His eyes narrowed, and apologetic Salvatore was instantly gone. “You don’t have to threaten me with murder. I said I was sorry.”

He held my gaze until I blinked and nodded, looking down, my attention absorbed by an invisible piece of lint on my blouse.

“Are you really going to take me to help my sister?”

“You’re not a prisoner, contrary to what you think, Lucia. This contract between us, the circumstances of our families, those things bind us, and although I have expectations of you and won’t tolerate misplaced loyalty, I’m not interested in keeping a prisoner. Neither you nor I can get out of this, even if we wanted to. We have to find some way to live with it.”

Even if we wanted to. Did that mean he didn’t want to? And what did I want?

“I feel like a prisoner. I’m constantly watched. I couldn’t visit with my sister without Marco standing by. I have nothing to do here. You have a cook, people who clean…”

He looked confused. “You’re neither a cook nor a cleaner.”

“But I am your property. You said so yourself. I have a degree, I want to work, but—”

His mouth tightened, and he looked away for a moment. “Come into my study, Lucia.”

“Why?” I didn’t trust him. And as much as I hated to admit it, he scared me.

“So we can talk. That’s all.”

I didn’t move.

“I promise.”

After a moment, I nodded. He gestured for me to go ahead and followed close behind me, opening the door to the study once we reached it and letting me inside. Once he’d closed the door, he moved behind his large desk. I looked around the room. The walls were painted a dark shade of gray, and two windows overlooked the backyard and the forest beyond. The furnishings were made of a dark, heavy wood, and his desk, the focal point, must have been an antique. Directly before it stood a leather sofa, and the shelves along two of the walls contained floor-to-ceiling books. Set apart from the desk and sofa was an armchair, the leather well-worn, with a matching ottoman at its foot. The reading lamp behind the chair was on, and although it was sunny outside, this room remained darker. Masculine. Even the scent here was different, all man.

“Sit down.”

I realized he’d been watching me take it all in. I lowered myself to the couch and faced him, the desk looming between us, him sitting behind it, making me feel small. I smoothed the skirt of my sundress down, unsure what to do with my hands.

Salvatore got up and walked around his desk. Surprising me, he joined me on the couch.

It only made me more uncomfortable, though. If only he’d act like I expected him to…

“What do you know about me?”