Page 53 of Unholy Union
But even now as he glares down at me, his anger pulsing off him in waves, I’m left staring up at his broad, classic Italian features.
I’m left distinctly aware how things ended the last time we stood this close in our bedroom.
He seems to be too, a flicker of lust passing in his dark gaze.
“In case it wasn’t already clear the first fifty times I’ve told you, principessa,” he says after a beat of tense silence. “You are my wife and that means you belong to me. And that means what I do—and who I do it with—is none of your fucking concern.”
“If you think you’re going to have a mistress and I’m going to allow it?—”
“You’ll allow what I tell you to allow,” he cuts in over me. “You don’t get a say in the matter. You don’t get a say in anything, Sabrina. You’re to be seen,notheard.”
Heat rushes my cheeks, flooding my face with color like I’ve been burning in the hot sun. But, really, it’s the humiliation of once again being knocked down a few pegs.
Being put in my place.
Satisfied by the results, the corner of Cato’s mouth quirks. He releases his hold on me, pocketing his hands in his suit pants.
“I’m glad we’re on the same page, principessa. I’ll be in my office getting some work done. Don’t wait up.”
And with that, he turns and walks out of the room, the door snapping shut behind him.
My hands ball into fists at my sides. I stomp my foot, frustration quickly bubbling to the surface, a scream rising up my throat. I’d let it out if the rest of the house weren’t full of Valentes and their undyingly loyal employees.
Instead, I rush to the closet, wrenching the doors open and disappearing inside. My hands snatch the first items I can find hanging on the racks—expensive, designer dresses Cato must’ve had his staff select specially for me but I’ve refused to wear—and I drop to my knees, burying my face in them.
The screams begging for release tear out of me one by one, muffled by the delicate fabrics. Silk and cashmere. Chiffon and satin. I scream into them until my throat goes hoarse and I’m sputtering for air, wet tears glossing my eyes.
The same deep misery I’d felt at the start of the night returns.
It’s the same misery I’d felt losing Mami and Leo. But now it’s so much worse. It’s the realization that not only have I lost two of the people I loved most, I’m trapped living a daily hell I never asked for.
I’m Cato Valente’s wife. The only way out of this is death.
I curl up under the racks of clothes, knees drawn to my chest and hands over my face.
Though I’ve grown up in this lifestyle, I’ve never been treated badly. Papi’s always treated me well. Leo was always a good older brother, and I was lucky enough to witness a loving marriage between my parents, even if only for a few years due to Mami’s passing.
I’ve heard of bad arrangements. Bad marriages like this. Ones where the women are screwed over and treated like trophies to be won or put on display.
But I’d never imagined it for myself…
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” I sigh through my fingers.
Dropping my hands from my face, I sit up on my knees and notice my suitcase tucked far behind some of the racks of clothes. I’d forgotten I’d pushed it behind here the first morning I moved into the Valente home.
What are the chances I could pack up and sneak out in the middle of the night?
A small, cynical laugh slips out of me.
I reach for the suitcase anyway, undoing the zipper and flipping the top part open. A few of my belongings I’d forgotten to unpack come tumbling out. Mostly trivial things like some rolled up socks and underwear.
But what does catch my attention is one of my wedding gifts I’d forgotten all about—my “something blue” from Nella.
The antique silver and blue rosary flies out of the suitcase and breaks apart on the carpet. I gasp, eyes widening at how the top portion of the cross has broken off.
Crap!
This was clearly an important heirloom of Nella’s! How could I be so careless?
