“We’re going to jail!” she teases. “You think their cafeteria has vegan options?”
I force a smile at her good-natured ribbing, but inside I have a bad feeling.
A few moments later, the officer returns with my paperwork.
“Your husband is waiting for you at home, little lady. Go on.”
Little lady?Ugh. Despite my irritation, I keep my face neutral. “You’re…not going to give me a ticket?”
He smiles, but that somehow makes it all worse. “Drop your sister off and get home. Now.”
I’m completely baffled at how this cop knows Livvie is my sister, and that Dante wants me home, but I just nod and thank him. Jesus, my husband has everyone in his back pocket. And it seems he can track me down, no matter what I’m doing.
I drive off, cracking a joke to my sister about how good it is to have a well-connected husband. But meanwhile, my knuckles are white on the steering wheel.
* * *
The wind is howlinglike mad by the time I get back to the Bellanti estate and park behind the massive house, quickly raising the convertible top. Thank goodness a push button makes quick work of securing the roof, because the first fat drops of rain begin to fall just as I step out of the vehicle. A crack of thunder booms in my ears as I turn to race for the door.
And run smack into my husband.
His hand goes around my upper arm like a vice grip and he levels me with an expression I have no trouble reading. Rage. It matches the ominous atmosphere so well he could be elemental himself—dark eyes flashing, angry energy swirling around him like the wind.
I liked it better when he had his poker face on. At least then I didn’t know I was in for it.
“Pick up the fucking phone when I call you.”
My eyes narrow, but inside I shiver, hard and deep. The fear crawls across my skin, instinctual, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. I’ve been pretty defiant all day about making him pay for insulting me, though that defiance was laced with a trepidation that I pushed aside. Now all those nerves come to the surface, and I’m wary of what Dante is going to do next.
Being his wife, I’d assumed he wouldn’t get physical with me—but maybe I was wrong. Still, I won’t let him see that I’m afraid. Considering the kind of man he is, it might just spur him to violence. So I lift my chin and glare right back, even though we’re getting pelted by rain.
“My father may have sold me off to you, but you don’t own every minute of my time. Besides, my phone had an unfortunate accident on the freeway. I’m going to need a new one.”
When I smirk, his eyes narrow, his grip tightening on my arm. It should be painful. It is painful. But it’s arousing me, and I hate it. I don’t want to feel turned on bythis.
“Don’t act like a stupid bitch, Francesca.”
“Then stop being such a controlling asshole,Dante.”
He shoves me back against the car hard enough that the thud can be heard over the harsh wind. “You have no fucking clue who I am, do you?” he growls.
“Oh, here we go with your ego.”
We’re going to get soaked, and my new linen skirt suit will be ruined. How much longer is he going to keep me out here? I’m about to lay into the arrogant prick properly when he leans low over me, pinning me back against the hood, cutting me off before I can open my mouth.
He grips my chin, forcing me to look at him.
“I’m the first son of Enzo Bellanti. I dine with criminals and senators at the same table. I drink with mobsters and the occasional prince. I know dangerous people and I’ve made dangerous enemies. Enemies who would love nothing more than to cut my pretty new wife’s throat from ear to ear, just to take her from me.”
His hand trails beneath my chin to the center of my throat, where he lightly traces his thumb across.
“Is that supposed to be a threat from you, or from them?” It was supposed to sound sarcastic, but my voice comes out too softly.
The rain starts pouring down in earnest now, more thunder rumbling ominously in the distance, but Dante doesn’t take his eyes from me. His hand is still wrapped around my throat, leaving my neck tingling. As I look up at him he consumes me with his heat and his dominance, as if ingraining into me that he very much controls every inch of me.
“Don’t worry,” he says, blocking the rain from my face. “They can’t touch what’s mine.”
My lips part in shock at his possessiveness, my body tensing, the anticipation growing.
