Page 14 of Beneath the Thorned Crown

The warning doesn’t faze him. It never does. Hugo grins, spreading his arms like he owns the place. “I’m just enjoying myself, Castellano. No need to take everything so personally.”

I throw my cards down, the sound slicing through the low murmur of conversation. “I’m done for the night.”

Hugo arches a brow, his smirk widening. “Calling it quits already? That’s not like you.”

I push my chair back and stand, my movements steady and controlled. “I have other matters to attend to.”

I don’t wait for his response. My steps are steady as I leave the room, but inside, I’m seething. Hugo’s low chuckle follows me out, and I know he thinks he’s won this round. The bastard always knows how to get under my skin.

The halls of the estate are quiet, my footsteps echoing off the wooden floors. I tell myself to keep walking and ask Charles to keep Hugo company for the rest of the night, but the thought of Hugo lingering near Isabella, his smooth voice filling the space between them, gnaws at me. A harsh tightness grips my muscles at the mere possibility of her enduring his attention. I can't bear the idea of him talking to her, of her feeling cornered by someone like him. Frustration boils over, and before I realize it, I’m already turning back. I need to be there. I can’t leave her alone with him.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

Her tone is tight, unsteady, and it freezes me mid-step. The blood in my veins turns cold, then hot, then cold again as I move, faster now, toward the doors.

I push them open, and the sight inside ignites a fury so sharp it takes everything in me to keep from tearing Hugo apart on the spot.

He’s too close to her, his tall frame looming as he braces one hand against the back of the chair where she’s sitting. Isabella is pressed back, her body tense, her hands gripping the wine like it’s the only thing keeping her steady. I notice her dress riding up, exposing her thighs to Hugo’s lecherous eyes.

“Come now, sweetheart,” Hugo drawls, his voice oily. “Don’t be shy. A little conversation never hurt anyone.”

“I said no,” Isabella snaps, but I can hear the strain beneath her defiance.

“Get away from her.”

The growl tears from my throat, loud enough to cut through the tension in the room. Both of them turn toward me, and I see it—the relief in Isabella’s teary eyes, the smirk on Hugo’s face.

Hugo straightens slowly, his hand falling away from the couch. “Relax, Castellano,” he says, his tone light and infuriatingly calm. “We were just talking.”

My gaze flicks to Isabella. Her pale face, the way her shoulders are drawn tight… it’s enough to send the anger in me spiraling out of control. I don’t think—I act.

In three strides, I’m across the room. My hands grab the front of Hugo’s jacket, and I shove him back, pinninghim against the wall. His whiskey glass slips from his hand, shattering at our feet. My forearm presses into his chest, hard enough to make him shift uncomfortably.

“I told you to stay away from her,” I snarl, my voice low and sharp. The calm mask I had been wearing is now gone, stripped away by the raw fury coursing through me.

Hugo doesn’t back away. He meets my gaze, that damn smirk still plastered on his face. “Touchy, touchy. You act like she’s yours.”

“She is mine. And she’s off-limits.” I state, the wall creaking behind him.

Hugo’s eyes gleam with sharp and satisfactory understanding, his grin widening. “Oh, I understand perfectly.”

Then he leans closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Careful, Castellano. You’re showing your hand.”

I hesitate, just for a second, and Hugo’s soft chuckle grates on every nerve I have left.

“So this is your weakness, huh?” he says, his voice dripping with mockery. “The mighty Dominic Castellano, getting all bent out of shape over a woman. Interesting.”

“Watch your mouth,” I growl, though I know I’ve already given too much away. Hugo isn’t stupid, and I’ve handed him exactly the kind of leverage he thrives on.

He shrugs under my hold, feigning indifference. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. For now.”

The urge to hit him burns in my chest, but I shove him away instead, my fists trembling as I force myself to step back.

"Hugo straightens his jacket, his smirk firmly in place. “You should check on your little guest,” he says lightly, his voice dripping with mock concern as he glances toward Isabella, “She seems… flustered.”

I don’t answer. I don’t trust myself to.

When he finally leaves, closing the door behind him, I turn to Isabella. She’s still in her chair, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The sight of her, so small and shaken, calms the anger brewing in my chest shift.

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