“It hurts terribly.” My voice comes out flat, and I lift my chin, daring him to call me out.
His gaze brushes over my face before it moves to my shoulder. “You’re lying.”
The words slip from him with certainty, and it prickles under my skin. Dominic hasn’t spent a single night here after the night I got shot. He barely comes around, and the few times he does, it’s just to ask about the wound.
It should bother me, the fact that he’s only throwing scraps of care my way, but my stupid heart aches for it. It’s pathetic, and I blame it on some unhealed part of my childhood, rearing its ugly head, and making me enjoy his attention, even when it’s the bare minimum.
Pushing back against the pillows, I fold my arms. “Why bother asking if you already know the answer?”
He doesn’t respond.
I roll my eyes. “Well, since you’re asking, I’m miserable. Sharon hovers over me like I’m some china doll, and I’m not allowed to leave this cage you call a bedroom. Does that answer satisfy you, husband?”
Something flashes in his eyes, but his tone stays even. “You’ve been restless.”
“No, shit! I hadn’t noticed,” I shoot back. “Do you actually care about how I am?” The question slips out before I can stop it...and for a heartbeat I’m terrified of what he might say. What if he doesn’t care? What if he looks at me with that flat expression...the one that gives nothing away, and I’m left with the answer I’ve been dreading all along?
So I push myself upright, ignoring the sting in my shoulder, and change direction. “The men that attacked… have you found them?”
His gaze hardens. “Don’t worry about that.”
Fury surges hot in my chest, and I swing my legs over the bed, biting back a wince from my movement. “Don’t tell me not to worry. I got shot, Dominic. I deserve to know what’s being done!”
“It’s being handled,” he deadpans, but I can see the restraint in his eyes as he steps closer to me.
That’s all he says, and it makes me feel small and powerless…like my life is just another problem being tossed on his table.
“So what am I supposed to do? Stay here like a trapped bird? Pretend nothing happened while you keep me in the dark?”
His jaw flexes. “Exactly. Stay here and heal. That’s your job.”
“My job?” A laugh bursts out of me, sharp and humorless. “My job was to take a bullet, apparently, while you swoop in afterward with your half-answers.”
“Don’t,” he growls, the vein in his neck bulging.
“Don’t what? What else am I supposed to think when my own husband won’t tell me what’s happening? You vanish for days, and when you show up, it’s just to check my wound like I’m one of your fucking assets that needs maintenance.”
He takes another step closer, his presence swallowing the space. “No, you’re my fucking wife and I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“Well fuck you and your safety,” I hiss.
His nostrils flare, hands dragging through his hair thickly. “Watch your damn mouth.”
Somehow, we’re in each other’s space, breathing the same air. I’m about to snap again when I feel his fingers on my chin, tilting my face up to his.
“In case you didn’t catch it last time, I’ll repeat myself. You belong to me, Bella,” he says, softer this time. “And nobody hurts what’s mine and walks away freely.”
It feels more like a promise than a mere statement, but just like I said... He offers mescrapsof attention my body can’t refuse. My gaze trails over him, noticing the dark hollows in his eyes andhow stiff his shoulders are. He looks like he hasn’t slept properly in days. And it’s obvious he’s been carrying more than he lets me see. Maybe he’s been trying all along, just…not in the way I want.
What do I even want?
His thumb grazes along my jaw, gentle in a dangerous way, because my chest tightens at the contact. My gaze drops to his mouth, and I instinctively lick my lips, desperate to do something with the heat pooling in my stomach.
I notice a crease forming between his eyebrows. “Don’t do that.” It lands as a reprimand and a plea.
Blinking up at him, feigning innocence even as my pulse kicks, I ask, “Do what?”
His eyes narrow, dropping to my mouth before climbing back up again. “You know what,” he grinds out, every word vibrating with restraint. “You should get some rest.” He attempts to pull away, but my hand reflexively closes around his wrist.
