I can see the flickers of jealousy in his eyes when the Graziano twins flirt with me, when Carlos asks me about my favorite books, when Matteo describes the summer house he wants to take me to—alone, he adds pointedly—if he’s my choice. I canseethat he hates the idea of any of these other men having possession of me, touching me, taking me for their own. But as far as I can tell, that changes nothing.
The moment the last guest leaves, I turn to Angelo from where we’re standing at the foot of the staircase. “I don’t want to marry any of them,” I whisper.
His expression is harder than I’ve seen it before when he looks at me, his jaw set. “You’ll have to,” he says finally. “Rizzo has made it plain, by sending Andre here, that he won’t suffer delays. Hewillmarry you to Andre Romano if we don
