Forced To Be The Mafia King's Bride (by Oma Green) novel Chapter 171

Dante's POV

"Keep reading," I said tightly, crossing my arms over my chest.

Her finger trailed down the page as she continued scanning the neatly typed words, the rules I'd spent hours crafting and refining.

"Rule number one: How we are to act in public." Her voice was heavy with skepticism. "I'm to smile at you adoringly. Rule number two: Sleep in the same bed regardless of personal feelings. Rule number three, any grievances or concerns are to be addressed in private, away from Arielle or public view."

Her voice trailed off as she continued reading, her eyes moving faster across the page.

"So basically..." She looked up at me. Her expression shifted from disbelief to real anger, the kind that told me I was about to get ripped apart. "I'm your puppet. I smile when you want. I perform when you want. I keep my mouth shut about anything that bothers me unless we're safely behind closed doors where no one can see your perfect marriage falling apart."

"I'm asking us to choose civility over chaos, to act accordingly given our situation."

"Act accordingly." She scoffed. "What does that even mean?"

"That you must follow the ground rules I've set. This is a contract marriage after all."

I let the words hang in the air between us. Used her own phrasing from last night against her. Threw it right back in her face.

"Feelings cannot be entangled in business arrangements. Isn't that exactly what you wanted?"

"You're twisting my words around." Her hands pressed flat against the edge of the desk, hard. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you I didn't mean it like that before you believe me."

My voice rose slightly. "I'm not about to sit here and waste time debating what you meant versus what you didn't mean. You were pretty clear."

"I was upset."

"So was I. But I didn't throw our entire marriage in your face."

She opened her mouth, then closed it before looking away.

I yanked open my desk drawer, pulled out a file, the marriage contract, and slid it across the desk toward her with more force than necessary.

Her eyes went wide when she saw it. Then she scoffed. "Another rule book?"

"No." I leaned back in my chair. "This is the marriage contract."

She opened it. Her eyes scanned the heading at the top of the first page.

Marriage Contract binding Dante De Luca and Gianna De Luca.

"Right. So you've had this drawn up already."

I sat at this desk until dawn, unable to sleep. Had it drawn up last night. Called my lawyer at three in the morning, making sure every clause was ironclad.

Because she'd made me feel like a lovesick fool who'd forgotten this was all about revenge.

"Everything needs to be official." I gestured to the papers. "Read it."

She flipped through the pages as her eyes scanned every word. Then she stopped on one clause. Her finger traced the words.

Clause 7: Upon Location and Retrieval. The Party of the Second Part (Gianna De Luca) agrees to provide full cooperation in the location, identification, and transfer of custody of Lorenzo Vitale to the Party of the First Part (Dante De Luca). Said transfer includes all rights to determine final outcome.

Her voice dripped with sarcasm. "This is code for 'I'm going to hand my father over to you so you can put a bullet in my father's brain.'"

"That was precisely the agreement." I didn't flinch. "You agreed to this."

Her throat worked. She kept reading, page after page. Her expression grew harder with each line.

Finally, she looked up.

"If it's to your liking, please sign." I pushed a pen across the desk.

She didn't touch the pen. She leaned back against her seat instead.

"What does that even mean?"

"It means exactly what it sounds like." She crossed her arms tighter. "I'm not ready to have a baby."

"I'm not asking you to get pregnant right away." I tried to sound reasonable. "But soon. Eventually. It's part of marriage."

Gianna rose from her seat in anger. The movement was so sudden it made me straighten. "We never talked about it, not once. And suddenly you spring this up and expect me to just go along with it? Like I have no say in what happens to my own body?"

"Don't be dramatic, Gianna. It's what's expected of you." My voice climbed despite my efforts to control it. "You're my wife. Of course I..."

"No." She cut me off. Her hand sliced through the air between us. "You can't just expect that of me without caring to ask if that's what I want. You don't get to make that decision for me."

"You don't want to be a mother?"

"I do."

"Then I don't see the issue."

Her chin lifted, defiant. "How would you? When it's not you who has to grow a tiny being for nine months. It's not your body that changes forever. It's not your life that gets completely turned upside down. It's not your career that gets put on hold or derailed. You get to walk around like nothing happened while I'm the one carrying everything. Literally."

I knew she was right. The realization hit me harder than I expected. She would do most of the heavy lifting during pregnancy. Her body would change. Her life would change. It was only fair that she had a say in when it happened, how it happened, if it happened at all.

"What do you want, Gianna?" I asked more calmly.

She took a breath, a visible effort to calm herself, though her hands were still clenched by her side.

"I don't want to get pregnant."

"For how long?"

"For the entire duration of the marriage."