“No. I mean, you’re the ones who want to get rid of me.”

I laugh. She’s sassy tonight. Maybe it’s her natural state, emerging with wine and a sense of safety. I slide my palm between her thighs. “I could have changed my mind, now I know you can cook?”

She inhales. “I was so nervous. I’ve never cooked for men before.”

I like that she was nervous. “What else can you cook?”

“A bit of everything. Pasta mostly.”

“You mean boiling water and throwing it in?”

“No. I can make potato gnocchi and tortellini and ravioli. Lots of things. Although I’d need a rolling machine.”

I kiss her neck, so she won’t see me smile. “What a delightful little girl you’re turning out to be.”

“T-thank you.”

Whether she’s aware of it or not, she’s spreading her legs, practically daring me to dip a hand between her folds.

“Is that what you want in a wife?” she asks. “A woman who cooks pasta?”

“My wife will not cook.”

“Because she’ll be too fancy to get her hands dirty?”

Here it is again. The teasing sass. “Exactly, bella. My mistress, on the other hand…”

“So, you want a woman who cooks, but not as a wife or mother to your children?”

I sigh. “I couldn’t explain to an Americano like you.”

“Didn’t you grow up in America?”

“I did, but that doesn’t make me American. Italians bring their homeland wherever they travel, as the Romans did.”

She smiles. “Did the Romans have mistresses?”

I nip the side of her neck. “Yes.”

She giggles. “Ah, I see.”

“Having a mistress is not a shameful thing. Marriage is an arrangement between two families. Your wife is your business partner. A mistress is a person you chose for pleasure.”

January considers this. “Is that what your father did?”

“My parents married for love.”

“Really?”

“You’re confusing that statement for a happy one, bella. My parents were miserable.”

“What happened?”

I raise my palms and close them over her breasts, squeezing her lightly.

She squirms. “Mr. Morelli…”

As soon as I hear that wild, desperate note in her voice, I drop my hands. I’m no horny teenager. If January is to be mine, she needs to learn these games will go on as I see fit. That she cannot control me with her body any more than she could control me with tears.

“My parents met on a holiday in Borneo. My mother was engaged to an Earl and my father, Vincent Morelli, was a financial investor. It was love at first sight. Three days after they met, my mother gave back her ring and my father handed her his.”

January’s eyes shine like stars. “Wow. So, they got married?”

“They did. My mother’s family were furious. My Nonno threw her out of the house.”

She gapes at me. “But the Morellis are one of the richest families in New York!”

“True, but to my Nonno, all American money was new money.” Her incredulous look makes me smile. “My mother came to live with my father in Manhattan. They were married and a year later I was born.”