"Where will you sleep?" I ask when we circle back to the bedroom, trying to keep my voice neutral while my mind races. Last night he slept beside me, fully clothes, but I'm hoping he has his own room to retreat to most night.
His hand tightens almost imperceptibly on my back. "Where will I sleep?" He turns me to face him, and something dangerous flickers in his eyes. "The last person who tried to establish separate sleeping arrangements from me ended up regretting it deeply. But you're my wife, so I'll be… patient." The threat hangs between us like a blade. "You sleep in my bed, Frances."
The fake name on his lips makes me flinch internally. Every time he says it, I wait for him to call me a liar, to expose this charade.
"I thought perhaps… I need time to adjust."
"No."
One word, delivered with the kind of finality that moves mountains. Or breaks them.
"We're married, Frances." There it is again, that name that isn't mine, rolling off his tongue like he's testing it. "You sleep beside me. You wake beside me. You exist beside me. That's what wives do."
The hand on my back presses harder, pulling me against him until I can smell his cologne: hints of floral and something darker, masculine, that makes my treacherous body respond despite my terror. This close, I can see the faint scar through his left eyebrow, the way his eyes hold mine without blinking, establishing dominance with just a look.
"Please," I whisper, hating how my voice wavers. For Tommy, I remind myself. I can endure anything for Tommy.
"You have the rest of your life to adjust." His free hand comes up to cup my jaw, thumb brushing across my cheekbone with mock tenderness. "But you'll do it in my bed, cara mia."
The Italian endearment contrasts with the steel in his grip, and heat pools low in my belly against my will. When did I become someone whose body would betray her like this?
The dining room table could seat twenty, but tonight it's set for two.
Alessandro pulls out my chair with perfect manners, as if we're on a date instead of… whatever this is. The staff brings course after course: soup that smells of rosemary, salad with ingredients I can't identify, something that looks like art on aplate. My stomach clenches with hunger, but I don't touch any of it.
I picture Tommy's face and force myself to stay silent, to maintain this one small rebellion.
"You need to eat." His voice carries no concern, just observation.
"I couldn't possibly."
"Couldn't?" He takes a sip of his wine, studying me over the rim. "Or won't?"
"Does it matter?"
Something flickers in his eyes: surprise, maybe, or interest. "The cook prepared this specifically for you. She'll be disappointed."
"Then she'll have to be disappointed."
He sets down his glass deliberately. "Leave us," he says to the hovering staff.
They disappear like smoke, well-trained in the art of being invisible. Now we're alone, just us, the candlelight, and enough food to feed a small army that I refuse to touch. The silk of my clothes whispers against the leather chair as I shift, hyperaware of every sound.
"You think you're punishing me by refusing food," he observes, cutting into his own meal with precise movements. "But you're only harming yourself."
"It's my choice to make."
"Is it?" He takes another bite, savoring it slowly. "How long can you last, do you think? Another hour? Two? Eventually, your body will override your pride."
He's right, and we both know it. My stomach is already cramping, empty since yesterday's wedding breakfast that I barely touched. But I lift my chin and meet his gaze steadily, thinking of Tommy in his cell, of Mrs.Hewson's threats, of how much I have to lose if I don't play this part perfectly.
"Longer than you think."
His smile is slow and dangerous. "We'll see."
An hour passes. He conducts business calls in Italian, his voice flowing through words I don't understand while his eyes never leave me. The language sounds like music and menace combined, reminders of shipments and territory disputes floating through my comprehension.
Another hour. He has dessert brought: something elaborate with chocolate and gold leaf. The smell makes my stomach clench painfully.
