The Price Of His Desire

The Family

There was a funeral, the reason we had to fly out so urgently. I changed my clothes the moment we landed. Sarah had already made the arrangements. I slipped into a black knee length dress, a long blazer, and matching heels. The outfit felt somber and heavy, fitting for what was ahead.

I felt nervous, even though Sarah had told me it was Alfonso’s father’s funeral. I barely knew anything about him or his family, but I was sure they would all be there. I sat quietly beside Alfonso as we drove to the cemetery, my hands clasped tightly in my lap.

Rome was breathtaking. The streets were lined with ancient buildings, the kind you only ever see in pictures. Everything felt old and beautiful, yet the air carried a heaviness that matched the occasion. It was my first time outside the country, and instead of excitement, all I felt was unease.

“I need you to take this and wear it,” Alfonso said, breaking me out of my thoughts. I turned to look at him. In his hand was a small red box. I knew what it was even before opening it. A ring.

I tensed up before lifting the lid. It was beautiful, easily the most expensive thing I had ever held. I looked at his face, but he only stared back at me, expressionless.

“You wouldn’t be seen as my wife if you don’t have that on,” he said. “You must wear it at all times in public.” His tone was calm but filled with authority, leaving no room for argument.

I nodded slowly. I stared at the ring for a moment, took a deep breath, and slipped it onto my finger. It felt heavy, not just in weight but in meaning. I still could not process the fact that this was my life now.

Arriving at the cemetery made my chest tighten as I saw the crowd gathered. Luxurious cars were parked all around. Alfonso stood beside me, and I reached for his arm to lock mine with his.

“You don’t need to say anything to anyone. Just walk and do whatever I say,” he told me, and I nodded quietly.

I felt the urge to ask questions, but I knew this was not the right time.

He walked me toward the crowd, with Sarah and his guards following closely behind. Heads turned the moment people sensed his presence. I tightened my grip on his arm as eyes shifted from him to me, curiosity and judgment flickering across their faces.

The ceremony was almost over. The coffin was already lowered into the ground, and the priest was reading the final verses. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone, keeping my gaze fixed on the ground.

But then I felt it, someone’s eyes on me. I looked up and met her gaze. She was older, elegant, and the resemblance was unmistakable. She had to be his mother.

Alfonso gave her a small nod, probably waiting for the ceremony to end before approaching her. I just stood there, my heart pounding, my nerves on edge. I could not stop thinking about what would happen next. Were they expecting Alfonso to bring home a wife?

After the burial, Alfonso excused himself and went to meet his mother. They spoke for a while, and I noticed her glancing at me between their conversation. Her expression shifted from curiosity to something darker as Alfonso continued talking.

“Could you help me with translation, just in case? I don’t understand Italian,” I asked Sarah, who gave me a small smile.

“Of course. You look so tense. You need to breathe a little,” she said with concern.

“I mean, I am. I don’t know what to expect—” I began, but a girl’s voice cut me off. She spoke in Italian, a teenager, and before I could react, she gave me a quick hug.

“This is Alfonso’s niece, Faye. She was wondering who you were,” Sarah explained.

“Are you his girlfriend?” the girl asked in English, catching me off guard. Her fluency surprised me. I guessed, like Alfonso, some of his family spoke English too.

“She’s my wife,” I heard Alfonso say behind me.

I turned to look at his mother, but she was already seated in her car. Faye stared at her uncle in shock, her mouth slightly open. She spoke rapidly in Italian, gesturing between the two of us, her disbelief written all over her face.

Alfonso did not answer her. Instead, he motioned for us to head back to the car.

As we walked away, my thoughts drifted to his mother’s expression. I had not met her yet, but I could already feel it. There would be fire in her eyes when we did.

The air in the car felt thick between us. Alfonso looked lost in his own thoughts, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular. I sat quietly beside him, searching for answers I knew I would not find.

The question that kept circling in my mind was why. Why me? Why did he want me to be his wife? What was his motive?

We walked past the living area to a large door. Alfonso opened it, revealing a room filled with people. About twelve of them sat around a long table, including his mother. The tension was thick, the room divided in a way that made it easy to sense a feud among them. I avoided making eye contact with anyone.

A man stood up as we entered, spoke to Alfonso in Italian, and gestured for him to take a seat. Alfonso remained standing. He spoke first in Italian, then switched to English before sitting down.

“She is my wife. And she deserves to be here as part of the family,” he said firmly, also mentioning that I only understood English.

I heard murmurs ripple through the room, and when I looked up, I saw shock written on their faces.

“A wife we know nothing about,” one man said, rising to his feet. His tone was sharp. Then he switched languages, speaking quickly, and finally returned to English. His next words made my stomach twist.

“You’re not going to get your hands on the inheritance just because you brought in a wife,” he said. “The clause your father left still stands, and you did not meet up to it.”

The man who I believed might be the family’s lawyer gestured for everyone to calm down as Alfonso held my hand and guided me to a seat a little farther from the rest. My heart was beating fast, the air in the room felt heavy and tense. I watched them exchange words I could not understand.

Alfonso suddenly stood up, anger flashing across his face, and approached the man who had spoken earlier. I assumed it was his uncle. His tone grew sharp, and frustration laced his voice. Then he slammed his hand on the table, the sound echoing through the room.

All I could do was watch, my pulse racing, unable to follow their words but understanding the anger. They were definitely arguing over inheritance.

Then his mother entered, her presence enough to silence both men. She spoke firmly in Italian, then looked at me, noticing my confusion.

“Paulo isn’t even here, so it’s best this meeting gets adjourned until next time,” she said. For a brief moment, I wondered if she had switched to English just to make me feel included.

The lawyer immediately agreed and dismissed the meeting.

“Follow me,” Alfonso said shortly after, his voice low and hard. He turned and walked out of the room. I quickly rose to my feet and followed him, trying to keep up as we moved through the long hallways.

Gladly, I almost bumped into Sarah on the way. I heaved a sigh of relief, and she smiled.

“It’s okay, come this way,” she said, holding my hand. We climbed upstairs until we reached a double door, which she opened. Alfonso’s room.

Just as I had imagined, it was exactly what I expected. Very European and minimalistic at the same time. A few art pieces on the wall, spacious, well organized, and undeniably masculine. The room smelled so much like him, his scent filling the air in a way that made me breathe in deeper than I meant to.

“So this is his room. Your room now,” Sarah said, showing me around and leading me to the closet where she had already packed my bags. She tried to keep her tone professional, but I could not help the urge to ask her about Alfonso.

“You don’t seem bothered that I’m Alfonso’s wife,” I said, catching her off guard.

It took her a moment before she answered.

“I’m only here to do my job, ma’am.”

“Call me Diana,” I said softly. “I know, but can’t you see how lost and confused I look? If not anything, I’d really appreciate it if you could tell me what I’ve gotten myself into.”

She stopped what she was doing, turned to me, and held my hands.

“I wish I knew, Diana. But in all the years I’ve worked with him, this marriage to you is the most surprising thing he has ever done. I wish I knew his motive, but I don’t,” Sarah said.

Her words echoed in my mind. All I could think about was that it was up to me to figure out why a man like Alfonso would marry someone like me, someone who happened to be indebted to him.

It didn’t make sense.

And for the first time, I realized that whatever bound me to Alfonso wasn’t gratitude or duty. It was something darker, something I couldn’t yet name.