From dominance to detachment.
As if everything he had just said—every warning, every promise of pain—meant nothing more than routine business.
He turned toward the heavy door that led away from the balcony, his broad back rigid beneath the black dress shirt, every line of his body controlled.
As his hand closed around the doorknob, something in me snapped—fear, defiance, desperation, all colliding at once.
“Erm... I don’t know what this new life holds for me, but I hate being idle... I hate being a housewife.”
I blurted out before I could second-guess myself.
My voice came out steadier than I felt, but my pulse betrayed me, hammering against my ribs.
“Is there any work I can take on? Anything around here that will keep me busy... sane?”
I held my breath, wondering if he would ignore me—or simply walk out.
For a moment, he didn’t move.
The pause stretched, thick with something unreadable.
Then—
Vincenzo stilled, his hand still resting on the knob, though he didn’t turn fully to face me.
Only his head shifted slightly, just enough for me to catch the sharp angle of his jaw in the dim light.
“You can’t work in my companies. It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you dead... not yet.” he said, his voice measured.
“But there is work in the family,” he added, letting the words hang in the air.
“Speak to Renzo,” he continued, his tone flattening. “He will run you through the basics.”
Renzo?
The same short man I had pummeled into near unconsciousness just minutes before I even walked up to the altar?
With that, he twisted the knob and pulled the door open.
He didn’t look back.
He simply stepped out.
And the soft click of the latch behind him echoed through the room like a final verdict.
Silence followed.
I stood there for a moment, unmoving, staring at the closed door as if it might open again, as if he might walk back in and undo everything he had just said.
He didn’t.
A long, shaky breath slipped out of me, my shoulders finally sagging as the full weight of the day came crashing down.
Married.
The word felt foreign.
Unreal.
