"What exactly are you implying?" My voice drops to a growl.
Sofia's eyes widen with false innocence. "Nothing at all. I'm simply curious about her background. She seems so… differentfrom what we expected. The way she holds herself, it's not quite finishing school, is it?"
My wife opens her mouth, maybe to defend herself, maybe to confess, but I'm already moving.
I choose the wall beside Sofia's head with precision. Close enough to make my point, controlled enough to show I choose my violence carefully. My fist connects with the marble, the crack echoing through the room. Pain explodes through my knuckles as they split against stone, blood immediately welling from torn skin.
"The next person who questions my wife won't get a warning." I let the blood drip onto the white tablecloth, each drop a promise. "She's a Rosetti now. That means she's under my protection. Anyone who forgets that will answer to me. I've dissolved men in acid for less than what you just implied."
Sofia doesn't even flinch, just sits back with a satisfied smile playing at her lips. She got exactly what she wanted: proof that I've lost control over this woman.
"Alessandro," Marco's voice cuts through the tension. "Enough."
I flex my bleeding hand, feeling the sting of split skin. My knuckles throb in time with my heartbeat, each pulse reminding me what I'll do for her. The pain grounds me, reminds me why I'm doing this. My wife sits frozen beside me, staring at the blood on my knuckles with something that isn't quite fear. Her pupils are dilated, her breath coming faster.
"My apologies," Sofia says sweetly, though her satisfied smile widens. "I didn't mean to upset anyone. I'm simply protective of our family."
"Your protection isn't needed," I growl, pulling my wife closer with my uninjured hand. "Not for her."
Luca laughs, soft and unsettling. "How fascinating. Our Alessandro, actually caring about someone besides himself. Splitting his knuckles on a wall like some lovesick fool."
"Careful, brother."
He raises his hands in mock surrender, but his pale eyes track the way my wife unconsciously leans into my touch, despite witnessing my protective violence. The whole table watches us now, measuring this unexpected display of blood spilled in her defense.
The sight of her fear makes something crack in my chest. Not because she's afraid. Fear is natural in my world. But because I want to be the exception. The one person she runs to, not from.
Faith breaks the silence, her voice gentle: "Perhaps we should continue dinner? The second course is getting cold."
But I'm done with pretenses. Done with letting them circle her like wolves testing for weakness. "We're leaving."
"Alessandro," Valentina speaks for the first time, her strategic mind always working. "Leaving now makes her look weak."
She's right, and I hate that she's right. I sit back down, pulling my wife's chair closer to mine in the process. My bloodied knuckles leave red smears on the white tablecloth as I reach for my wine glass with my injured hand, letting everyone see the damage.
"Then we stay," I announce. "But the interrogation ends now."
The rest of dinner passes in tense silence, punctuated only by the clink of silverware and stilted small talk. My hand throbs, blood still seeping slowly, but I don't tend to it. Let them see what happens when someone threatens what's mine.
My wife excuses herself to the bathroom after dessert. I watch her go, noting the slight sway in her walk, the way she grips the doorframe for support. The evening has taken its toll.
Sofia rises like a blonde viper. "I'll check on her."
Before I can stop her, she's gone. My blood turns to ice. I know what my sister does best: identifying weakness and exploiting it. Marco chooses that moment to demand my attention about a shipment issue, but my focus stays on that bathroom door.
When I can't wait a second longer, I get to my feet and follow the two women down the hallway. Their voices float around the corner.
"My brother doesn't love you," Sofia says. "He doesn't do love. But he's decided you're his, and that's actually worse. Do you understand what that means?"
I picture my wife's hands gripping marble for support, staying silent.
"Alessandro kills people who look at his possessions wrong. A man once touched his favorite watch at a party. They found pieces of him in three different states. And you? You're his most precious thing now."
"You're trying to scare me."
"I'm trying to warn you. There's a difference. When he finds out what you're hiding, and he will, his love won't save you. It will make it worse. The betrayal will drive him insane."
"I'm not hiding anything."
