Page 93 of Legacy
She opens the bottle. Drinks. Doesn’t look at me.
“Where were you?” I press.
“Out.”
She finally meets my eyes, lips parted, the water bottle dangling from her fingers like she might throw it at me.
“Doing what?”
Her smile is razor sharp.
“Handling my affairs. Saw my lawyer. Since clearly I have to prepare for legal battleinside my own marriage.”
Fuck.
She steps past me, deliberately slow, and I watch her walk toward the living room like she owns the place. Maybe she does.
“You left without a guard,” I say, following her. “You left unprotected.”
She stops. Turns. Her eyes burn into mine.
“I left because I needed to breathe, Angelo. And Gio let me, becauseunlike you, he didn’t try to pin me down like I’m some fucking possession.”
“Youaremine.” The words tear from me, low and raw. The truth.
Her jaw tightens.
“Read the room. I’d rather benobody’sthan be yours like this.”
Molten heat coils between us. Each word strikes like a match.
“So what’s the move? You lawyering up? Gonna take me on?”
She tilts her head, eyes glittering. Smile soft as a blade sliding between ribs.
“Page sixteen. Section four. Paragraph two. I know it now. And I know what youdidn’tdo. You breached first. You think you had me?”
Goddamn it.
“You’ve got claws,” I mutter, can’t help it—almost admiring.
She shrugs, effortless. Deadly.
“You wanted a storm. You married one.”
I stare. I want to fight. No.
I want totasteher.
Feel her back against the wall, her breath against my mouth as I remind her who the fuck I am.
But this version? This steel-spine, courtroom-cold queen?
She’s not mine.
Not yet.
“So what now,wife?” My voice drops, cool as ice, hands buried in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “You want me to beg?”
