Page 37 of His to Claim

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CARLOTTA

Istart to march to the front door, but Damon grabs my arm, spinning me around to face him.

“Your brothers put your care in my hands and I won’t jeopardize that for a few more fucks.”

Maybe he’s right but, wow, that really stung. For as much as we’ve gotten to know each other this past week, that sentence makes me wonder if we’re even remotely on the same page. Or planet. Despite our agreeing that what happens up north stays up north, my foolish heart was hoping for a different outcome.

“Carlotta, wait,” he says. “I need you to understand your safety is of the utmost concern to myself and your family. Gallo is still out there and you need to be taken somewhere safe.”

“I understand that, but I’m not the only one he wants. He said he’s going to destroy the entire Rossi family—that includes me, my brothers, their wives and children, right? Yet why am I the only one getting put on a plane and sent over to Sicily?”

“Your brothers can protect their wives and kids. You don’t have that.”

His reminder is like nails down a chalkboard. He’s basically telling me he won’t be with me once we return to the city, and even though I know that, suddenly I’m livid. At him, at my brothers, at Gallo and the situation.

“Let’s go then,” I hiss, spinning back around. I’m spitting angry and I know it isn’t fair. Everyone is just trying to protect me, but I can’t help it. This whole thing just further emphasizes that I’m alone, vulnerable and it’s time to run back to my parents because I don’t have a husband or boyfriend to protect me. Because clearly this family thinks the women all need to be guarded by a man or else they’re helpless. Easing pickings.Grr.

Gritting back my frustration, I mentally duel with the double-edged sword of my femininity while Damon gathers his stuff and shoves it into his duffel bag, preparing for our departure. Since I don’t have anything, except for my dress, I just sit there and stew in my anger.

Being a woman in the Rossi family isn’t an easy thing, especially when I have four overprotective brothers breathing down my neck all the time. I appreciate their concern but, at the same time, they need to understand I can be trusted to make my own decisions. Because I think that’s what is upsetting me the most—I am getting zero say in what is happening.

And that’s frustrating beyond anything else.

Once Damon is ready, we step outside and he locks up. I can’t pretend I’m not going to miss this little cabin and the time we spent here. It was truly magical. But cold, hard reality just clunked me upside the head and now it’s time to say goodbye to everything that has made me so happy this past week.

And, unfortunately for me, I’m not ready to do that.

I get in the Challenger while he tosses the duffel bag into the trunk and I sigh heavily. A part of me is furious that my brothers are forcing me to go hide in Sicily with my parents, a bigger part is grateful because I know they mean well, and an even bigger part of me is angry at Damon for following their demands and ignoring what I want and need.

Maybe I’m being a brat or maybe I’m being a woman trying to assert her independence. Whatever the case, I feel like arguing and letting my frustrations out, and the only person I can fight with is Damon.

As soon as he settles into the driver’s seat and starts the car, I turn to face him. I hope he’s ready because I have a lot to say. And he’s probably not going to like any of it.

“You do realize you’re acting like Miceli’s lapdog,” I tell him.

A muscle flexes in his jaw, but he refrains from commenting.

“Even though they like to think they know everything, my brothers aren’t the boss of me.”

“You’re going to Sicily,” he states in a firm voice. “Nothing you can say is going to change that.”

“What if I refuse?”

“Carlotta, Gallo’s thugs already got you once. Your family doesn’t want that to happen again which means it’s my job to get that ass of yours on the jet waiting to take you to a safe place. Now stop being a brat or so help me…”

His voice trails off on that threat and I sit up straighter. “Or what? What do you think you’d do?”

“I don’t think anything,” he says darkly, turning to glance over at me. “I’m saying that if you continue to act like a brat then I’m going to treat you like one.”

“And what exactly does that mean?” I press. I’m striving for whiny, but my voice starts sounding husky.

“It means I’m going to spank your ass and drag you onto that plane.”

I suck in a breath and I know his words aren’t supposed to turn me on, but they do. His palm on my rear end is hardly a threat. I’d like it there.

“I’m not scared of you, Damon. And your threat…well, I think it’s having the opposite effect that you intend.”

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