation.

“It’s none of your business,” he replies simply and walks away, only to stop a few meters ahead to look at me. “I have a dinner to attend tonight, so be ready at seven.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. You are supposed to be my wife. You must be with me at these kinds of events.”

“Of course, how could I forget.” I speak with disdain. Salvatore says nothing more and walks away.

Once alone, Ashley appears and guides the men inside with my things. I suppose I’ll have some busy afternoons organizing everything.

Good, at least I’ll be distracted a bit from being in this damn house.

When they signal that the space for Freya is ready, I walk with her along the path to the stables, ignoring the curious and lascivious looks of some men and others who are simply admiring the specimen I’m leading.

It’s well known that the Di Santes love horses, and I must say it was a relief to be able to bring Freya with me. Having her at the family villa was never an option, as my mother is allergic to these animals, or so she claims.

She detests them.

Some murmurs catch my attention, and I find the man I assume is in charge of the stable.

“Ma’am, I’m Luciano, the stable boss.”

“A pleasure, Luciano. I’m Helena, and this beauty is Freya.”

“A formidable animal, I must say,” says the short, plump man, who has a friendly look. “If you’d like, follow me, and I’ll show you the space we’ve prepared for her.”

I nod.

My heels click on the stable floor, and he leads me through the place. Luciano tells me about the feed they provide daily, and I agree with it.

“Freya loves to eat oats and green apples,” I announce when we pass in front of a beautiful black horse.

I stop and watch him as he whinnies.

“That’s Perseus,” he says, noticing my curiosity. “He belongs to Mr. Salvatore.” He walks forward, and the horse immediately tries to nip him. He snorts. “He’s a bit rough. The only one who can handle him is your husband.”

“I see,” I murmur. “No wonder they say things resemble their owner.”

He gives me an amused look before continuing down the path.

When I finally leave Freya in her stall, I feel better after confirming that the conditions are optimal for her. Luciano leaves me alone, and I focus on making Freya feel calm before I go.

I hear approaching footsteps and murmurs. I stay quiet when I hear:

“I never thought I’d see a Rossetti with a Di Sante.” A sarcastic smile breaks out on my lips as I listen to the men.

“You see what the pursuit of power does.”

“Yes,” the other unknown voice replies. “What do you think Mrs. Ginevra would have said?” the other whispers.

Ginevra?

I look at both of them when they appear, and they pale upon seeing me.

“Gentlemen,” I say with a calm voice.

They open and close their mouths.

“Mrs. Di Sante,” they murmur nervously.

A tall, intimidating figure appears.

“Shouldn’t you be working instead of gossiping?”

Renzo, Salvatore’s brother, appears and glares at them.

“Excuse us, sir,” they stammer before I watch both men practically run away from us.

I look at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Who is Ginevra?”

The question rushes out of my lips before I can think.

He gives me a mysterious smile.

“You don’t want to know,” he replies, letting out a breath. He shifts his gaze from me to Freya before returning it to me. “Come on, sister-in-law, learn from mistakes. Don’t look for what you haven’t lost.”

“Is that a threat?” I inquire curiously.

“It’s advice.”

With that, he walks away, leaving me with more doubts than answers.