And now was my time to swoop in and get her out of this situation like the good fiancée I was going to play at.

Before I rang her pretty little neck and got her secrets from her.

“Why don’t we go for a walk? It’s a nice night and I can show you the neighborhood.” I was already standing up, sliding my jacket back on that I had removed for dinner and buttoning it up.

If I was good at anything it was leaving a situation I didn’t want to be in.

She looked at me, eyes shifting to the older men who were trying to see what game I was playing at. But I knew men like them and the way I was coming to her rescue was exactly the sort of white knight expectations they had for a man and a woman.

“Surely we can meet you tomorrow for breakfast. We need a night to get to know each other. Ilaria can stay at my place and we can meet for breakfast at 8AM. By then we should have some plans for the wedding and Mama would want to meet my beautiful fiancée. Right?” I offered to them like making plans right away and adding my mother to the  mix was the only logical thing to do.

I looked at her but she didn’t trust me and was glaring at me like I had just spit in her face instead of offering her a way out of this.

She had no reason to trust me and so far we had gotten off completely on the wrong foot. But in this situation it was within her best interest to go along with what I wanted. Make it easier on everyone.

Reaching for the sparkling water I watched her pour herself a glass. Sipping deeply as she thought, looking up after a second and giving me the fakest smile she could muster. Her head nods enough that I sigh in relief.

“Is that okay, papa?” Her voice was sweet and I wondered if she practiced that in her bathroom. The perfect tone to manipulate people.

She is looking at him now, modest and soft, playing her part as a good girl. Someone who takes orders without any sass. The perfect Italian daughter who had both our fathers eating out of her hand.

But she may have them fooled but I didn’t buy her act one bit.

“You will keep my daughter’s honor? There will be a sheet ceremony the morning after your marriage.” Her fathers voice is serious now. No more joking about us and the babies we will make; the baby making needs to be done after we’re officially married.

The sheet test was an old Sicilian tradition that I hadn’t expected anyone to still want to commit to. It was barbaric and another way to control women.

The way that her cheeks pinkened had my head turning as I thought about this minx still being a virgin and feeling my cheeks pull back in a smirk for just a quick second before turning back to her father.

“Her honor will be safe with me until she shares my last name.” My words come out easily knowing that it’s up to me now to keep her intact for my family’s honor as well.

He nodded, satisfied at my answer. As my head spins at the idea of Ilaria being a virgin.

And mine.

Now it’s me that feels like I drank too much wine.

My eyes flicker to my bride-to-be, watching her have anther glass of sparkling water as I move to where she is seated, after shaking her fathers hand.

We would play this game, a gentleman treating her with respect when I really wanted to ring her neck.

I would get her secrets tonight and she would sign the papers for my club. We would manipulate each other which must have been one of the worst ways to start a marriage.

But what choice did she leave me?

Pulling out her chair I offer her my hand, surprised she stands up so easily and isn’t wobbling on her heels. She lets me guide her as we say our goodbyes. Exchanging kisses and promises of an early breakfast with them.

Ilaria is playing the part well enough that for a moment I think marrying her may be an advantage.

The way my father is eating out of her hand when he barely likes anyone and hasn’t smiled this much in years, surprises me. Even the staff of the restaurant comes over to congratulate her and for a moment I am forgetting how she drove me insane earlier and just appreciating her.

She is the type of woman that is an asset to have on your arm and here she is reaching for mine. Slipping her hand through my arm, I’m surprised when she steps closer to me, silently conveying it’s time to leave and making me lead her from the restaurant.

The streets are brick and cobblestone in this section so she keeps her arm linked with mine, leaning against me as I walk with her. Both of us quiet as our feet carry us away from our fathers and somewhere away from the summer crowds that are basking in the beauty of the North End. Taking in the dining al fresco, the shops they are planning to visit tomorrow, and walking around small streets as they oh and ah about different landmarks.

It’s easy to forget how beautiful the neighborhood is. I have taken advantage of it from years of living here.

I grew up with people knowing who my father was and a group of people raising me, looking out for me. I played basketball on the Prince Street courts and did youth hockey at the rink by the water.

This neighborhood was a tiny blip in the city but it had been my whole life, my world. Even now I still live here.

I would probably die here too.

Crossing the street I motion to a little cafe, stepping inside as a young girl looks up at me from her phone. She’s a teenager, Rosa Fiore’s granddaughter who is staying with her for the summer.

I’m surprised when Ilaria pulls away from me, walking closer to the girl and smiling at her, trying to pull the teenager under whatever spell she had on people. But the girl looks at me like she was warned about who I am and therefore places the girl I’m with under the same sort of warning label.

“Can I please get an iced coffee and a cafe latte? Do you just want an espresso, Dante?” She says my name correctly this time and I’m surprised she knows what I want but I nod, reaching into my pocket to pull out cash but she’s tapping her phone against the register and I realize she paid for the coffee before I could and for some reason that infuriates me more.

I’m not going to chastise her in public. If I have something to say to her I’ll wait until it’s just the two of us. But the idea of a woman paying for me unsettles me and it’s a sign of disrespect but again I can’t think of a time in my life where anyone paid for me before.

She walks beside me as we cross the street, headed towards the harbor walk, which is close to where I live.

Ilaria shivers, it’s cool with the dark night and the wind off the Atlantic. Even as she sips her warm coffee and I notice that she had already sucked up her iced coffee.

Who even orders that much caffeine at one time?

She huddles within herself I can see the way her flesh turns to small pebbled bumps that I want to reach out and stroke to smooth over.

Shrugging off my jacket I step closer to her, wrapping it around her shoulders. Feeling her tense as we pause in front of a bench.

I guess this is as good as any time.

Reaching into the pocket I pull out the velvet box, flipping it open so she can see the ring inside. A big diamond with a halo band of smaller diamond stones.

It’s a statement to wear a ring like this and I need her to be a statement to the outside world

Her eyes widen as she looks at me as if she’s just realizing now we’re getting married.

“You should put it on.” I tug it out watching her hold her hands by her side, not making this any easier on me and just making me more annoyed with her, “Give me your hand so I can put your engagement ring on.” I command her softly but she shakes her head, that worried look on her face again, “And why not?” I ask.

“Because I can’t wear an engagement ring from you. Not…not when I have a boyfriend.”

I blink once, twice, three times as I try to make sense of what she is saying to me and yet it all sounds like the garble of the Charlie Brown school teacher.

Did she just say boyfriend?

My eyes are on her as if she is going to have the correct answer to have this make sense because right now all I can see is fury. The jealousy washing over me and making me confused by the possessiveness she brings out in me.