Page 73 of Shadows of Steel
I cast a look at the truck once more. “And this?”
She lifts a shoulder in an elegant shrug, the picture of nonchalance. “A few additions to my wardrobe.” She says lightly. “Though, if you must know, they aren’t all for me. I selected a few pieces for Mattia, even something for you. Oh, and for Leo.”
My jaw tightens.
“He can procure his own damn clothes.” I say, my voice dropping into something sharp, possessive. I fight it with every instinct, but I fail. “You don’t purchase clothing for another man that isn’t me.”
Harlow exhales, already rolling her eyes. “For God’s sake, Dante, he’s yournephew. Or is this about the fact that we wereoncebetrothed?” She smirks, pushing me, testing me, waiting for a reaction.
I step in closer, my gaze locked on hers.
“You’re treading dangerous ground.” I murmur, my voice a lethal whisper. “Keep testing me, and I promise you, this game of yours will only end with you bound to my bed, legs spread, and begging for mercy you won’t receive.”
I see the flicker of heat in her gaze the moment the words leave my mouth. Yes, my Leonessa very much likes the idea. She tilts her head, lips curving with satisfaction. “Jealous, amore mio?”
The nickname, mocking as it is, does something to me, and I grit my teeth in frustration. I lean in, my voice low, about to say something, when Leonardo steps toward us, shattering the moment like a goddamn hammer to glass.
Of course he fucking does.
My jaw clenches, irritation simmering beneath the surface. I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s smirking, thoroughly amused at his own perfectly timed intrusion.
“Peperina, I’m honored,” he smirks. “I just arrived, and I’m already entertained.”
Harlow rolls her eyes before shifting her attention to me, taking a step back to create distance between us.
“As I said,” she muses, tilting her head ever so slightly, “you were in dire need of refinement, someone with taste to curate your wardrobe.”Her gaze drifts over me slowly. “Your assistant, however, seems entirely unqualified for such a task. And, by the way, the clothes she keeps sending for your son? Either two sizes too big or far too small, almost as if she hasn’t the slightest clue how old he is. But I suppose that hardly matters, does it? She seems to have other talents… like shamelessly vying for your attention. I imagine that’s what truly kept her around.”
My brow lifts. “Is that so?”
The words are deceptively calm, but beneath them, anger surges, at Marta for her audacity and at myself for not seeing it sooner, for not firing her the moment she became a problem.
As for Harlow’s jealousy? Unnecessary. Because I never fucked Marta, never wanted to. No one compares to my wife. She is all I see, all I feel, and nothing, no one, has ever come close to breaking that hold.
I don’t rise to the bait. Instead, I close the distance between us, my voice dropping as I lean in, lips near her ear.
“You think you’re being clever, leonessa,” I murmur, my breath grazing her skin, “but I see through you.” I pause. “This little act? It’s futile. Because I recognize exactly who you are.”
She stills at my words.
“This tantrum you’re throwing? It’s not fucking working.”
She blinks. “You—”
I pull back slightly, meeting her gaze. “Oh, and Marta? She’s fired. So you don’t need to worry about her anymore.”
Harlow lifts her chin, feigning indifference. “I never did.”
But I catch the flicker of satisfaction she tries to suppress, the smirk she hides.
And I fucking love it.
I shouldn’t. I tell myself this like a mantra, like a warning, but it’s a battle I’m already losing.
I might be falling for my wife. And that is dangerous territory. She drives me insane without even trying, without a single effort, just by existing. And no matter how much I fight it, I can feel the ground shifting beneath me.
Chapter 23
Harlow
