“Why shouldn’t I?” She doesn’t back down. “Don’t you think you’re doing the same damn thing that he was doing? I don’t belong to you any more than I belong to him!”
Make it easier for her to wear the crown.But right now, I’m too fucking furious to do that.
“That’s where you’re wrong,piccola.” I reach down, grab her left hand, and raise it up in front of her face. “This ring tells the fucking world that you belong to me. And when you belong to me, I’ll burn this whole world down if anyone dares to come too close to you.”
I lean in until her green eyes are the only things I can see.
“Now tell me who he is.”
To her credit, she still doesn’t back down. She juts her jaw out and whispers a single syllable. “No.”
“Are you defying me, wife?”
“Yeah,” she breathes. “I guess I am.”
“Good.” My lips curl and I lean close enough that our noses are practically touching. “Because if you weren’t defying me, I’d almost feel bad about what I’m about to do.”
12
LYDIA
My heart is still poundingwhen we pull up to the boutique again and Nico steps out.
The bell over the boutique door chimes once, and Sophie immediately walks towards us with that professional smile on her face.
“Mrs. D’Ambrosio!” she greets me. “And Mr. D’Ambrosio, the dress is not ready ye–”
“Out.” Nico interrupts her with a dark glare. His voice is heavy and strained.
“I…” She never gets the word out.
“All of you.” He looks at the army of seamstresses who have all poked their heads out to look, and then at Anastasio as well. “Now.”
Sophie looks at us with surprise in her eyes, and then at Anastasio, who gives her the lightest of nods. She then casts a glance my way, before she does as she’s told. The seamstresses follow her like ducks in a row.
Nico turns to Anastasio and rests a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Lock the door. Nobody comes in. Not until I come out.”
“Boss…”
Nico tightens his grip. “That’s a fucking order.”
“Heard,” Anastasio says. “I’ll discourage the curious.”
My heart is now racing a mile a minute. Shamefully, the creeping thrill that’s been building ever since I saw Nico’s fist connect with Frank’s face starts to turn into a wet warm pulse between my legs.
The bell chimes one more time, and then it goes deathly quiet. And then it’s just us in a room full of mannequins. Somewhere in the back office, someone’s phone is playing Adele’sSkyfall. The silence between us grows heavy and suffocating.
Nico crosses to me. I make myself hold still. He takes my chin again, the way he did at the restaurant, and turns my face to the light from the window. But this time his thumb moves over the bruise slowly and his jaw goes hard.
Finally, he breaks the silence. “Did that bastard touch you anywhere else?”
It isn't a question I'm allowed to dodge. His hand leaves my face and takes my wrist—the one Frank grabbed—and turns it over, pressing along the bone with a gentleness that makes my throat close.
He checks the other, and then tips my chin one more time to look at the cheek where the bruise is forming.
"I asked you a question." His voice is quieter now. "And youwillanswer me."
"No." It comes out smaller than I want.