My cock stirs, but my nostrils flare. There’s a thin line between bravery and folly, and she’s treading it. I slam my fist against the table, watching how she flinches before she can mask it.
“You’ll smile when you’re told…” I lean in, my irritation burning into anger. “…Sit when you’re told and fucking talk when you’re told.”
Her head jerks at the venom in my voice, but her gaze doesn’t drop from mine. The silence that stretches next for a split second is satisfactory until she speaks.
“Hate to break it to you. But I don’t attend parties,” she says in a challenging tone that makes me want to kiss that stubborn pout off her lips.
My jaw twitches, and I sink back into the leather of my chair, watching the heavy rise and fall of her cleavage.
“The only reason you’re here is that business requires it.” I slide my gaze to her eyes. “So I do not give a damn about your preferences.”
She lets out a bitter laugh. “Husband of the year.”
I ignore the jab. Perhaps I should tell her that securing my next big legal contract depends on how well she plays her role. But instead, I say, “You will do exactly as I say.”
Apparently, it’s her turn to lean in. “I’m not your puppet,” she retorts.
“Oh, no…you’re worse,” I growl, my voice reducing to a cold whisper. “You’re mine in every possible way. Mine to command, mine to punish, and mine to ruin until the world forgets you ever belonged to the Rossis.”
There’s a pause.
“And if I don’t want to be yours?” she responds, throwing me a defiant glare. But there’s a slight tremble in her voice. It pulls something dangerous from me.
“I’ll take every ounce of that fire you flaunt, burn it into submission, and break you in ways you’ll beg me to repeat, until the only name you remember is mine.”
She bites her lips, her jaw locking tight, but the faintest hitch betrays her resolve. Somehow, I’m hyper aware of how her breathing shallows. Of the goosebumps that lace her skin. Ofhow a trail of sweat snakes down the valley of her breasts through her low-cut singlet.
Pulling back my cigar from the ashtray, I find the lighter, light it again, and take a long, slow drag. “You’ll learn the difference between serving me and surviving me, Bella. I’m not a man who enjoys repeating himself.”
I dismiss her, and she leaves.
After a few more puffs, I take my car key and head for the club office.
***
A few hours later, Dean enters alongside an average-height man with greying hair and tan skin, whom I know to be his second-in-command, Enzo.
Dean’s suit is tailored as he walks toward my desk like a long-term business partner, not someone coming to atone for his sins. Somehow that irks me.
“Dominic, I—”
“It’s Mr. Moretti to you.” I sit up in my chair, sliding the paperwork on the table to one side.
He pauses mid-step and smiles awkwardly. “Apologies, Mr. Moretti.”
His eyes dart to the chair across my desk but he doesn’t sit until I gesture for him to. His second-in-command stands at the corner of the room after acknowledging me with a deep nod.
“About the switch with the girls, I wanted to explain.”
I nod and he takes the cue to continue.
“Elena is gone.” He shakes his head, something raw shifting in his eyes. “She ran away very early on the wedding day, leaving behind a letter.” He fiddles in his pocket, bringing out a folded paper and dropping it on the table, but I don’t take it. “Here it is. She says something about not being ready for marriage yet and wanting to find herself.”
Of course. Young adults and thinking they can escape responsibility.
“When I realized she’d fled, I had two options. Call off the wedding…humiliate both families. Or simply replace her. I went for the latter. So that’s why, in her stead, I gave you her sister, Bella.”
I can hear the slight change in his tone as he speaks about Bella. I arch a brow.
