Page 27 of His Bride

“Well, I spent it giving orders, checking inventory and trying to get my mind off you,” The last bit slips out before I can stop myself.

Adriana’s eyes widen in surprise. “What…what about me?”

“How much I want to fuck you.”

She gasps in shock.

“You-I” she stammers and ducks her head.

I reach out, tilting her chin up. “Don’t hide from me, cara. I want to see you.”

She bites her lip nervously and for a moment, I think she might pull away. Instead, she holds my gaze, despite the wariness in her eyes.

The air between us crackles with tension.

“Don’t worry cara. I won’t fuck you right now, nor here on this table. At least not today,” I tell her and smile when her face gets redder, probably imagining what I said.

I release her, picking up my fork again. “Tell me about this book you read.”

Adriana clears her throat and begins speaking again. I listen intently, filing away every detail. Knowledge is power, after all. And the more I know about my wife, the easier it’ll be to claim her completely. Mind, body and soul.

Chapter Ten

Adriana

I stand frozen in the doorway of Dante’s study, my heart pounding. I knock on the door.

“Enter,” Dante’s deep voice commands from within.

I push open the heavy door, the hinges creaking ominously. Dante sits behind his massive desk, his laptop opened before him. His eyes flick up to look at me.

“What is it, cara mia?” He asks, his tone slightly softening.

I swallow hard. “I was hoping… I’d like to have lunch with my mother and Valentina today.”

Dante leans back in his chair, looking at me intently. Silence stretches between us, taut as a wire. I hold my breath.

“Very well,” he finally says. “But you’ll take Enzo with you.”

Relief washes over me, quickly followed by a pang of frustration. “Is that really necessary?” I ask, trying to keep the irritation from my voice.

Dante’s eyes narrow. “It’s non-negotiable, Adriana. Your safety is paramount.”

I nod, knowing better than to argue further.

“Thank you,” I reply.

Dante picks up his phone, his fingers flying over the keys. Within moments, a sharp knock at the door announces Enzo’s arrival.

The burly man enters, his presence filling the room. “You called for me, boss?”

“Escort my wife to lunch with her mother. Keep her safe,” Dante orders.

Enzo nods curtly. “Of course.”

“Ready when you are, Mrs. Rossi,” Enzo says, his voice gruff but not unkind.

As we leave Dante’s study, I can feel his gaze burning into my back. The weight of his scrutiny lingers even as we make our way down the staircase.

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