"I don't want you," he says, voice rough. "But I won't let them have you either."

"Why?" I breathe.

"You move into my room tonight," he says. "You wear my ring on your finger. And tomorrow, at the family meeting, you smile at me like you mean it."

I look up at Alessandro. His jaw is clenched. His hands — those hands that have never touched me with kindness — are shaking.

I was a fool.

"And I am a very cruel man when it comes to what's mine."

Four words. That's already more than his monthly average.