Page 16 of Claimed By the Silver Fox

There’s a mutter of agreement, but my eyes widen at the sound of his words, less than impressed by the way he’s talking right now.

Oh, so he’s just going to keep me locked up in here, where he can keep an eye on me, is that it? I might be his wife, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be his prisoner.

I push the door open and step out, tossing my hair over my shoulder, doing my best to muster all of my confidence even in the outfit I’m currently wearing.

“Julia,” Antonio greets me evenly. His tone is entirely unreadable, and as our eyes lock, my head swims slightly.

I can feel the memories dancing through my mind, the heat of our bodies pressed together, how right it felt to give myself to him, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. How he tried to resist at first, but eventually gave in to our chemistry, sensing that holding back would only end in frustration for the both of us.

“What are you doing?” I ask, gesturing to the half dozen or so men standing around right now.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he replies, and I let out a snort.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t believe you,” I tell him bluntly. “So. Come clean. What exactly are you planning here?”

He takes a step toward me, and gestures to the men standing around him. “These men are going to keep watch on your quarters at all times,” he explains. “To make sure nothing happens to you.”

I plant my hands on my hips, shrugging. “I thought this place was locked down,” I reply. “What are you worried about happening, exactly? If you know what you’re doing?”

His gaze flickers with irritation, and I can tell I’m getting to him. I tighten my jaw, not looking away. If I’m going to be stuck here, then I need to put my foot down and prove that there is still some control left, that I’m not entirely willing to just bend to his will and let him do whatever he wants.

He raises a hand, dismissing the men who are standing around him, and they rush off like they don’t want to be caught up in what happens next.

Antonio turns his gaze to me. “You need to rest. And eat. Not worry about what I’m doing here.”

“I’m sorry, but if you’re going to keep me locked up in here, I think I have a right to know about it,” I protest, gesturing to the room I just came from.

The way he’s looking at me right now, I can’t help but wonder where the man I met last night has vanished to. It’s like that version of him has just ceased to be, and the one I’ve been left with is too pissed and too controlling to allow for anything other than his way.

“I’m not keeping you locked up. I’m keeping you safe.”

“From what?” I demand, tossing my hands in the air. “Look, I get it, I do—I get that there’s a lot going on here that I don’t understand. But I’m hardly a part of it⁠—”

“You were part of it the moment you got engaged to my son,” he replies, tone cool, considered.

That only serves to frustrate me more. The way he speaks to me like I’m the one being irrational, and he’s the most sensible guy in the world, drives me crazy. Reminds me of how Andreo would be with me sometimes, when I’d try to call him out for flirting with another woman right in front of me or something, and he would lash out like I was making shit up wholesale.

“And so now I have to do anything you say.” I roll my eyes skyward. “Got it.”

“You think I want this?” Antonio demands, taking a step toward me. The sudden closing of the distance between us makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up, and I’m not sure if it’s fear or something else entirely.

“I don’t know what the hell you want,” I hiss back. “You got married to me, and then last night⁠—”

His eyes darken. “Last night shouldn’t have happened,” he tells me, his voice edged with something sharp. I can’t tell if he’s trying to convince me or himself, and I’m not sure I want to.

I glance downward, recalling the moment I looked down to see my dress pooled at my feet, the feeling it gave me to be exposed in front of him. I felt so vulnerable then, but now it’s like I want to forget all of it. Like the memory is too cruel to sustain, and I’m better off pretending it never happened.

“Well, it did,” I reply. “And if you think that gives you some kind of power over me⁠—”

“Julia, who do you think I am?”

I stare a him for a moment, confused. “What do you⁠—”

“No, I’m asking you,” he says, taking a step toward me, not breaking my gaze. It’s almost a challenge, but one I’m not sure if I’m meant to rise to or brush off.

Does he expect me to just fold under this pressure, tell him that I’m sorry for trying to make a scene and that I can see now that he’s right about all of this? I don’t know. My heart thuds in my chest, and I do my best to keep my cool, as much as I want to let it slide right now.

“Andreo’s father,” I offer, trying to remember everything his son once told me about his father. “Uh, you own the family business…”