Page 41 of The Enforcer's Possession
My husband who’d proven today that running was pointless because he’d always find me.
But knowing he’d find me didn’t mean I wouldn’t try again.
Maybe that was the point.Maybe he knew I’d run, and perhaps he wanted me to, wanted the excuse to catch me and remind me exactly who I belonged to.
The thought should have terrified me.
Instead, I felt heat pool low in my belly, my body already anticipating the next confrontation.
I’d made a deal with the devil.Now I was discovering that part of me enjoyed hell.
Tomorrow I’d plot.Tomorrow I’d plan my next move, figure out how to regain some control over this situation.
Tonight, I just lay in the dark and tried not to think about how much I wanted Dante to come back.To push open my door and prove his ownership all over again.
The marks on my body throbbed with every breath.
A reminder.
A warning.
A promise.
I was playing a dangerous game with a man who’d already proven he played to win.
But I’d never been good at accepting defeat.
Even when defeat felt like this.
Chapter Ten
Caterina
The Lombardi estate looked exactly as I’d left it two weeks ago -- imposing stone facade, perfectly manicured gardens.I’d grown up here.Learned to navigate Papa’s moods in these hallways.Thrown tantrums and wine glasses in the dining room we were about to enter.Now I was returning as someone else’s property, and the marble steps leading to the front door felt like walking back into a cage I’d barely escaped.
Dante’s hand rested at the small of my back as we entered -- proprietary, warm through the silk of my dress.He’d chosen the dress this morning.Emerald green, high neckline that covered everything, hem that hit just below the knee.Conservative enough to satisfy Papa.Expensive enough to show the De Luca wealth.Nothing like what I would have chosen, but I’d learned that lesson already.The bruises on my thighs were still fading, hidden beneath the fabric but present enough that I felt them with every step.
“Breathe,” Dante murmured near my ear as we followed the butler toward the dining room.“It’s just dinner.”
Just dinner.With both families present to witness the alliance I’d orchestrated.To see how the Lombardi daughter had fared in her marriage to the De Luca enforcer.To judge whether I’d made the right choice or a catastrophic mistake.
No pressure at all.
I might have changed, but this room hadn’t.A mahogany table that could seat twenty, crystal chandelier that probably cost more than a car, oil paintings of dead Lombardi ancestors watching from the walls with disapproving eyes.Papa sat at the head of the table in his usual position of power, dressed in an expensive suit despite this being a family dinner.Mama occupied the opposite end, elegant in cream Chanel, her expression perfectly composed in a way that meant she was deeply uncomfortable.
Luca sat beside Mama, and the relief on his face when he saw me was almost comical.He’d texted me seventeen times since the wedding.I’d answered three.Not because I didn’t want to talk to him, but because I didn’t know how to explain what my life had become.
“Caterina.”He stood, moving around the table to pull me into a hug that was just a bit too tight.“You look good.”
“Liar.”But I hugged him back, grateful for something real in all this performance.
“You do,” he insisted quietly.“Different, but good.”
Different.That was one word for it.
Francesca De Luca sat across from where Dante was leading me, and I’d met her exactly twice before -- once at the wedding, once when she’d come to the penthouse to discuss business with her brother.She was beautiful in a sharp, calculated way.Dark hair pinned in a perfect chignon.Burgundy dress that probably cost a fortune.Her gaze assessed me with the kind of intelligence that missed nothing.
“Caterina.”She lifted her wine glass in greeting.“Marriage suits you.”
