I raised an eyebrow. “Well. Finally.” I gave him a faint smile. “At least you’ve heard something interesting before.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“I wasn’t asking for a compliment.” I leaned back in my chair. “So what else?”
“Alessandra is known to be...”
“Yes?”
“Dangerous.”
My smile vanished. I wasn’t sure whether I should feel flattered or insulted.
“I’m dangerous?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you know people are afraid of you.”
I stared at him. Silence fell instantly. For a few seconds, the only sound was the wind sweeping across the deck.
The answer was simple. Too simple, actually. But somehow, it felt more accurate than all the compliments I had ever heard about myself.
I did know people were afraid of me. I had just never considered it something worth thinking about.
“And that’s a problem?” I asked him.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“How you use it.”
I leaned forward slightly. “You talk like someone who’s been watching me for a long time.”
“I watch everyone.”
“Me too?”
“Especially you.”
I fell silent again. Something had changed. Not much. Just a little. But it was enough to make this conversation feel different.
Before, I had only wanted to see my prospective husband’s face. Now I wanted to know who the man sitting across from me really was.
I studied his hands. No ring. No expensive watch. No noticeable scars. His hands rested calmly on the table. Too calmly.
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
Lorenzo looked at me. “Your first serious question?”
“Just answer.”
“Yes.”
There was no explanation. I waited. But he didn’t continue. He clearly had no intention of saying more.
“Who?” I pressed.
“None of your business.”
I let out a short laugh. “If we’re going to get married, it might become my business.”
“We’re not married yet.”
“So you have a problem with this marriage?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I just don’t discuss my work.”
Work, he called it? I studied him for a few moments. Interesting. I had heard people use plenty of different words for the same thing.
Some called it a duty. Some called it an obligation. Others called it a sacrifice. Now Lorenzo called it work. Very simple. Very cold.
“Then what do you do?”
“Protect the family’s interests.”
“Like a Custodi?”
“More or less.”
“More or less?” I smiled. “Are all your answers like this?”
“Often.”
“You’re annoying.”
“I know.”
I almost laughed. Really, I almost did. I nearly lost control.
This man was strange. Not because he was cold. I had met plenty of cold men.
Nor was it because he didn’t talk much. I actually liked people who didn’t talk much.
The problem was that Lorenzo didn’t seem to be trying to impress me. Not even once. That was rare.
Very rare.
I stood and walked toward the ship’s railing. The sea stretched out before me. “Why did you accept this marriage arrangement?”
“Everyone had already decided.”
I turned to him. “Including you?”
“Not me.”
I frowned. “So you’re still considering it?”
“Yes.”
“Considering me?”
“Yes.”
I laughed softly. “You’re awfully bold. That feels presumptuous to me.”
Lorenzo didn’t answer.
I walked back toward him. “Then what are you considering?”
He looked at me. “You.”
I stopped. “And?”
“I’m not finished.”
I shook my head. “How on earth did Dad find you?”
“He looked for me.”
“He’s always looking.” I sat back down. “If you refuse, what happens?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you haven’t thought about the consequences?”
“I have.”
“And?”
“I still decided to come.”
I stared at him for a long moment. I was beginning to understand something. Lorenzo wasn’t easily pushed around. He wasn’t submitting to my father.
At least, not completely. And that made me curious.
“Dad didn’t force you?”
“No.”
“He could have.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still not afraid?”
“Should I be?”
I smiled. “Most people are afraid.”
“I’m not most people.”
Those words again. I was starting to hate them. Or maybe I was starting to like them. I didn’t know. Not yet.
I rested my elbow on the table. “All right. My turn now. I have something to say.”
Lorenzo nodded.
“I have a few conditions.” I had been thinking about them for a while.
“Name them.”
“First, I won’t stop being Alessandra D’Averrano just because I get married. Whoever my prospective husband is—including you.”
“All right.”
“Second, I’m not walking away from my family’s affairs.”
“All right.”
“Third, you don’t get to decide what I can and can’t do.”
“All right.”
I frowned. This man didn’t object to a single condition I gave him.
“Fourth, I won’t live in a house you choose.”
“All right.”
I looked at him. “You don’t want to argue?”
“There’s nothing to argue about yet.”
I took a breath. I couldn’t tell whether this would make things easier for me or become a problem later.