Gianna
Dominic didn't just grab me.
He seized.
One second Ortega's breath was brushing my cheek, his hand steady on my waist, and the next – air. Cold, rushing air as I was yanked back, spine hitting a chest that radiated heat like rage had a temperature. Dominic's arm coiled around my waist like a vise, his grip absolute.
"If it isn't my wife," he said, low and lethal. "Sneaking around behind my back in broad daylight."
My throat closed.
Sara moved first. Her sunglasses came off like knives drawn, eyes narrowed, shoulders squared. Lena wasn't far behind, stepping up like she planned to pull his heart out with her bare hands.
But I caught their eyes – just for a second. Just long enough.
Don't.
I didn't speak, but my face must have begged. Lena's jaw twitched. Sara's fingers curled, knuckles going white – but they stepped back.
Dominic didn't even glance at them. His eyes were locked on me, and whatever softness I'd once imagined in his gaze was gone.
"Let's go."
I didn't have a choice.
He all but dragged me to his car. Vincent Ortega was forgotten like edges on a pizza.
The drive back to the Moretti Manor was silent, sharp with tension. His hand gripped the wheel like it was someone's throat. I didn't dare speak. I couldn't. My heart was a stone rattling in my chest, heavy with panic, hot with embarrassment. And under it all, something else simmered – something harder, angrier.
By the time we pulled through the gates, it was ready to boil over.
He didn't say a word until we were inside.
Not a word as he slammed the front door behind us, not a word as he stalked through the foyer like the walls owed him answers. The silence between us was too full.
I stood by the window of the sitting room in the east wing, refusing to sit. A few days ago, I had dressed this man's wounds in this very room. I wrapped my arms around myself like a shield.
Then he turned.
"Start talking."
His voice dropped like a hammer.
I turned to face him, chin high even though my stomach churned. "About what?"
"Don't play stupid with me." His jacket came off in one sharp motion, tossed carelessly onto a nearby chair. "What the hell were you doing with him?"
"I wasn't with him."
"Then explain why I found his hand around your waist and his mouth next to your goddamn ear."
I flinched. Just slightly. But enough for him to catch it.
"I don't owe you an explanation for every stranger I speak to in public."
"You do when that stranger is Vincent Ortega."
My blood iced.
I blinked. "What?"
His eyes burned into mine. "You heard me. Vincent Ortega. The new DA. He's been sniffing around the arson site, asking the wrong questions about the right people. My people."
I couldn't breathe.
His voice dropped, low and lethal. "Don't make me repeat myself."
"I didn't know who he was," I said quickly. "He just started talking to me. I didn't know – "
Dominic's expression snapped, something raw and dark flooding his face. "Then tell me why the fuck his hand was on your waist."
I swallowed.
"He caught me. I tripped. It wasn't – "
"You tripped?" His voice was poison now, "That's what we're calling it now? Your hands were on him. I saw it."
"I was pushing him away!"
"You were holding on," he bit out, stepping into my space like he meant to consume it. "Don't insult both of us by pretending otherwise. He touched you like he knew you."
"He didn't!"
"But he wanted to. And you stood there and let him."
I flared. "I didn't let anything. He caught me off guard – "
"That's not what it looked like. It looked like my wife was melting into the arms of a man whose entire job is to tear my world apart."
My throat tightened. "I'm not your wife! And I'll never be if you're just going to see what you want to see."
"You are mine," he growled, voice scraping the walls, "And I never imagine things. Not when it comes to men looking at my woman like they want to find out what she tastes like."
My chest heaved, fury curling in the pit of my stomach like smoke.
"I am not – "
"Lie better, Gianna. My patience is running out."
"I didn't know who he was," I tried again, desperate, "I swear. He – he just approached me. I was waiting for Lena and Sara, and – "
"Why were you even there?"
"Flowers," I lied, too quickly.
He stepped closer.
"You expect me to believe you just wandered into a surveillance zone to buy flowers?"
"Yes," I snapped this time, my voice rising before I could stop it. "I like flowers. I was having a bad day. I wanted daisies. Sue me."
His jaw flexed. "Don't make me the fool here, Gianna."
"I'm not! I didn't plan to talk to him. I didn't even know who he was. I didn't – he was just – " I swallowed. "He said he liked pastries."
Dominic's head snapped back like I'd slapped him.
"He what?"
I fumbled. "He was talking about food. That's it."
"You don't see how that's strange? A federal prosecutor with eyes on the Moretti family just happens to stumble into you in a flower market, flirts about croissants, and walks away?"
I stayed silent. My nails dug into the side of my palm.
"He's not some random idiot," Dominic said, voice suddenly low and dangerous. "He's careful. Clean. Quiet. My men have been tailing him for two weeks – he's not careless. So when they saw you in his path today, they called me. Because they knew."
My stomach twisted.
"They knew what?"
"That you were a goddamn gift to him."
I took a step back.
"You're overreacting."
"I'm underreacting," he hissed. "I should've put security on you the second this marriage was announced. You're a target now."
"I didn't ask for any of that," I shot back.
"No," he said coldly. "But you're still mine to protect."
That word again.
Mine.
I squared my shoulders, heat flooding my chest.
"You don't get to drag me across a market like a piece of luggage and then talk about protection like it's affection."
His eyes flared. "Don't twist this."
"I'm not twisting anything. I didn't do anything wrong, Dominic."
"You're unpredictable. And right now, that's wrong."
"You think I'm wrong because I got approached by a man I didn't recognize? You think I'm sneaking behind your back because I was getting ready to kick said man?"
"I think," he said through clenched teeth, "that you don't understand the game you're playing in."
"I'm not playing anything."
"That's exactly the problem."
We were chest to chest now. I could feel the heat of him, the press of his anger pulsing like a second heartbeat. I hated him in that moment – how he towered over me, how he made me feel like I had something to answer for when I'd done nothing but breathe in the wrong place.
He reached for my arm. I pulled back.
I stood, spine straight but shaking, arms wrapped tight around myself like they could keep the fury in.
Dominic turned his back to me, walking to the fireplace but never lighting it. Just standing there, hands braced on the mantel like he might crack it in half.
The silence between us buzzed like something feral.
Then he spoke.
"From now on, you don't go anywhere without my say-so."
My mouth opened. "Dominic – "
"I mean it."
The words were calm. Too calm. Like the stillness of a lake before a body sinks.
And then he turned his head just enough to catch me in his periphery.
His eyes weren't warm. Not wounded. Not even angry.
They were something else.
Possessive. Calculating. Barely chained.
"You want freedom?" he said softly. "Then earn my trust first."
And just like that, he walked out – leaving the room colder than when he entered, with the taste of war still thick on my tongue.