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The frown remained for several pregnant seconds, but then he shrugged and gave a long-suffering sigh.

‘Va bene, Eva,’ he murmured, the solemn promise in his eyes making the bubble of hope more robust, even when he added, ‘If I see a man looking at your breasts again, I will consider not gouging his eyes out.’

‘Fair enough.’ I smiled. ‘Although, after last night, I doubt any man would dare.’

We still had a long way to go. But it felt like a start.

He ran his thumb down my cheek, then asked, ‘You will come back to my bed now?’

It wasn’t really a question, but at least he’d attempted to phrase it as one. And given I could still feel the pulse of pleasure inside me, not a hard one to answer. ‘Yes… But I won’t be a prisoner in this house,’ I countered.

‘You must not go out alone, it is not safe,’ he said, the arsey tone back, but beneath it I could hear the concern.

‘I don’t mind taking bodyguards with me, if you really think it’s necessary,’ I offered.

‘I do,’ he said straight back.

I wondered if he realised his fears for my safety proved there was already more between us than the limited, convenient marriage he’d tried to insist upon.

I tucked the thought away, though, so I wouldn’t let him get his own way again.

‘But I’m not asking your permission, Dante, to leave the house.’

He raked his fingers through his hair, his eyes narrowing. But when he tilted his head to one side, considering my ultimatum, it reminded me of the day on Cala Verde when I’d stood up to him once before.

‘This I can accept, but only if you let me know where you are at all times.’

I grinned at the frustrated tone. Teaching Dante to compromise was going to have to be another work in progress. Being married to this man was always going to involve butting up against that dominating alpha personality. Luckily, I’d always found that side of him hot as hell… And the good news was, I hadn’t had to deny us both sex this time to get my way.

‘Deal,’ I said. But when I offered him my hand to shake on it, he grabbed my fingers and tumbled me back onto the bed.

‘I have a better way to seal this deal,’ he said, caging me in, before his lips closed over one swollen nipple.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

One month later

Evie

I ran out of Central Park with Aldo—the bodyguard who’d drawn the short straw this morning and was having to accompany me on my morning run—my mind preoccupied with everything that had happened between Dante and me in the first full month of our marriage…

And everything that hadn’t.

I’d come to adore New York. The city’s history, culture and vibrancy and the can-do attitude of its residents had convinced me I could achieve anything too. And I had in many ways. After a very difficult start to my ‘career’ as Dante Malvini’s wife, I now had a staff of three people—an EA, a stylist and an event planning admin assistant—who helped me coordinate the events which had become an important part of my role for Rocco in Manhattan.

Dante despised networking and, I had discovered, was not particularly good at negotiation in business either. When he gave a command, he expected it to be obeyed, immediately, which had not just created friction in our marriage, but also in the businesses he now controlled for the Syndicate. Shattered egos needed to be soothed, and civil servants and politicians schmoozed who Dante had no patience with—which was where I came in.

Luckily, I enjoyed the work of planning and executing the perfect social event and I knew Dante had come to appreciate me taking charge of that aspect of the business—and, slowly but surely, he’d learned the difference between flirtation and being sociable. He still tended to glare hard at any man who got too familiar with me—and never left my side when we were socialising—but at least he hadn’t threatened to have anyone’s eyes gouged out again… Or at least, not out loud.

He treated me like a wife now, not a hostage. He even appreciated my input when he was struggling to control his frustration if a business rival was proving problematic. After a lifetime of doing things the illegal way, his new role was an even steeper learning curve for him than mine was for me.

But as I jogged down a side street towards the back alley which led to our townhouse, our conversation the night before came back to me… And my newfound confidence took a direct hit.

I knew Dante respected me now, because he treated me as an equal and not as a subordinate or, worse, a prisoner. But when was he going to let me into his thoughts, his feelings? I had been using my runs to bolster my confidence each morning—and focus on the positive progress we’d made over the past four weeks. But this morning, the endorphin rush hadn’t had the desired effect.

I’d convinced myself that Dante’s childhood—and the terrible rejection he’d suffered at his father’s hands—was the reason he found it so hard to lower his guard with me and talk about our relationship.

And I’d tried to be more subtle since my first attempt to get him to talk about that day again. But after being shut down or ignored or having the conversation derailed with sex—his favourite distraction technique—I’d finally given up on the subtle approach last night.