Free The Marriage He Must Keep by Dani Collins Page B

she could relearn how to think for herself. “As you’ve pointed out, you have a lot of demands on your time. You won’t see much of him anyway. At least here, he’ll have his grandmother every day.”
    Not completely true, since Ysabelle was already talking about returning to her new lover in the south of France. Octavia forced herself to meet Alessandro’s daunting gaze.
    “Your parents will want to meet him,” he said.
    She pressed her lips together. Her father hadn’t responded to her email informing him of Lorenzo’s safe birth, only made a deposit of a ridiculous amount into her childhood allowance account. Her mother had sent flowers with a tag that read Congratulations. In Octavia’s mind, the word had come across as deeply sarcastic.
    “My parents are as capable of climbing onto an airplane as your mother is,” she pointed out, tone sharpening with anger that they hadn’t even called.
    “Don’t take out your anger toward Primo on me, Octavia,” Alessandro warned in a low, dangerous tone. “You’re better than that.”
    A disbelieving laugh escaped her while an uncomfortable rush of adrenaline burned through her limbs as the moment became a confrontation. It wasn’t like her to push back, but she had to.
    “I’m not angry with Primo. I hate him with every cell in my body,” she corrected with a tremble in her voice. “I am angry with you. You left me here with him.”
    He absorbed that with a small rock back on his heels.
    “I accept that. But I can’t fire my cousin for interfering with my marriage then go home without a wife. You can imagine how things look from a distance. Some are already siding with Primo.” His jaw tightened. “I can’t have that kind of rift, Octavia. You and I must present a united front. You need to show you’re not holding a grudge against the entire family. Together, we show everyone we are prepared to resume our lives without him and everyone will fall into line.”
    “You want me to pretend we’re happily married,” she confirmed. “Despite all that’s happened.” She was crushing Lorenzo’s soft new jacket into a ball against her diaphragm.
    “I’m not trying to downplay what he’s done, but we have to move past it. We can’t let it impact our marriage.”
    A million responses tore through her mind, but the one that came out was an incredulous, “What marriage?”
    “We’re not talking about Primo, are we?” he said grimly, expression shuttering. “You think I was dishonest about my reasons for marrying you.” He folded his arms. “You’re turning this into something bigger than it is, cara . Why I married you doesn’t matter. We are married and we’re going to stay that way.”
    This was the man she’d caught glimpses of when he spoke with other powerful men, like her father. When she had stood beside him at company events and seen minions leap to do his bidding before he’d finished stating what he wanted. No one said no to him, but she had to. Had to.
    “Of course it doesn’t matter to you ,” she corrected, blinking and trying to ignore that her eyes were stinging, hoping the low light hid how wet they were growing. “Because I mean nothing to you. I realize that now, thank you, although I admit it was a bit of a shock. I mean, I knew my father didn’t care which Ferrante took me so long as one of you did—he’s never had my best interests at heart—but I thought you , at least, had been more discerning. I thought you decided that night that you liked me, but no.” It hurt so much to face that. Her voice scraped all the way up her breastbone, abrading her throat. “I didn’t go into our marriage expecting love, Alessandro.”
    She had to flick her gaze away. The yearning had been there, no matter how self-deluded the wish had been. The death of that hope twisted her lungs in her chest, filling her voice with the wretchedness that gripped her.
    “But I expected you to care. Not a lot, but enough to keep me from dying in