Page 30 of Savage Union
"Life is full of difficult choices." I stand, gesturing to the bathroom door. "You'll shower before bed."
Her eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"
"You've been in those clothes for over twenty-four hours." I keep my tone matter-of-fact. "Shower, then bed."
"I'm not your child. Don't tell me when to bathe."
I meet her gaze steadily, saying nothing. Silence is often more effective than words. The minutes stretch between us, a battle of wills.
Finally, she throws up her hands. "Fine. Whatever. Where are my things?"
"You'll find everything you need in the bathroom."
"I want my own clothes."
"What you want is irrelevant." I move toward my closet, deliberately turning my back on her. "What you need is provided."
I hear her sharp intake of breath, the muttered curse that follows. Then footsteps crossing the room, the bathroom door opening and closing with unnecessary force. Small victories. Let her slam doors if it makes her feel better. The outcome remains the same.
Water runs. More curses, muffled by the door and the sound of the shower. I smile slightly, imagining her frustration at finding the bathroom stocked with my preferred products rather than her own. Another reminder that she's in my world now, playing by my rules.
I finish reviewing security reports on my tablet while I wait, keeping one ear attuned to the sounds from the bathroom. The water stops. Drawers open and close. More muttered profanity. Then silence that stretches long enough to pique my interest.
When the door finally opens, I look up to find Caterina wrapped in a towel, her hair piled atop her head in another towel. Water droplets cling to her bare shoulders, tracing paths down to disappear beneath the white terry cloth. Her skin is flushed from the hot water, giving her a glow that makes my mouth go dry.
"There's no nightgown," she announces, clearly expecting me to fix this oversight.
I set my tablet aside. "On the bed."
Her eyes follow my gesture to where a silk nightgown lies spread across the covers—black, elegant, expensive. I had Antonia purchase it after texting Dante about the new arrangements.
"I'm not wearing that."
"Then you'll sleep naked." I keep my expression neutral. "Your choice."
She stares at me, incredulous. "Do you get off on forcing people into impossible situations?"
"There's nothing impossible about putting on sleepwear and you'll find out soon enough what gets me off."
Her eyes go wide. "That's not sleepwear. That's lingerie."
I stand, approaching her with measured steps. "That distinction matters to you because...?"
"Because I know what you're doing." She clutches the towel tighter. "This is about humiliation. Control."
"This is about establishing our new reality." I stop within arm's reach, close enough to smell the scent of my soap on her skin. "You are to be my wife. The Donna to my Don. There are expectations that come with the role."
"Like being your personal dress-up doll?"
"Like recognizing where the boundaries of your rebellion lie." I reach past her, my arm brushing hers as I take the nightgown from the bed. The contact makes her stiffen, but she doesn't stepaway. "This can be easy or difficult,bambola. That's entirely up to you."
I hold the nightgown out to her, the silk shimmering in the low light. Her eyes flick from the garment to my face and back again. Calculation, defiance, resignation—emotions cross her features in rapid succession.
"Turn around," she finally says.
"No."
The single word hangs between us like a gauntlet thrown. Her eyes widen slightly, then narrow.
