Page 28 of Queen
No explanation. No please. Just the order.
Minutes later, she appears in my doorway. She doesn’t sit until I gesture. Regal in her disdain, she folds herself into the chair opposite me, crossing her legs with slow precision.
“You’ve had a night to think,” I say.
Her mouth curves, but it’s not a smile. “About what? Which of your games you’ll play next?”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the desk. “This isn’t a game,cara.You have two paths. Stay here as my wife—and obey me in all things. Or pack your things, take your son, and go back to the streets.”
Her eyes flare, but she holds her ground. “That’s not a choice.”
“It’s the only one you get.”
Silence stretches between us, sharp as a drawn blade. I can see the refusal rising in her, taste it like smoke in the air. It makes my pulse steady, my patience thin.
We’re just getting started.
Loyalty Questioned, Line Drawn
She doesn’t flinch under my stare. Not once. Not even when I let the silence drag until the air between us feels like a vise.
“Tell me something, Zina,” I say, keeping my voice even. “When it comes down to it—when there’s blood on the floor—who do you serve? Giovanni’s sons… or your husband?”
Her eyes sharpen, the faintest twitch in her jaw giving her away. “Giovanni’s sons?” she repeats, like the words taste rotten. “They’d slit my throat without blinking.”
“Then it should be an easy answer.”
But she doesn’t give it. She leans back in the chair like she’s settling in for a duel, crossing one leg over the other so slow it’s obscene. “And what would you do, Emiliano?”
That’s all it takes. The tight leash I keep on myself snaps.
I’m up from my desk in three strides, closing the space between us. Her chair tips slightly as I grab her by the wrist and haul her to her feet. She doesn’t stumble—of course she doesn’t. She’s too proud for that. But her breath catches, quick and sharp, and I feel it all the way through me.
I walk her backward until her spine meets the bookshelves with a soft thud. The smell of her—rose and smoke—hits me like a punch. My hands plant on either side of her head, caging her in.
“I’d keep you alive,” I tell her, low and deliberate. “I’d protect you from every enemy outside these walls.”
“And inside?” she throws back, her chin lifting.
“That depends on whether you remember who you belong to.”
Her mouth curves—mocking, taunting. “Never.”
The word slides between us like a blade.
I lean in until my breath brushes her cheek, my voice a dark promise. “Say it again.”
She doesn’t. And that defiance—the way she holds my gaze without blinking—makes my blood run hotter than any kiss could.
My hand finds her jaw, tilting her head up just enough so she has to look at me. I’m close enough to feel the heat rolling off her, to hear the subtle hitch in her breathing that tells me she’s not as untouched by this as she wants me to believe.
“You think I won’t break you,” I murmur. “You’re wrong.”
Her lips part, but the words that come out aren’t surrender. “Try.”
Molten. That’s what it feels like between us—heat and danger, threatening to spill over. I could take her mouth right now, crush her against the shelves until she forgets every name but mine. But that would be too easy. And I never take the easy way.
I step back instead, slow, deliberate, letting the loss of my body heat be its own punishment.
