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Since I’d been here, I hadn’t socialized. Unless it was with him, Vincentius and Sofia, and his army of mobsters who gathered to watch Lorenzo get his hand chopped off. But they hadn’t exactly been social. I hadn’t had an opportunity to see him jealous.
I ached to coax more out of him. To see him truly possessive.
“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” I answered sweetly.
He was across the room in a handful of seconds, gripping my wrist and twirling me around to face him. He was clutching me to the point of pain, and he knew that. Cristian was well educated on my body, on my limits for both pleasure and pain.
“I think you forget yourself, Sienna,” he seethed, no longer aloof, emotionless. “You are my business because you are mine.” He yanked my wrist so it was between us, so our bodies were pressed together. “You do not get to meet with people without me knowing. You want to taunt me? Fine. You better be ready for the consequences.”
He gripped my wrist even harder, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of a whimper of pain.
Silence hung between us, thick and overwhelming. His eyes trapped my attention. My fucking soul. My wrist burned, and my breathing shallowed.
“Are you ready for the consequences, or are you going to tell me who you’re seeing?” he asked softly.
My heart thundered in my ears, and arousal surged through me. My panties were drenched. I ached to fight further. To see where he’d take this. I was sure I’d seen everything he had to give, had reached the limits of his fury and cruelty when I put on that dress. Yet it seemed Cristian was endless.
But I was already late. And I didn’t doubt that Jessica would be dramatic and turn up to the apartment if I was fifteen minutes late for dinner. I also did not want to give in to Cristian. To give him that victory. Not when it had settled in just how much I’d already surrendered to him.
“I’m going to dinner with my friend, Jessica,” I hissed, furious. “To tell her I’m engaged. To a man who is threatening to kill her and her son if I don’t.”
The corner of Cristian’s mouth turned up in satisfaction. He squeezed my wrist a little tighter before he loosened his grip. But he did not let go of me.
“You’re going to eat at Bella,” he instructed.
I scowled at him. “I certainly am not,” I shot back. “We’ve made reservations at our favorite restaurant in the village.”
Cristian increased his pressure. “That was not a question. Either you eat at Bella or you stay in this house.”
I blew out an enraged breath. “Are you going to make me?”
Cristian’s eyes darkened. “Yes,” he replied simply. “I will. And we both know I can.”
I gritted my teeth, my blood turning hot, fury burning my stomach as the truth settled between us.
My lips were pressed together, knowing winning an argument against him was impossible. I wouldn’t give him any further satisfaction.
“Is your bartender friend going to be there too?” he asked quietly.
This time I did hear the jealousy. It was my turn to smile.
“No. But you never know … we might head there after dinner for a drink. A catch up. I haven’t seen him in a while, and we’re very close, you know.” I made sure to lower my voice, my lower lip slipping between my teeth.
Cristian didn’t like that. He was glowering now. “What you’re going to learn, Sienna, is that being my wife gives you a lot of power. But it also makes it very dangerous to be close to you. Especially if you happen to have a dick. One that I will cut off in front of you if I even think he lays a hand on you.”
My blood sizzled. I glared at him in the face of a threat that wasn’t empty. Not in the slightest.
“I fucking hate you,” I seethed.
Cristian yanked me in closer so our mouths crashed together. I didn’t want to kiss him back. I should’ve struggled. But I did kiss him back. And I didn’t struggle.
“The problem is, farfallina,” he murmured, mouth against mine. “Is that you don’t.”
Finally, he let me go, after he’d proven how utterly powerless I was against him.
He walked out of the bedroom without a backward glance.
I made it to the restaurant with ten minutes to spare. Because I was so pissed that I sped all the way into the city. No one pulled me over. I wondered if highway patrol had the license plate of this particular vehicle, knew who it belonged to, and knew not to mess with anyone driving it. That knowledge should’ve sickened me. But once again, I liked it. Liked having that power. That status. I fucking liked that people would be afraid of me purely because I was going to marry the Don.
