Her grandfather’s index finger thumped against the table. “In the eyes of your family, you are engaged to this man. He proposed to you last night in front of us all. And he has now spent the night with you.”
“But we didn’t—”
“He was in your bed?”
Color burned across her cheekbones. “Primo,” she muttered.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He nodded as though that sealed the deal and drank a long swallow of coffee. “I will speak to the priest and discuss dates while you and your mother attend to such matters as the dress and flowers. Your babbo will have a conversation with Constantine about his duties as a husband. Are we clear on this matter?”
She waited a split second to see if Constantine planned to say something helpful. Anything. Apparently he didn’t, since he simply stretched out his long legs and buried his smile in the steam rising from his coffee mug. Gianna shot to her feet, tightening the belt of her robe with a swift jerk that nearly cut off her circulation.
Fine. She’d just claimed she was a woman in charge of her own destiny. Time to prove it. “I understand why you think we should marry, Primo. But you can’t force me to the altar.” She glared at Constantine. “None of you can. I’m not Luc and Téa to be threatened into a marriage I don’t want.”
“Who says you don’t want it?” Constantine spoke up for the first time. “You know perfectly well this is where our relationship has been heading. There was never any doubt about that.”
“What relationship?” she shot back. “We felt a few sparks. Exchanged a few kisses. But we don’t know anything about each other. Certainly not enough for marriage.”
“You have felt The Inferno with this man?” Primo broke into the conversation.
She’d never been able to lie to her grandfather. She doubted she’d be able to this time, either. She came as close as she could manage. “Maybe.”
Constantine held out his right hand, palm up. “Definitely. We felt it the first time we touched.” At Primo’s lifted brow, he added, “Ariana’s wedding.”
“So many months ago?” her grandfather marveled. “And you have not acted in all this time? How is this possible?”
Gianna stabbed a finger in Constantine’s direction. “My point exactly. How can it be The Inferno? If it were, he never could have stayed away. Certainly not this long.”
A hint of anger sparked in Constantine’s gaze and he slowly climbed to his feet, towering over her. “You know damn well why I stayed away.” It was a darn good thing she could speak Italian considering he used it every time he got angry. Which, it would seem, was often. “I had no choice.”
“You did have a choice. You chose to stay away,” she retorted, folding her arms across her chest. She didn’t care if it made her look defensive. She felt defensive.
“Chose?” Anger flashed, caught fire. “I had nothing to offer but my name.”
“That would have been more than enough for me,” she retorted.
“It would have dishonored me to live off my wife’s money and provide nothing in return,” he shot back. “For the past nineteen months I have worked day and night to build a business. And I succeeded. I succeeded well enough to move here. Did I ask you to come to me in Italy? No. Because I know how much your family means to you. Instead I opened my business in San Francisco so we would have each other and your family. And what do you tell me when I arrive?” Fury ripped through his voice. “You tell me you’ve moved on. Moved on!”
“It had been nearly two years,” she protested. “Was I supposed to wait forever?”
He kept going as though she’d never interrupted. “You had moved on to that bastard d’Angelo. A man without scruples, without honor. A man who tried to drug you in order to force you into marriage.”
“If he’d succeeded—” and just the thought had her breaking out in a cold sweat “—I would have told him the same thing I’m telling you. I won’t be forced into marriage. Not by anyone, for any reason.”