Page 121 of Claimed
“It will—”
“You cannot keep me locked away in this castle—”
“You will have a key.”
I took another step back. “I will be dancing inthatballet and other ones.”
He closed the distance between us and leaned forward. “You will not.”
His tone was final, leaving no room for argument, but the rebellion in me refused to back down.
“I will.”
Our gazes locked.
He glared. “I’ve seen pictures of you with the director. I believe her name is Melanique Sanchez?”
“Yes.”
“I will never hurt you. Never put my hand on your body in a way that means anger or violence, but others. . .well. . .they will not be safe.”
I trembled. “What the fuck are you saying?”
He leaned in closer until our noses almost touched. “You fucking leave this castle to dance for this Melanique, and I will slice her flesh into strips and hang her in front of the entrance of that theater.”
I slapped him.
Hard.
I didn’t even know what had made me react that way.
Was it because he was so close to me?
Perhaps, it was because I was so mad that he would threaten Melanique, someone I cherished and needed to protect.
Someone who was absolutely kind and innocent.
But I slapped him.
Very fucking hard.
Dear God!
My hand connected with the side of his face, leaving a bright red imprint on his skin.
Gianni's head had turned with the force of my slap, but he did not stagger or step back. Instead, he slowly lifted his hand to his cheek and turned his gaze back on me.
Oh. . .shit.
For a moment, there was silence between us.
The only sounds were the occasional hammering from the stage being built and the distant trilling of birds hidden in the garden.
And for a brief second, I saw a hint of surprise flash across his face. But it was quickly replaced with that icy resolve I had seen moments earlier.
My heart pounded in my chest.
Well. . .he’s going to either kill me or cut my hand off.
