tell me, cara. What am I to do when I want sex?”
The seemingly subservient woman of the last few moments disappeared. Aimee’s eyes flashed with her old defiance.
“You’ll do whatever you must but you’ll be discreet about it.”
Nicolo burst out laughing. She felt her hands ball. How she wanted to slap that laugh from his face!
“Let me be sure I understand this. I marry you. I give you my name. My title. And at some point in the future, we divorce and I end up with alimony payments and child support. In return for all this, you will not complain when I keep a mistress. Is that right?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he swept her into his arms and drew her against him.
“Here is how it will be,” he growled. “You will be my wife. You will be available to me whenever I wish. Night. Day. Anywhere, anytime. If I also want a mistress, I will have one.”
“I won’t marry you under those conditions!”
“Si. You will. And if there is a divorce, it will be because I have wearied of you.” She tried to wrench free; his hold on her tightened. “And before you say, ‘no, Nicolo, I won’t marry you under those conditions,’ consider this.” He leaned toward her, eyes glittering. “I can take this child from you the day it’s born. Do not shake your head! I am Prince Nicolo Antonius Barbieri. No court would deny me the right to my own flesh and blood. Is that clear?”
“You no good, evil, vicious bastard,” she hissed, “you son of a—”
Nicolo captured her mouth with his, kissed her again and again until she trembled in his arms.
Then he picked up the small suitcase near her feet and jerked his head toward the door.
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