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“You can’t just tell me what to do,” I mutter so he can’t hear me.
“I’m sorry, say that again. I couldn’t quite hear you,Donnina.”
“Disrespectfully, Gio, I will talk to whoever the fuck I want.”
His glare sends me many warnings that I don’t care to hear anymore. I am tired of whatever this is. He inches closer to me, pulling down the cloth at my neck.
“Just making sure it’s still there.” He winks at me.
My face falls flat, and I close my eyes.
My body wants him. Every touch from him makes every square inch of my skin feel like it’s burning.
“What does it mean?” I ask calmly as his thumb glides over the tender spot.
“It means where is the phone?”
My eyes swing open, staring at the man who shows no emotion unless he wants something. The shirt of his collar falls, revealing the words I put on him. I am starting to think I don’t regret going last night.
I might have a spade on me, but his tattoo belittles him.
His mouth falls open as he takes a knife out of his pocket, cutting the dress.
“Stop.” I try to remain calm, looking around me to make sure no one is watching.
I hold the dress up and walk out of the room with no eyes on me, surprisingly, and make it upstairs to my bedroom, searching high and low for something else to wear.
I don’t know why he thinks he can just act like that in front of my family. It’s disrespectful toward them, and me.
I take the dress off. I have so many clothes, and I can’t seem to find one outfit to wear in this moment.
The door slams shut as Giovanni walks in.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I shout as I try to cover as much of myself as I can with my small hands.
He looks me up and down with a smile. I walk into my closet and throw on a long-sleeve black dress that falls mid-thigh. I didn’t want to wear this one because it’s one of my favorites, and none of my things are safe from the man who stands so calmly in my bedroom.
I walk over to my nightstand, taking out all the phones and throwing each one at him with force.
“Get the fuck out,” I say.
He picks the phones up off the floor. “It means I will protect you.”
“What?”
“It means everything you wear from now on will show what is on your neck.”
“Giovanni, that doesn’t make any sense. I can’t let people see this.”
“A symbol of death, of war,” he says, switching phones.
“So you tattooed death on me?” I laugh because I can’t help it. I thought it was his way of claiming me in his own sick way.
“I did.” He chuckles, stepping toward me, brushing my hair out of my face. “It means that if any man looks at you and sees this, they will deal with me.”
“So that no man will ever take me as a wife? Gio, I can protect myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t,Donnina. But I will protect you because you are mine.”
