from the menu—Ana decided on chicken over fish—and Vittorio ordered the wine, a local vintage, of course, although not one of either of theirs. ‘Always good to consider the competition,’ he said with a smile, and Ana nodded. She did the same when she dined out, which admittedly wasn’t all that often.
When their first courses arrived and the wine had been poured, Ana gave Vittorio as direct a look as she could and said, ‘I have some questions.’
Vittorio took a sip of wine. ‘Very well.’
Nerves made her hands slippery around her wine glass and her voice came out a little breathless. ‘What would you expect of…of a wife?’
Vittorio’s expression was annoyingly inscrutable. He took another sip of wine, cocking his head to regard Ana thoughtfully. ‘I’d expect my wife to be a life partner,’ he said finally. ‘In every sense.’
The answer, so simple, so honest, made Ana feel even more breathless and her cheeks heated. She looked down. ‘Without knowing me, that’s quite a big gamble.’ She looked up at him again, searching for some clue to his emotions, trying to discover just why he had, over all women, chosen her in this surely coveted role.
‘It’s not,’ Vittorio said after a moment, ‘as big a gamble as you think.’
‘What do you mean?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m not about to embark on one of my life’s major decisions without any knowledge at all, Ana. I did some research.’
‘Research?’ she practically spluttered. ‘On me?’
‘Of course.’ He smiled, amused by her outrage. ‘And you can research me if you like. As I said, we are each other’s best assets.’ He sat back, still smiling, and Ana found she was annoyed at his smug confidence. He was so very sure that any research she did would show him to advantage and, annoyingly, she was quite sure of it too.
‘What did you learn?’ she finally asked, her voice stiff with dignity.
‘That you are a hard worker. That you are healthy—’
‘You accessed my medical records?’ Ana squawked, wondering how he had managed to do that, and Vittorio gave a negligent shrug. Nothing, apparently, was beyond the power—or the pale—for the Count of Cazlevara.
‘Now I really feel like a horse,’ she muttered. ‘Would you like to see my teeth as well?’
‘I see them when you speak,’ Vittorio replied with a little smile. ‘They’re very nice.’
Ana just shook her head. Was there any aspect of her life—her body—that he had not researched and inspected? Should she be honoured that she’d passed all these nameless tests? She wasn’t. She was furious and, worse, she felt horribly vulnerable, as if Vittorio had spied on her when she was naked. At least he seemed to have liked what he’d seen.
‘I also learned,’ Vittorio continued blandly, ‘that you are passionate about wine and this region. That you are a good friend to those who know you. And, most importantly, that you are loyal.’
She looked up in curiosity and surprise, remembering how he’d spoken of loyalty the other night. ‘And loyalty is so important to you?’
‘It is,’ Vittorio said and his voice, though still low and modulated, seemed suddenly to vibrate with intensity, ‘paramount.’
Ana stared, trying to digest this new bit of information. Loyalty was surely so important mainly to those who had once been betrayed. What had happened to Vittorio? ‘Are you speaking of fidelity?’ she asked.
‘No, although of course I would expect you to be faithful to me and our marriage vows. I speak of another kind of loyalty. I would expect you to stand by me and the decisions I make, never to take another’s position against me.’ His dark eyes caught and held hers. ‘Can you do that, Ana? It will not always be easy.’
The conversation that had started so matter-of-fact had suddenly become emotional, intense. Dark. ‘If you mean will I never question you—’
His hand slashed through the air. ‘I’m not asking for blind obedience. I want a wife, not a lapdog. But you must realize that, because of my position and my wealth, there are those who seek to discredit me. They would even enlist your aid, attract your sympathy by the foulest and most devious motives. Can you—will you—be loyal to me against those enemies?’
Ana suppressed a shiver. She wanted to make a joke of it, tell Vittorio to stop being so melodramatic, yet she had the terrible feeling that he was deadly serious. ‘Vittorio—’
‘I mean all that I say, Ana,’ he said quietly. He reached across the table to encircle her wrist with his hand, his fingers