“You think that gives you permission to wander around my house unsupervised?”
Caligula shrugs, the gesture making the robe slip off one shoulder. “You were asleep. Rosa and I didn’t want to wake you. We decided you needed rest.”
We.
The casual suggestion that he and Rosa are a “we,” that my household operates by committee, that decisions get made without my authority…
All of it makes me angrier.
“You decided, did you?” Even wearing my robe, wearing my marks, he carries himself like he’s doing me a favor by existing in my space. It makes me want to remind him again how far he’s fallen. “You stay where I put you unless I say otherwise.”
Caligula flings out his arms, letting the robe gape open without shame. “What was I supposed to do? Stay there quiet and awake, staring at the ceiling, while you snored and bled?”
“Someone wants you dead,” I snap. “Any time you leave my side, you’re in danger. Do you really need reminding?”
“Oh, I don’t need reminding that I’m stuck with the Bad Mood Bear for a year. Don’t you worry about that.”
Snarky little shit. He’s got such a mouth on him. And before I can speak again, he tilts his head and narrows his eyes.
“Who’s Sammy?”
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Imethim. In the kitchen.” Caligula’s voice seems neutral, but there’s something underneath—I can’t read it. “He wasn’t very friendly. Seemed to think I was one of your disposable booty calls.”
“Sammy should watch his fucking tongue.”
“In case you cut it out? That was mean, by the way, what you said to Rosa. She worships you. You don’t need to threaten her to keep her in line.”
“You don’t talk to my people without permission,” I snarl.
The Clemenza’s grin is pure provocation. “But Rosa likes me. I can tell.”
That’s it.
I grab him by the arms, fingers digging into my own robe as I yank him forward until our faces are inches apart. He makes me feel like an animal, like all I am is claws and hunger, ready to rip him apart.
“You will obey me,” I tell him, low and dangerous, “or you will be punished.”
He doesn’t try to pull away. His lashes drop and his voice goes soft, teasing—deliberately pushing me. “Are you going to spank me again, Dami?”
My grip tightens involuntarily. The little viper is getting off on this. On pushing my buttons. On making me want to throw him down and…
“My property has forgotten its place.” My fingers dig in even harder, hard enough to make him wince. “I went too easy onyou last night, letting you sleep in my bed. Now the little prince thinks he can run my house.”
His smile falters. Understanding flickers in those amber eyes. “Wait?—”
“No.” I squeeze tighter, making him wince. “A few days in chains is what you need.”
“Damiano—please,” he says quickly, and now I hear real panic threading through his voice. “Pleasedon’t put me back down there. I was just trying to help?—”
“Too late.” I shove him toward the elevator doors. “Maybe next time you’ll think before you speak.”
Inside, the elevator is mirrored on all sides, trapping us with infinite reflections of this moment—him in my robe, me gripping his arm, both of us breathing hard. He stands rigid in front of me, chest rising and falling rapidly, honey eyes wide and worried. I don’t look at him directly, at his pleading expression.
If I do, I might stop.
The elevator stops and the doors open. I drag him to the far wall where another chain and collar hangs from an iron ring embedded in the reinforced concrete. He doesn’t get the bed this time. Hedeservesthe wall. Cruder. Colder. More degrading.
