Savio tilted his head. “Tell me one thing, Kitty, and be honest, do you want to marry Mick?” “We’re not having that discussion.” I shook my head, glaring. What did it matter? Was this some kind of game to him? “I’m promised to him, Savio. It doesn’t matter if I want to marry him or not. Once I turn eighteen, I’ll become his wife.” “It matters to me.” He leaned down, bringing us impossibly close, his eyes piercing me with their intent.
I don’t thinks ANYONE would marry a guy called “Michaelangelo”
