Page 46 of Immoral

I tear my eyes off the water dripping over his hard body, find the clothes, and get dressed. Within a few minutes, Gianni steps out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist.

I fold my arms and lean against the back of the chair. "What are you wearing?"

"Joggers."

"Of course you are! Let me guess. They're gray?" I tease, but I've always loved him in them, and he knows it. When the trend for gray sweatpants started, I bought him several pairs.

He chuckles. "Did you ever state your adoration for me in anything but gray?"

"Gray was a fashion statement, that's all."

"Sure." He opens another drawer and pulls out the joggers and a form-fitting white T-shirt. He puts them on and slides his feet into his shoes, asking, "Are you hungry? I'm starving."

Hunger gnaws at my gut. "Yeah."

He slings his arm around my waist and guides me out the door and down the hallway. His phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. "I have to take this, tesoro."

"Okay."

He answers in Italian and starts speaking quickly. We step in front of the elevator, and he barks out a phrase I don't understand. The doors open, and we enter the car. His voice becomes more aggressive. He barks out more orders then hangs up. His face turns red with anger. He pounds the button then focuses on the ceiling.

I count in my head, waiting for him to speak. The elevator stops, and the doors open.

He whisks me out and toward the restaurant.

"Everything okay?" I cautiously ask.

He sniffs hard, avoiding me. His voice turns so cold I get chills. "Will be."

I stop, forcing him to look at me.

He meets my gaze, questioning, "What's wrong?"

"Is this about Uberto?"

His face hardens. Twenty seconds pass before he orders, "Don't ever mention him again."

I tilt my head. "What do you want me to call him?"

Fire blazes in Gianni's eyes. "Nothing. Don't even think about him again."

My chest tightens. "After what he did to me, don't you think I deserve to know what you're going to do to him?"

Gianni shakes his head. "No. His fate is in my hands, and that's all you need to know."

Everything about his statement angers me. It feels like the precursor to our future life and what I know will eventually happen. "So I just get to be ignorant and stay in the dark?"

"You aren't in the dark."

"What would you call it?" I hurl back at him.

"Trusting that your husband isn't going to let anyone who hurts you—scratch that. I won't let anyone who even attempts to think about harming you continue to breathe on this Earth," he replies.

I should drop this, but it's not about Gianni taking care of Uberto. I know he'll take care of him. I'm fighting him about not being a naive wife who lets her husband get away with infidelity, and I'm using this to hide behind. And I hate how insecure he's made me when I'm usually nothing but confident. "So I'm supposed to blindly trust you?"

Gianni's eyes turn to slits. He firmly states, "Don't you dare compare our other issues to me taking care of someone who's harmed you."

My face heats with embarrassment that he knows what the underlying issue is. I sarcastically laugh.

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