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But I didn’t.
Maybe because a part of my mind drifted back to our night in Italy. And as soon as she asked that question, the only thing I can think of is her shapely legs wrapped around me, her neck exposed to me as she throws her head back in ecstasy.
Fuck.
But the part that’s bothering me isn’t the idea that I mightwantbabies with Emily. It’s the fact that if I want to make this marriage lookrealto my grandmother, then babies might actually be a part of the bargain.
And I know for a fact that Emily willneveragree to that.
I pass a mirror in the hallway of my castle. I stop short to stare at myself.I look like hell.Leaning closer, I rub at the shadows under my eyes. And then I trace the light scratch that Emily gave me.
Once I get some food in her and she settles in, I can try a do-over. Torture isn’t the only way to get what I want out of people. Manipulation can be softer … sweeter, even.
Who knows what I’ll gain if I try to be gentler with Emily.
But truthfully, I don’t want gentle. The memory of kissing her and touching her invades my mind, and my pants strain again at the thought.
I can’t seem to push out of my mind. She’s somehow taken root deep inside.
And it’s only a matter of time before those roots reach from my mind to somewhere else.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I yank it out before the first vibration finishes, eager for a distraction.
It’s Sima.
“Emilio Lanzzare knows,” He speaks as soon as the line connects. “And so does Augusto. Both of them seem equally pissed.”
“And?”
“They want you to know that you broke protocol.”
“That’s the fucking point.” I clench the phone in my hand. “Are the Ferratas calling for war?”
“As far as I can tell, yes.” Sima answers. “But Emilio is sitting this one out. It seems that you made the right call in assuming he doesn’t want to start something across the ocean. Not yet at least.”
“Of course he doesn’t, not with the East Coast Bratvas breathing down his neck as it is.”
“There’s more.” Sima clears his throat. “Alla Antonovna wants to know if there’s a date for the ceremony.”
“Tell her that I will inform her in person.”
“Understood.”
I’ve barely lowered my phone when footsteps parade from the other end of the hall, rushing in my direction.
“Konstantin Yurevich! There you are!”
One of my gardeners, her thick overalls stained with grass and mud, halts in front of me. I think her name is Anna, but she looks so much like her cousin Polina, who also work for me, that I get them mixed up. Her cheeks are ruddy from the effort of sprinting.
“Chto?” I ask warily.
She points out the nearest window. “Your guest is trying to swim across the lake!”
I don’t have to ask her any other questions to know that she’s talking about Emily.
“Dammit, is she crazy?” I hiss under my breath, running down the corridor. Some of my staff gasp at the sight of me, dodging out of my way.
I open the first door I come across that takes me outside.
