Page 12 of Sinful Hearts
I count to five before spitting the water in my glass again, not caring if anyone is watching.
His jaw tightens as he scoots his chair closer to mine. “Don’t fucking test me.”
“I’ll drink more water …” I pause for dramatic effect and tap my French-manicured nails against the glass. “IfI can sleep at my own home tonight.”
“You will sleep in your own home. Yournewhome.” Without breaking eye contact, he snatches the wineglass he confiscated from me earlier, raises it in a mock toast, and knocks it back. He smirks before licking his lower lip, slow and teasing.
Tingles shoot between my legs, and I press my thighs together.
“The homeI grew up in,” I say tightly.
“Oh, that home?” he says with a cruel laugh. “No.”
“You had that arrangement with Dasha.”
“Are you Dasha?” He raises a thick brow as his gaze mockingly trails down my face to my cleavage.
“Obviously not.” I cross my arms and lean back, scowling. “She was smart and ran. Unfortunately, I didn’t.”
“Exactly.” He flashes a cold smile. “You’re still here, and my arrangement with her is irrelevant now.”
Stretching his arm along the back of my chair, he snaps my dress strap. I flinch at the sting and shove my shoulder forward to put distance between us.
He cups my shoulder to stop me, pressing me into the chair, and digs his fingers into my bare skin. “While some grooms teach their brides to fuck on their wedding day, here’s my first lesson for you.”
I attempt to pull away again, but he tightens his hold on me.
“I make the rules here, Liliya.” He lowers his head so that his lips are at my ear. “Every single thing you do from now on will be controlled by me.”
As he rears back, another grin tugs at his mouth. It’s one I imagine he gives his victims before he snaps their necks.
“It’s unfortunate I must inform you that I’m not a dog and I don’t follow commands,” I fire back.
“I’ll break that out of you. Trust me.” He snaps my strap again. Standing, he motions toward the server who’s kept my glass full all night.
The server scrambles toward us. “Do you need a refill, sir?”
Looking at him, Emilio juts a finger toward me. “If you serve her another drop of alcohol, I’ll break this glass and slit your fucking throat with it.”
Oh great.
Another trait of my husband: threatens innocent waitstaff.
“Uh … yes, sir,” the server murmurs, his tray now shaking above his trembling hand.
Emilio’s gaze hardens. “Good.”
He doesn’t pay me another glance as he walks away and heads straight to a round table draped in white linen. Antonio and his wife, Gigi, greet him, pretending they weren’t watching our exchange.
I offer the server an apologetic smile.
He nods stiffly, turns on his heel, and flees.
Shutting my eyes, I run Emilio’s words through my mind.“I’ll break that out of you.”
There was a reason Aleksy chose Dasha to marry Emilio at the beginning. Prior to her running off, she was the obedient sister. Even when Aleksy told her about the engagement, she cried, but didn’t argue.
But me?
