The robe clung to her like it was made for this moment: a second skin wrapped in silk and rebellion.
“You can yell,” I said, calm as ever, “or you can sit down and eat.”
I didn’t need to raise my voice. Didn’t need to demand. My presence did the work for me.
She glared like I’d insulted her soul.
Good.
She should be angry. She should feel like she had to fight for every inch of ground.
It would only make it that much more satisfying when she gave it up.
“Just because you’ve locked me into this ridiculous marriage,” she snapped, “doesn’t mean you get to dictate everything.”
I took another sip of coffee.
Let the steam rise between us like smoke.
Raised an eyebrow.
Said nothing.
The silence hit harder than words.
Because she knew it too.
She was already in a game of control, and I wasn’t the one flinching.
The tension pulsed between us—thick, electric, waiting.
“Let’s see how far you’ll go today,” she said.
Oh, little wife.
She had no idea how far I planned to go.
Chapter 13
Persephone
He didn’t say a word about the broken plate.
No sharp comment. No demand. Not even that smug little smile I hated so much.
Just a look. Bare chest, eyes cool like none of this mattered.
“Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone. I have practice."
The door creaked open.
He didn’t glance back.
Didn’t wait for a reply.
Just walked out like he owned the air I breathed.
And the second the door shut behind him, the house went still.
