way I’d deny him. I knew it and, more importantly, he knew it.
He kissed the top of my head. “Go into the kitchen while I clean up,” he said, taking mercy on me. “I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Where’s the kitchen?” I mumbled, embarrassed. He chuckled and escorted me to the kitchen before returning to the gym. I sat at the island feeling stupid and way out of my league. And looking around the state-of-the-art kitchen, I also thought people shouldn’t have this kind of wealth. It was obscene.
A few minutes later, Luca walked into the kitchen, dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants, and it was surreal to see him dressed so casually. All I’d ever seen him in were expensive suits. In this getup his muscles and tattoos were visible, and he looked fucking delicious.
He placed my phone next to me before starting to open cupboards and drawers to cook. “It was ringing when I went to the bedroom to change. It’s your Mother.”
“You looked at my phone?”
Luca didn’t bother turning around as he laughed. “Baby, by the time it’s all said and done, you’ll be lucky if you get to take a piss without me knowing about it.” He placed a pan on a burner. “Get used to it.”
I wanted to argue, but Frankie and Robbie had warned me about this. They said my freedom would be both limitless and constricted. It was delicate balance, and I was going to have to live and breathe the word ‘compromise’. Robbie told me Ciro still refused to let her work and that was something she was battling against. She understood his concerns, but she wasn’t made to be a trophy wife. She needed to work.
Before calling my mother back, I asked, “What about my job?” Luca’s entire body stilled, and I wanted to pull the question back. I wasn’t ready for him to tell me I couldn’t work. He turned to face me and the look in his eyes said it all.
He was going to forbid me to work.
I shook my head. “No,” I blurted out. “No, Luca.” He didn’t say anything, further sending me into a confused mess. “I’m not quitting my job. I’m not.”
“Remy-”
I jumped off the stool. “No, Luca,” I snapped. “Those kids are my life. I am not…abandoning them because you decided you wanted to fuck me.”
His lip curled, and he snarled, “I am not fucking you. You are going to be my wife.”
“Not if you’re going to make me quit my job,” I replied, throwing out my ultimatum.
Breakfast forgotten, Luca was around the island, his fist in the mussed hair I hadn’t bother to brush, his face looming over mine. His teeth were clenched, but his voice was clear as day. “I need you to take a moment to remember who the fuck you’re talking to, Remy,” he said. “You don’t get to threaten me or give me ultimatums. You’re going to marry me even if I have to drag you in front of the priest by your motherfucking hair.” He shook the fist in my hair for emphasis. “I will give you the world if you ask for it. But you will never, ever fucking deny me or threaten me with desertion.” His other hand came up to wrap around my throat. “You are mine, Remy. You became mine the second I spared your life that night.” God, that night. It hasn’t even been a week, but it felt like forever. “Don’t ever mention not marrying me again. And you sure as fuck better not ever mention the word ‘divorce’ to me once you do. I will never let you go, Remy. You hear me? Never.”
Tears course down my face. I was halfway in love with this psychopath and trapped by his command of my body, but to quit my job?
My hands came up and wrapped around his wrist in hope of loosening his hold on my throat, but he just squeezed tighter. I searched his eyes for some mercy, but there was none. The Father has spoken, and he was daring me to defy him.
“I’ll hate you,” I told him truthfully.
His chin lifted in power and arrogance. “No, you won’t,” he challenged. “If I have to keep you sitting on my cock all day, every day, to keep that from happening, I will.”
“Don’t do this to me,” I begged, knowing defiance wouldn’t win this battle. “I can’t be happy if I’m not helping those kids.”