"No what?"
"No, I don't need a reminder."
"Good." But he doesn't move.
Instead, his other hand slides down my side, possessive and rough. "Because if you ever prioritize anything over your obligations to me. You know exactly what you’re losing."
The threat hangs between us.
"We clear?" he asks.
"Crystal," I bite out.
"Good." He's gone before I can say anything else.
And I'm left standing against the wall, still shaking, still flushed, trying to process what just happened.
He touched me. Pinned me. Threatened me. Made me want him despite every logical reason not to. And now I have to get dressed up and play the perfect girlfriend at a party full of people who could destroy me with a word.
A woman appears in the doorway—mid-thirties, carrying a massive makeup case. "Miss Mancini? I'm Sophia. We should get started. We're running behind."
No kidding.
I follow her upstairs, my body still humming with adrenaline and unwanted arousal.
In the bedroom, the dress is laid out on the bed. The green one Dante chose. Elegant but sexy, too sexy.
The kind of dress that screams ‘Look at me. Look at what he owns’.
I stare at it for a long moment.
Then I go to the closet and pull out something else entirely.
A dress Maria bought me last week when I complained about having nothing appropriate for "events." Navy blue, elegant, fitted but not obscene. Beautiful but modest.
The kind of dress I'd choose for myself.
Dante said to wear what he picked.
But Dante isn't here. And is making me go without him.
And I'm tired of being told what to wear, where to be, how to act.
If he wants obedience, he can earn it.
Not demand it.
Sophia does my hair—soft waves, elegant but not overdone. Makeup that enhances instead of transforms. By the time she's finished, I look like an elevated version of myself.
Not Dante's creation. Just... me.
At 6:20, Marco and Sal appear at my door.
"Ready, Miss Mancini?" Marco asks.
"Ready as I'll ever be."
In the car, I try not to think about what Dante's face will look like when he sees me.
