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“None of that is true! You are using it to start an argument because you’d rather be a child than a grown woman mature enough to let it go!”
She hacks out a bold laugh. “I’m sorry, Giovanni? Is it inconvenient I’m calling you out for being MIA? For Sofia telling the world about your night together? I’m sorry I’m not a cool Mafia wife—I’m sorry I actually care about where my husband is, and who he sticks his dick in!”
I stride toward her, my temper seconds away from snapping. I grip her arm tightly in my hold and walk her toward the bed. She’s drunk. The wine’s tart berry fragrance is all over her, like a strong and unpleasant perfume.
“Get in bed,” I growl. “You need to sleep off what you’ve drunk. I’m not fucking doing this with you, Falynn.”
“The bed you won’t come home to?” she asks, a breathlessness to her now. When I let go of her, she stumbles a couple steps off balance, but catches herself before it’s too late. A bitter smile twists onto her face as she glares at me. “Do you know how many men would love to have me in their bed? Would make sure to come home to me at night? Even your own men! And yet you won’t!”
Something primal and dark wakens inside my chest as I glare at her and back her up further against the side of the bed. “It doesn’t matter what men would give their left nut to be in the same bed as you—you’re only to be in my bed, Falynn! You’re only to be touched by me when I say so! Is that clear?”
Falynn’s a gorgeous woman. Anyone with eyes can see it. I’m not so stupid to think other men—including the men under my command—haven’t noticed. She’s sexy as fuck, and always has been. But most men’s respect for me (and fearofme) has always been the clear delineator in the sand.
If Falynn’s noticing, then that means my men aren’t scared of me enough. That means they don’t know I’ll slaughter each and every one of them for breathing in her direction too hard.
“You have no clue how lucky you are,” she says, tears emerging. She plops down on the bed and lets the tears fall freely. “How hard I’ve tried just to be what you want me to be. Why aren’t I good enough? Why won’t you stay?”
I should feel sorry for her. Here’s my wife, the woman I love more than I have ever loved a person in this life, breaking down before my eyes. She’s tipsy and heartbroken and probably exhausted from the trials and treatments she’s gone through.
Yet all I can think of is how she’s disobeyed me. The rules she’s broken. The lines she’s crossed. The deceit she thinks she can pull off without me knowing.
She took off my fucking ring.
I harden staring at her, as cold and callous as if I am dealing with anybody in a business situation. Nobody ever said marriage wasn’t like a business contract. An agreement between two parties to uphold the predefined conditions.
Falynn’s tested my patience. She’s gotten away with more than I’d ever let anyone else get away with.
She deserves no mercy. No lenience in a situation like this. She’s already had enough.
I grip her by the chin and tilt her head back so she must stare up at me. “Listen to me carefully, Falynn. You are my wife, and you will obey my rules. You will not question me, or defy me in any manner. You will do as you’re told every fucking day of your life so long as you live. If you refuse to listen, I willmakeyou listen. Do not make me make you listen, Falynn. Do not force me to become the type of man I don’t want to be with you.
“Get in the bed and go to sleep. When you wake up, Carlotta will help you clean yourself up. You will have dinner at six o’ clock. You will eat every crumb on your plate. You will spend the rest of the evening relaxing and taking it easy, as Doctor Romano has said is important. You will go to bed regardless of where I am. You will have an ounce of fucking common sense and accept this is how things are. Am I going to have to make you do these things, or will you obey?” I growl.
Her brown eyes darken, the tears still shining in them. Her chin quivers in my grip as she whispers, “Yes, Giovanni. I’ll obey.”
